> Seeking Power
>  by Forthwith
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prelude - Creativity
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A brilliant multichromatic streak filled the sky, and something somewhere stirred.





Today was the summer solstice and thus the final day of the Summer Sun Celebration. Canterlot was, as it frequently was, the host for the festival this year.

The usual attractions had invaded the city for the last few days, hosting a wide variety of treats for the young at heart and stomach-turning rides upon which to lose that food. The entire center of the city had been closed off for dancing and music, and if a pony listened carefully, every song would melt together into one fast-paced, tone-deaf extravaganza.

For many, the festival was a time to relax and unwind with something different from the daily grind. For a four-year-old Twilight Sparkle, it was an opportunity.

Only a few weeks ago, Twilight had made her first clumsy attempts at telekinesis and had found herself enthralled immediately. She had, of course, seen her parents and brother casting spells before, but the surge of power exiting her own horn for the first time had exhilarated her in ways mere observation could never compare.

She wanted more.

Twilight hadn’t bothered her preschool teacher with her burning desire to learn; the poor mare already had enough trouble controlling the foals under her care. Twilight’s own parents were often just as busy, as was her brother, who would graduate from school this year. Her foalsitter, Cadance, while very nice, couldn’t teach unicorn magic at a respectable level as a pegasus.

Thus Twilight had turned to books. And then she’d quickly found that her reading skills wanting, not yet up to par to parse the dense texts she’d stolen from her brother’s room. Frustrated and embarrassed, she’d eventually asked her parents for simpler tomes. They had, fortunately, enthusiastically obliged.

Despite this, problems remained. Twilight had eagerly opened the first of many books with which she would begin her journey only for her age and inexperience to thwart her once more. This time her magic had proven the primary source of her frustrations. Even the simplest of spells, when cast, had exhausted her still developing magic.

And yet Twilight had read and learned what she could, eagerly awaiting the moment when her daily training would make her strong enough to cast a real spell rather than dawdle with telekinesis. Of the dozens of books that Twilight had read, one in particular, simply entitled The Alicorn, had drawn her attention. It’d clearly been a foals’ book, containing more illustrations than words. Still, if it were to be believed, there existed a princess like Cadance who could move the sun and moon and had both wings and a horn.

Twilight had known she knew little about the world, but that had still stretched her willing suspension of disbelief. When asked, her brother, Shining Armor, had laughed and said that not only was it true, he attended that very princess’s school. Her brother had then gone on to clarify that she could watch the princess, Princess Celestia, raise the sun at the festival in a few days’ time.

So Twilight had waited. Perhaps not patiently, but she had waited nonetheless. When her family had finally gone to the festival, she’d tried to enjoy it. She really had. But her uncompromising curiosity had gotten the better of her. When it was announced that Princess Celestia would raise the sun in ten minutes, Twilight had bolted off unthinkingly into the crowd. It’d not been long before she realized that she was, assuredly, lost.

And alone.

Twilight had never been more than a room away from somepony she knew before. Even with hundreds upon hundreds of other ponies around her, they were no replacement for her family.

Calm down. Mom told me to find help if I get lost.

“Excuse me,” Twilight began, only to have the mare ignore her or perhaps simply not hear her.

“Um,” Twilight said, trying to get a stallion’s attention, but he was otherwise occupied in conversation and moving faster than Twilight could keep up with.

Okay, Twilight. Don’t cry. So what if nopony cares? Mom told me to find somepony to help me if I-I get lost. I… I can…

Twilight cried as the crowd continued to shuffle around her. Not with the intense, attention drawing bawling of a lost foal but the softer tears and sobs of somepony desperately trying to act grown up.

After what felt like hours but was probably seconds, help arrived in the form of a black cloaked unicorn. Although she wore a hood over her head, Twilight saw her features clearly. Her mane was a fiery yellow and red like the sun in contrast to the darker yellow of her coat. For a few moments, she seemed to engage in some internal debate and then sighed once it ended.

“Hey, kid. You lost?”

Twilight sniffed and nodded.

“Do you know where your family is?”

Twilight shook her head and forced out, “I w-was headed to the c-cere – ceremony and–”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take you there,” the mare said. Her horn emitted an amaranth light as she raised Twilight to her back with her magic. She twisted to speak directly with Twilight. “We’ll head right over and get you a good view of the crowd and Sunbu – er, Princess Celestia. We might be able to find your family there once the sun comes up.”

Twilight managed to bring her tears down to a mere runny nose and thanked her savior as they set out.

“Who are you?” Twilight asked.

After a few moments, the mare replied, “Eventide. And you?”

“I’m Twilight.”

“What? Really?”

Although a little bemused at the surprise in Eventide’s voice, Twilight nodded. Then she remembered that she had to answer aloud and so repeated her answer.

“Ha! We’re the best. Hoof bump.” Eventide stopped walking to twist an arm around to present a hoof to Twilight.

Curious as to the purpose of the gesture, Twilight cautiously tapped her own much smaller hoof against Eventide’s, careful not to fall off in the process. “Why?” she asked. Perhaps she could have phrased that with greater specificity, but it got the point across.

“Our names mean the same thing, Twi. Best time of the day.”

Twilight logged away a new word into her vocabulary with a smile. But the other thing? “Twi? Cadance calls me that.”

Eventide stumbled over a step. “Cadance?” she echoed. Hesitantly, she asked, “Are you talking about Princess Mi Amore Cadenza?”

“Um… Maybe?”

“Pegasus? Pink? Heart shaped cutie mark?”

Twilight nodded, but when she again realized Eventide couldn’t see it, she verbally replied, “Yes.”

Too quiet to hear over the noise of the crowd, Eventide muttered something. Twilight considered asking her to repeat what she’d said but thought better of it. She seemed deep in thought at the moment as she scanned her surroundings.

Before too long, Eventide broke the lull in conversation. “Are you a princess?”

Twilight denied her alleged royal status. Although Eventide made no response to that, she felt the tension release in the shoulders below her. She knew ponies tended to act peculiarly around royalty, however, so she paid the odd response no further attention.

Canterlot’s central plaza was breathtaking even in the middle of the night. Twilight, having never been, let out a gasp at the sight. A massive fountain sat at its heart, a work of art drawn in flows and streams of water with further decorative embellishments in the stonework too far away to see in detail. Statues and foliage ringed the centerpiece, and ponies filled nearly every bit of empty space. Nearest the castle, a large stage filled with important looking ponies sat ready and waiting for Princess Celestia.

Upon arrival, Eventide stopped outside the throng of ponies and looked around for a way in. Obviously discouraged, she said, “Hold on tight.”

Before Twilight could ask why, the amaranth glow of Eventide’s magic enveloped them both. She felt her weight leave her, and then they rose high above the crowd. In her surprise, Twilight nearly lost her grip in her brief panic, but she regained it as she realized they were flying. They were actually flying! The hovering pegasi nearby gave the pair a few odd looks but soon returned to their own business.

All too soon, it came to an end. Eventide found an unoccupied roof nearby and landed atop it. They now had a full view of the crowd and, more importantly, the ceremony to come.

“That was amazing!” Twilight shouted as Eventide set her down on the rooftop. “I’ve never seen a unicorn fly! How did you do that?”

“Well,” Eventide began, pride clear in her voice, “I graduated at the top of my class at Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.”

“Really! My brother goes there, too!”

Eventide again muttered something under her breath. This time, however, she quickly replied with, “Yep. I was no match for the real monsters–”

“Monsters?” Twilight interrupted. “Princess Celestia accepts monsters at her school?” She had thought she would go there herself since her brother said it was the best place to learn magic in Equestria, but if it had monsters…

“No, no. That’s just an expression. What I meant is that there were some very powerful ponies I couldn’t compete with via conventional means. At least not at the time.”

Twilight wasn’t quite sure she understood, and it must have shown on her face.

“Look, Twi, some ponies are just born lucky.” Veering away from what sounded like a bitter topic, Eventide asked, “Can you do any magic yet?”

Twilight looked down, ashamed, and rubbed the roof with her hoof. “Not really. I can barely open a book.”

“That’s pretty good, actually,” Eventide said to Twilight’s surprise. Sure, her family had told her the same thing, but they didn’t count. They were obligated to be supportive. “I imagine you feel other foals are outshining you?”

Tentatively, Twilight nodded as she parsed what Eventide had said. Most other foals could at least do something with their magic already, even if not on demand.

“You could do more as well. If you let yourself go. It’s a matter of control. Those other foals are acting on impulse. They let their magic act on their whims. It’s sloppy. Unreliable. Convenient but wasteful. You don’t want that, do you? You want to cast spells.”

Twilight nodded eagerly.

“I had the same problem. When I was your age, I couldn’t so much as move a balloon. Of course, now I can easily lift myself up onto roofs with a passenger.”

“So that’s how you did it!” Once her initial excitement died down, Twilight realized there was a problem with that conclusion. “But if it’s that easy, why don’t other unicorns fly around?”

“Because they’re fools,” Eventide replied. “It doesn’t really matter how many spells you know or how powerful you are. A little creativity goes a long, long way. Even cantrips can be used in hundreds of different ways beyond the main reason behind their development. Most ponies never look outside the box to see what they can really do. Take telekinesis. Most unicorns see everypony else using it solely for moving other things and never think to turn it onto themselves. The same is true of nearly every other spell, and every other magic, and…well, everything really. Rarely does a pony see something and repurpose it for a different task or try to improve it.”

Eventide turned to Twilight and booped her on the nose. “You’d better not grow up to be so foolish after I took the time to lecture you on this.”

Twilight’s eyes positively glowed with admiration. Nothing in her books had even hinted at anything near what Eventide had told her. “Do you really think I can be that smart?”

“It’s not about being smart or even powerful. Just keep looking for alternate solutions to problems and different ways to use magic.”

Twilight hummed in thought as she stared off toward the stage, trying to think of how she could use her weak telekinesis for something useful.

“Even with your magic still developing, I’m sure you can think of other uses for it besides turning book pages. Perhaps not right away or right now, but maybe tomorrow, or the day after, or next week. The important part is not to be discouraged if nothing comes to mind or if you come up with an idea that doesn’t work. Even bad ideas should be treated as a step in the right direction.”

“Why?”

“Because you want to encourage yourself to think of ideas at all, not punish yourself for being creative and having things not work out.”

“That’s foalish.”

“Oh, it is. But unfortunately, we’re all pretty foalish inside.”

Twilight adopted a skeptical look, but Eventide just laughed.

“Just remember what I’ve said. You’ll understand in time. Oh, and here’s another secret. Don’t make a habit of using telekinesis to move yourself around. Walk most of the time.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Eventide began. She then moved closer to Twilight to whisper, “You’ll get fat.”

Twilight gasped and then looked questioningly at Eventide but was too polite to ask.

“I see that look you have. It’s true. Those were…not my better years.” Eventide offered Twilight a conspiratorial smirk, and she couldn’t help but giggle in return.

A fanfare of trumpets called out announcing the arrival of Princess Celestia. The alicorn seemed to glow in these early hours as she approached the stage at a regal pace. This being the first time Twilight had ever seen the princess, she found herself gaping. The princess was easily twice the size of any other pony, and she possessed both enormous wings and a horn, just like Shining had claimed and The Alicorn had depicted.

Twilight heard Eventide snicker and so quickly shut her mouth, but her stare remained.

Princess Celestia gave a long speech that Twilight barely paid any attention to and was soon banished from her memory by the splendor that followed. With a mighty thrust of her wings, the princess truly glowed as she rose into the sky above the stage. With her ascension, the sun rose above the horizon. Its rays outlined her in the air as her horn grew ever brighter, practically becoming a second sun in its own right. The sky moved from black, to purple, to red, to yellow, and then finally took on a familiar blue, each shade complementing her in its own special way.

When the princess returned to the stage, the crowd cheered, and Twilight cheered with them. She had doubted, but what she’d seen was too beautiful to question a moment longer.

Twilight had just finished her cheer when a thought took her. “Will I be able to raise the sun someday?”

A pregnant silence fell on their little rooftop retreat.

“Maybe,” Eventide replied. Twilight didn’t know what, but some strange emotion lingered in the air. But then, in an instant, it was gone. “I can’t say it’s impossible, but I think Princess Celestia would probably be upset with you.”

“Oh…” Twilight couldn’t imagine upsetting the princess, not after today.

“Perhaps if you ask permission first. But hey, look. I found Cadance.” Eventide pointed toward the stage. Twilight followed the hoof until her gaze landed upon the pegasus in question. As soon as it had, she felt Eventide’s magic pick her up and once more deposit her onto the mare’s back. “I’ll take you down there. Just…don’t mention me.”





Night Light lugged two stacks of eleven thick books into his home, his flickering, light-blue magic clearly showing the strain he’d put it through during the journey. Setting them down at the bottom of the stairs, he took a break to ease his weary horn. It was at times like these that he wished his little filly was strong enough to make her own library runs – and on second thought, old enough as well. Five was a tad too young to send somepony, even a prodigy of her level, out alone into the world.

Picking up the books once more, Night Light finished the last leg of his errand and ascended the stairs. He then knocked on Twilight’s door, which was, quite fortunately, just at the top.

“Come in.” The door swung open in time with the words, a faint raspberry glow pulling at its handle.

Night Light stepped inside with the library books trailing behind him. “Hey, Twilight. I picked up everything you asked for.”

Twilight let out a small squee from her desk. She crossed the room in a blink and then leapt up to hug Night Light, dangling from his neck by her hooves. “Thank you so much!” she said as he wrapped an arm around her to support her weight. Her magic took over for his the moment he set the books down, carrying them one by one to their new home for the next few weeks.

“It’s no problem. We’re always happy to get you any books you want. Although if you could spread your requests out into smaller batches…”

Twilight looked up from her hug and said, “I’ll try.”

“Oh, and your mother wants you to wash the dishes if you’re feeling up to the task.”

Thinking for a moment, Twilight nodded. “I can manage it.”

Breaking apart from each other, Night Light and Twilight walked downstairs and into the living room. She continued on into the kitchen while Night Light diverted to the study where he found his wife at work.

“I still can’t believe it,” Night Light said, causing his wife to glance up from her desk. “What are the chances we get two geniuses out of two foals?”

Twilight Velvet shrugged. “Either really good, or really bad, but I suspect the former. It’s a lot easier when we know what to do. It also helps that Shining is both willing to lend a hoof and already grown and out of our manes.” She paused a moment to nibble on the end of her quill. “I still suspect something important happened at the last Summer Sun Celebration.”

Night Light considered that as he always did. It was readily apparent that seeing Princess Celestia raise the sun had fanned the flames of Twilight’s interest in magic. Anypony could see that. But beyond the obvious, there was something subtly different in how she behaved that neither Night Light nor Velvet had ever quite been able to put their magic on.

“I still worry about her,” said Night Light.

“We’ve had this conversation before, dear. Several times.”

“I know, I know. It’s just, Shining had trouble making friends in school. He was smart, and studious, and sort of a show off. A lot of his peers ended up resenting and bullying him or just pretended he didn’t exist. But Twilight…” Night Light pursed his lips. While he didn’t like to think there was something wrong with his daughter, lying to himself helped nopony. “She doesn’t even seem to care. It’s like she doesn’t even notice other ponies exist. She was like that even before the festival, but…more shy than oblivious?”

“She took to Cadance quickly enough.”

That hardly needed any explanation. “Cadance stepped up and helped her learn to read. There’s no way she wouldn’t like her after that.” It was one of the many reasons Night Light had all but welcomed the mare into the family. He still didn’t understand how the universe had aligned such that Shining had ended up dating royalty – they were, after all, still trying to pretend they could hide their affections – but so long as she didn’t break his son’s heart, he wished them well.

Velvet sighed. Night Light recognized that particular brand of sigh as the one she made when she tired of arguing a point. “I think Shining may have put it best. He does have a much better understanding of her mentality than we do.” Performing her best imitation her son, she quoted, “‘It doesn’t matter if she never has a single friend in her life so long as she’s happy.’” She paused a moment to massage her throat. “I know it’s unusual, but who are we to question what she enjoys?”

“Her parents.”

“That doesn’t mean we should try to change who she is. Forcibly altering her utility function would be tantamount to killing her, never mind that we’d then have a new filly running around the house.”

Night Light rolled his eyes and collapsed onto the sofa in the room. “Why did I ever marry a philosopher?” Velvet didn’t even use her degree. She was a writer, for Celestia’s sake.

But then Velvet purred, “You know why.” A knowing smirk crept up her face as Night Light caught her meaning. With a foreboding click, the study door locked.

The faint sound of tableware shattering filtered into the room. The mood broke in an instant. Alas, such were the perils of having children.

“Oh dear,” Velvet said, worried. “Could you take care of that, Nighty?”

With a nod and a reluctant sigh, Night Light left the study. Apparently it’s too soon to ask Twilight to do the dishes.

A second crash, this one louder, came from the kitchen and was followed by a barely audible grinding sound.

Odd… I would have expected Twilight to stop trying after the first accident. She’s not the kind of filly who can’t recognize her limi–

Walking into the kitchen, Night Light saw Twilight smash a third plate on the floor. So puzzled by her behavior was he that he said nothing and just watched as Twilight further broke the plate into smaller pieces. Once she finished, her horn glowed a brilliant raspberry. Her face clearly showed the strain she put on it. Then the spell was cast. A small skittering sound came from the scattered pieces of the smashed plate as they slowly came together back into their original form looking brand new and, more interestingly, spotless.

That…was impressive.

Twilight took a deep breath before grabbing another plate in her magic and smashing it to the ground as she had the previous one.

“Any particular reason you’re…washing the dishes like that?” asked Night Light.

Looking up, surprised, Twilight answered, “It’s faster this way. And they get cleaner.”

“But it’s not easier, I’d imagine. You look like you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

Shrugging, Twilight continued her work.

“When did you even learn a repair spell?”

Twilight only answered after she placed another newly re-minted plate with the others in her output pile. “I dropped a book in a puddle. There was water damage even with magic helping.” She broke another plate. “I needed a way to fix it. The basic repair spell is…vers…versi… versatile–” The latest plate joined the rest after a few seconds of magic dancing to her whim. “–but tiring.”

“I see… You’re learning at an incredible rate.”

A huge smile greeted the complement.

Oh, she’s so cute! If only Night Light had a camera at hoof. “What were you planning to do with the silverware?”

“I don’t need to break them. It just makes it easier” – another plate broke against the ground – “to see the spell as ‘repairing’ them if they’re really broken. It’s a matter of visualization.” Twilight carefully sounded the last word out. “It’s unnecessary, but it helps.”

Not knowing any repair magic himself, Night Light waited until Twilight finished with her latest spell to interrupt her. “If you’re in such a rush to get back to reading, why don’t you let me finish these for you.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Go have fun.”

“Thanks!” After a quick hug, Twilight bounded out of the kitchen, presumably destined for her room upstairs.

Night Light watched his daughter run off and then turned to examine her spellcraft. Levitating the plate up to examine every angle, he found absolutely nothing to complain about.

Very impressive.





It’d been almost a year since Shining Armor moved out of his parents’ home and joined the Royal Guard. Since then, what little free time he had, he mostly spent with Cadance. But today she was busy doing ‘princess stuff’. However regretful, this left Shining free to spend the day with his precious little sister.

Speaking of whom, Shining always knew where to find her. He had no need of a tracking spell, neither a magical version nor a parental one. If Twily was not with his best friend – and secretly his mare friend – Cadance or out with the family, then she was in her room reading or practicing magic.

Bursting into said space, Shining shouted, “LSBFF!”

“BBBFF!” Twily replied, jumping into his ready and waiting arms for a hug. “What brings you here, Shining?”

“I had some free time and wanted to see my adorable little sister now that she’s six years old.”

The smallest and subtlest frown passed over Twily’s face before returning to a smile. “Oh? So what should we do?”

“Hey, I saw that.”

“Saw what?”

“Oh, you little liar,” Shining said as he gave Twily a gentle noogie. “I should throw you in jail for lying to a royal guardspony. I saw that frown. What’s wrong?”

Twily avoided Shining’s eyes for a while, but he had no intention of letting her out of answering.

“I was just…at a bad point to stop reading. But it’s no problem! Let’s go have some fun together.”





Velvet and Night Light returned home late at night and found Cadance with a wing draped over a sleeping Twilight, now seven years old, whose face was firmly planted in a book with notes littered around her. This had happened several times before, but each new occurrence was just as adorable as the last.

“Thanks for foalsitting Twilight again, Cadance,” Velvet said.

“It’s no trouble. All I have to do is give Twi something new to read, and she entertains herself.”

Night Light smiled and looked down at what Twilight had written. The vast majority of her notes bore outrageously large numbers – with units. A sizable collection of diagrams accompanied the math, all of which went right over his head. The only thing he could decipher from the mess was a vague, general intent to move something.

Something big, apparently.

At the bottom of one parchment, Twilight had scrawled, “Even bad ideas are a step in the right direction.” It had more than a few underlines beneath it. It was the kind of emphasis a pony made when they were frustrated and wanted to give up but too stubborn to actually do so. Or maybe that was just Night Light.

“What book did you give her?”

“Hmm?” Cadance turned her attention from Twilight to Night Light. “Oh, Twi asked me to bring an astronomy text last time. No clue why.”





“Mom? Dad?” Twilight sat down at the table across from her parents with a serious expression upon her face. “Could you look over my application for me?”

“Application?” Velvet looked on questioningly, put down her morning coffee, and took the papers Twilight placed on the table. “This is an application to Princess Celestia’s school. And the scholarship application as well.” For some reason, she sounded a little disappointed.

Night Light quickly stepped in to explain. “We were going to fill these out for you and surprise you next week just after your birthday.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.” Twilight almost immediately realized she had an irreplaceable opportunity. Putting on the best pleading eyes she could, Twilight asked, “You don’t suppose I could get a different surprise, could I?”

“I’m sure we can come up with something,” Night Light mused.

“Hmm…” Velvet tapped a hoof to her jaw in thought. “I suppose I have an idea.”

“What is it?” Twilight eagerly asked.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?”

“I suppose not…”

“You’ll just have to wait. And when you least expect it…”

After a brief pause, Night Light continued, “Wham! Surprise and happy times!”

Twilight jumped in surprise. A few moments later, she recovered and then laughed. Her parents were not as interesting as magic – what could be? – but they certainly knew how to deliver a joke.





Twilight. T. Why can’t ponies pick names like…Zel…or Xyn…um…Water Lilly? That one is good. All this waiting is so. Very. Stressful. What’s the point of having a great name like Twilight if you just get shuffled to the back of every single alphabetized list?

Twilight sighed. Her written exams had gone perfectly. Or at least it was her opinion that they had. She put considerable stock in her ability to judge herself, so she’d already erased the simplistic exam designed for eight-year-olds from her mind. All that remained was the practical test, a test that, for some bizarre reasoning, the proctors had decided needed to be done one applicant at a time.

A proctor approached Twilight where she sat with a sweet smile. “Twilight Sparkle?” she asked as a formality despite Twilight being the only other pony in the room. Once she had confirmation, she said, “If you would follow me, we’re ready to start your practical examination.”

Twilight followed the mare down a couple hallways into a large lecture hall. An entire panel of proctors – or what Twilight referred to as judges – waited with clipboards and quills at the ready to decide her fate. At the front of the room stood a small cart filled past overflowing with straw upon which resided a large, polka-dotted egg. Upon review, only one species fit its appearance.

“Is that a dragon egg?” Twilight asked. For what possible reason could such a thing be present?

“Yes, it is,” the center judge replied with some surprise. He was an old stallion with a small white beard growing from his jaw. His dark gray coat did nothing to help him look younger, nor did his weary smile. No doubt he’d been worn down from dealing with more foals than anypony his age should. “I’m glad to see an applicant who’s so knowledgeable.”

Twilight quickly offered her thanks for the compliment.

“I am Dean Weatherby,” the stallion continued. “This year’s practical exam is for you to hatch this dragon egg.”

Twilight stood struck speechless.

“Not all applicants are successful, and not all successful applicants will successfully hatch their egg. If their written exams are outstanding.”

Eyes narrowing in suspicion, Twilight’s gaze turned toward her exam. Not all applicants successfully hatch the egg? How about, ‘no applicants are successful.’ Hatching a dragon egg is hard enough, and I can already tell that they have additional spells preventing it.

“That said, do try your best. Your brother was very talented and spoke highly of you, so we expect great things from you as well.”

Well, that certainly makes a filly less nervous. Twilight breathed deep as Cadance had taught her minus the arm movements to keep herself centered.

“You have up to twenty minutes to try any approach you wish. You may begin.”

With permission given, Twilight set to work. Not by casting spells, of course. That would be daft. She already knew that wasn’t the point of this exam. The question then became what was?

All right, it’s obvious they don’t expect anypony to actually hatch the egg. They probably don’t even have a backup since they’re doing the practicals one at a time. So what do they want to see? Creative approaches? Raw power? Knowledge that this shouldn’t be possible? Maybe some combination of the three? Do they want me to try even knowing?

I suppose I should at least see what spells they put on the egg before I make any hasty decisions.

Twilight sat down next to the egg and directed small-scale probing spells at it. After a few minutes of sitting completely still staring at it and having done nothing apparently interesting – for the proctors were not yet monitoring what spells she was using – her audience looked a bit bored. Dean Weatherby, she noticed, gave them a stern glare but proved unable to get them to focus on her after a long day of examinations.

Not that it mattered. Most of her worries and respect for them flew out the window as Twilight pieced together the information her probing spells gave her.

This is some of the laziest spellcraft I have ever seen. I suppose I can’t expect anypony my age to notice, let alone be able to pick it apart, but still. I’m insulted. They could have at least tried. What if somepony actually managed to hatch the egg and mother or father a dragon? I can only imagine what…

What if that pony was me? The only worry is that pesky time limit. I’m not strong enough to brute force this.





Weatherby watched his current examinee with a careful eye. The filly hadn’t yet done anything particularly interesting. She’d kept herself busy attempting something so far, but her magical output had been too low to affect the egg in the slightest. Perhaps she had a smaller than average pool to draw from for her age. It would certainly explain her hesitance to make any larger scale attempt.

Still, this Twilight Sparkle was the younger sister of perhaps the school’s best student in recent years. While Weatherby would not dream of judging a candidate by their family or their connections, he could make predictions. It certainly helped her case that her genius older brother had, on far more than one occasion, referred to her as the family prodigy.

A glint came into Twilight’s eye. Weatherby, who had decades of experience dealing with trouble making foals, noticed it immediately while his fellow proctors watched on unaware. He channeled magic into his horn and investigated her activities without interfering. The moment the results came back, they staggered him so hard that he almost feared a heart attack.

She’s picking at the protection spells’ weak points! She’s already knocked out two of them! That shouldn’t be possible. How is she… A few quick spells gave Weatherby all the information he needed. I see. I’ll need to have a talk with Prism later about quality spellcraft on exam materials.

Weatherby watched Twilight pick away another pair of spells from the egg in less than a minute.

Dear Celestia, that filly is talented. She’ll have them all off a few minutes before time is called at this rate.

Weatherby considered how he should respond to this revelation. He could call the test, just in case. There really was no need to continue. But at the same time, his curiosity compelled him. He had to know how far Twilight could get. The foals at his school caused all manner of trouble and wacky hijinks – most of which he secretly laughed at as he scolded the perpetrators – but this one promised to take the cake. He could just imagine the priceless expressions he’d see when he told the other proctors what the little filly was doing while they sat bored and mostly ignoring her. Ah, it would be glorious.

Weatherby was finally called back to the room from his imaginings, much to his regret, when Twilight stomped the ground in apparent frustration. Quickly checking the clock, he noticed he’d let ten minutes pass by while he’d laughed at his thoughts and colleagues.

Twilight shifted her weight lower to the ground and pointed her horn directly at the egg. It seemed somepony had placed a particularly good protective spell on it. Reaching out with his senses, Weatherby probed the magic surrounding Twilight to determine what was giving her so much trouble. It might turn out to be a weakness they’d have to incorporate into her lesson plan. All he found, however, was raw magical power. It poured forth from her horn at a shocking rate for a pony so young. What could she possibly–

No… The faint hint of worry set in. She couldn’t already be…

With an encroaching panic, Weatherby checked the egg posthaste to determine what spells were left on it. Finding none, he jumped out of his chair and startled the other proctors who’d finally begun paying attention to Twilight – Twilight, but not the egg.

“Wait!”





Twilight stomped the ground as hard as she could. It would do nothing useful, but it released a bit of her irritation. She’d removed the last spell – far ahead of her original estimated time, in fact – and started pushing raw magic into the egg. She’d known going into this that dragon eggs required a notorious amount of magic to hatch, but this was ridiculous. She’d been at this for well over a minute now. If she were any other foal, she’d have long since collapsed from exhaustion.

Why! Don’t! You! Hatch!

The egg, of course, had no answer for her.

Fine! I’ll put everything I have into you, and forget how tired it makes me!

Centering herself, Twilight lowered her horn to aim straight at her target. No fancy tricks. No control. Just power. She thought she heard somepony shout something, but it was too early for time to be called, so she ignored it. Instead, she threw as much magic as she possibly could into the dragon egg. The stress on her horn was outrageous, far beyond anything she’d ever experienced before. It almost felt like it was breaking, but her determination to see this to the end got her through the pain. She bit her tongue to keep herself from screaming as her magic and her will both began to waver. With a quick breath, she put what remained of herself into one last push.

*crack*

The world stopped.

Everypony heard it, the sound of an eggshell splitting.

Seconds passed in silence, broken only by further cracks and snaps from the new life escaping its confinement. After a full minute went by, the newly born dragon rolled out of its egg. It yawned, unconcerned with the weight of its birth, before settling down for a nap.

As if to punctuate this event, a deafening boom resounded with no discernible source. A small wave of power came with the noise. The incompatible magic irritated Twilight’s horn after the abuse she’d put it through. She was, at this point, nearly ready to pass out from the combined magical exhaustion and physical trauma.

On her last breath, Twilight struggled to sit up from where she’d collapsed. She stammered out, “There. I did it. Now don’t give any – any impossible – tests any – anymore,” before falling back onto her barrel and letting herself lose consciousness.





Weatherby sat with his fellow proctors, patiently waiting to continue deciding which applicants they would accept and which they would be forced to turn away. As usual, their headmare had joined them. Princess Celestia took it as her personal responsibility to make sure merit and ability were always the deciding factors at her school. Not as usual, she’d shown up late today, thus the delay while she quickly reviewed every decision made prior to her arrival with disturbing speed, as if shedding any pretense of mortality the alicorn put on to keep her subjects at ease in her presence.

First, she reviewed the rejections. Weatherby could see the hurt every time his princess had to agree with the verdict and wondered why she subjected herself to this and wouldn’t simply trust his judgment. It would be so much easier for everypony involved. As the Dean of Students, admissions was part of his job. Besides, she’d only overruled a rejection he’d made once in his five decades of service for one Sunset Shimmer. He knew better than to gloat after what that mare had done, but he still wanted to even a decade later.

After she finished reviewing the rejections, Princess Celestia moved on to the accepted applicants. Each appeared to heal some of the hurt, although not all.

Then finally, once Princess Celestia had caught up, the meeting continued. They were about halfway through the stack of hopefuls, and although Weatherby was eager to see how she would react to the one at the very bottom, they proceeded at their usual careful mortal pace.

Each application came and went. As much as Weatherby hated to admit it, few, if any, of his possible students showed real potential. But this wasn’t Princess Celestia’s School for Future Legendary Mages, so he admitted many of them anyway. Not every pony needed to be a great hero or the next Star Swirl the Bearded to do some good in the world.

Finally, at long last, they reached the bottom of the pile. “So,” said Weatherby. “Does anypony have any objections to Twilight Sparkle?”

Nopony said a word, but Princess Celestia’s brow noticeably furrowed to everypony’s surprise except Weatherby. He’d spent enough time in his very long life with her to see her drop the eternally calm smile she wore like a dress.

“Dean Weatherby?” Princess Celestia began.

“Yes?” Weatherby responded, thinking, This is going to be good.

“One of my guards is Shining Armor, and I often hear him speak of his sister and how gifted she is. I see that she even managed a perfect score on the written exams. But please tell me why the only comment on her practical section is ‘a mother’.”

“Oh, I’d have expected you to know by now if Shining Armor won’t stop talking about her,” Weatherby began with a playful delight he’d not had a chance for in years. “It’s recent, however, so I can understand if you haven’t heard, but she is a mother.”

“Please elaborate on how an eight-year-old filly manages to give birth to anything.”

“It’s not as difficult as it sounds. All you need is a dragon egg.”

Princess Celestia’s blank look was priceless. Weatherby had seen her in several odd situations she was no doubt glad were not public, but this was the first time she appeared completely lost for words.

“Did you change the practical exam without notifying me?”

“Nope.”

“So you’re saying–”

“She stripped off the protections and hatched it properly, yes.”

Princess Celestia opened her mouth and then shut it again, words failing her once more. Finally, she said, “Please reject Twilight.”

“Excuse me?” Weatherby said incredulously, accompanying the gasps and cries of anger from the rest of the room. “Why on Equus would we do that?”

“Because there’s no class we can put her in that could possibly keep pace with her.”

“You can’t tell her to teach herself!”

“Of course not.” Princess Celestia smiled again, but unlike the usual one, Weatherby noted that this instance was expectant and eager.





Miss Twilight Sparkle,

Please excuse the hoofwritten letter. I fear we don’t have a standard response printed for your case. I very much regret to inform you that Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns is unable to accept you as a student despite your outstanding written and practical examinations.

That said, another offer is being prepared for you (if you have not already received it by mail) that you should find very exciting.


Sorcerer Weatherby
Dean of Students for Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns
Defeater of Ralarth, Lord of Fire






Twilight hadn’t even finished the letter from Dean Weatherby before she decided that this was, in fact, the worst day of her life. She’d been so sure she’d not only passed both exams but even outsmarted the proctors on the practical portion. She’d even gotten her starburst cutie mark in the process, the very symbol of magic! It’s appearance had been expected someday but still exciting. Now it felt like a brand marking her as a failure at the one thing she was supposed to be good at.

But surely it counted for something. She had potential, at least, right? She must. She had to. It was destiny! Something else must have gone wrong.

Is it because I passed out at the end of the practical? Are they upset that I actually hatched the dragon? What about the taunt? I remember saying something rude, but I don’t remember what.

It became all too clear that there were far too many reasons they could give for failing her.

Twilight tried to convince herself that this other offer was something to look forward to – and she was confused they were even bothering – but she wasn’t able to keep up the sheer optimism required for more than a few seconds.

Night Light and Velvet looked on sadly, but apparently neither could think of the right words to say. “Twilight,” the latter hazarded, “I know this meant a lot to you, but they did say they were preparing something special for you. I’m sure it’s something good.”

“Your mother’s right. It was even hoofwritten. That has to mean something.”

“I already know that,” Twilight whimpered. “I know. I just… I think I need to be alone for a while.”

Night Light and Velvet looked to each other and then sighed. The few times they’d tried to force her to open up early had not ended well, and Twilight was sure that by now they knew she could deal with this on her own.

“We understand,” Velvet said, an actually understanding tone, not one resigned to the inevitable, hanging in her voice. It was just what Twilight wanted to hear. “Just try not to cry your heart out too much.”

“Thank you,” Twilight mumbled as she left for her room.





Dear Twilight Sparkle,

I hope this letter reaches you before the one from Dean Weatherby. He likes to play pranks, and I would hate to cause you any undue distress. If not, I apologize for the delay.

Every year I admit young ponies to my school who could do better in a less structured environment (your brother was one of them). In an ideal world, each student’s curriculum would be fully individualized with hoofpicked instructors. Sadly, the funding required for such a school would be astronomical. While I do mint the money, I am certainly not made of it!

Now as I was saying, you have clearly demonstrated magical talent and a gift for learning far beyond my school’s ability to nurture. Should you choose to attend it (or any other), I suspect the teaching curriculum would constantly constrain you. This would, at best, frustrate you as you continue your own private studies or, at worst, destroy your potential. I would not see your talent lost to the bureaucracies necessary to run a school or a country.

As such, although it has been well over three centuries since I last accepted a personal student, I would be honored if you would permit me to instruct you personally. If I have erred in my opinion on your wishes, I will arrange for you to attend my school (or any other of your choice) instead should you desire. You need not be concerned for my feelings on the matter. However, I do hope you accept my offer.

A few particulars to note. Due to my dense and erratic schedule, I would require that you live in the castle with me. I suspect neither of us would be satisfied or happy if I had to send for you at random for lessons. It will, of course, be permitted for you to leave to visit family and for family to come visit you. If your parents have any objections, we can try to arrange something else. However, if so, you may wish to remind them that your brother would be nearby often.

Lastly, although I doubt that this is close to your mind right now, any choice you make will be fully funded.


(Hopefully) Your Friend and Mentor
Princess Celestia
Diarch of Equestria
Defeater of Discord
Alicorn of the Sun


P.S. Rumor has it you got your cutie mark during your practical exam. Congratulations!





With flickering, unstable magic, Twilight read the letter from Princess Celestia.

Well over three centuries? My school? C-could it be? T-this is!





Night Light and Velvet grew increasingly worried as Twilight read more of the letter, her face contorting in odd ways they were unable to place. Both were thinking the exact same thing: What could possibly be written in that, and why didn’t we read it first?

Finally Twilight fainted on the spot and dropped her letter.

“Twilight!” The pair called out together.

Night Light rushed to grab his daughter in his arms. While they were not unskilled with magic, telekinesis especially, and though it would have been better to catch her so, neither parent’s reflexes were hooked up to their horn the way their daughter’s was. Even so, he managed to catch her and laid her down gently on the sofa. Both wished to have paid more attention in their basic medical magic class. Fainting was easy to reverse in theory. One merely had to know what spell to cast.

“What could possibly…” Velvet began, picking up and reading the letter.

Soon after, she fainted too.

This time Night Light was ready and managed to gently lower Velvet to the floor with telekinesis. Concern lined his face.

Is the letter dangerous? I don’t notice any spells active on it, and I don’t think any triggered when they fainted. They’re both okay, for certain definitions of okay. There’s no ongoing spells on them. At least none that I can detect. Curious, he brought the letter up from the floor to eye level.

And soon, he, too, fainted with nopony to catch him.





“Hey, everypony!” Shining shouted as he stormed through his family’s front door. “I hear my LSBFF is depressed! Well, I know just what to–” He stopped to observe the two bodies on the ground and one on the sofa only to then remind himself that he was off duty. They were ponies, not bodies. “Why is everypony sleeping on the floor?”

Shining noticed a dropped letter nearby and picked it up.

“Is this the culprit? Seems ordinary enough.”

He read through the letter and laughed.

“If you’re defeated by something like this, you’d never make it in the Royal Guard, much less as the vice-captain.”

After putting down the letter, Shining carried the three sleeping ponies to their beds with a wish in his heart.

I hope Twily will need some royal guarding.
> Chapter One - Archmage
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Where he failed, I will succeed! Mark this day, this hour, this minute, for it will echo in eternity!”





A small burst of green flame erupted from Spike along with a letter. A few nearby guards reflexively ran for their lives before realizing that the castle’s resident dragon had his fiery breath under control this time. They returned to their posts soon enough, but it still irritated him. He hadn’t set anything important on fire in forever.

At any rate, while Spike had planned to hang out with his cousin, Flurry Heart, he figured it was getting late and he should probably deliver the letter. Twilight’s bizarre sleep schedule should have her awake right now and at home in their tower. He could visit his extended family another time.

After trekking through most of Canterlot Castle, stopping only briefly for a snack at the kitchens and small talk with one of the guards posted outside, Flash Sentry, Spike came to the base of the massive staircase that led up to his home. Twenty stories was a long climb made even longer for Spike, who lacked long pony legs. He never made it more than twice a day if he could avoid it, once down and then once back up.

Today seemed to be a bit different, however. Spike wondered if he’d taken a wrong turn towards some other ridiculously long staircase. If not, then some statue appeared to have been erected in the middle of the steps today for no particular reason. It was made of a dark brown stone and depicted a fancy-looking pony climbing the stairs, frozen mid-step.

On second thought, that stone smells an awful lot like–

Spike’s world inverted briefly as the pull of a teleport brought him from the fourth flight all the way up into the vestibule of his home. There Twilight fumed in her own mostly controlled way in the next room over, but he felt he should say something about what he’d just seen even if it upset her further.

“Mom,” Spike began, earning a glare from Twilight. “Err, I know you’re feeling a bit stressed–”

“A bit?” Twilight all but shouted.

“Okay, maybe really stressed. But you went overboard there.”

“Overboard! I’m fed up with those useless nobles bothering me for favors. I’ve barely even been back in the country for a few days, and they’re already banging down my door. I took the archmage position and everything else she offloaded onto me to help Celestia, not so I could help the rabble solve their petty problems in their petty games. I have more important things to do than social calculus.”

Twilight wasn’t even bothering to look at Spike anymore. Now that she’d vented, all was right with her world. Or at least he assumed so. It was sometimes hard to tell with her. She’d already returned to whatever research she’d been working on, at any rate, flipping through pages of books at a speed that disturbed nearly everyone who saw it. That usually meant she’d found some peace of mind.

Not quite ready to drop the subject, however, Spike approached his mother’s desk across the room. “You know, you can just teleport them away before they get here.” It was her typical response when she wanted solitude. “That poor stallion didn’t deserve to be encased in solid chocolate and left there to melt.”

Twilight took a deep breath and then exhaled a moment later while rubbing her cheeks. She didn’t put down her work, but her expression softened. “You’re right, Spike. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” Spike knew her last field mission had tired Twilight mentally, if not magically or physically, but he’d not yet managed to get her to tell him why.

“That’s sweet, but I don’t think a good mother should dump her problems on her son. It should be the other way around.”

Spike noticed that Twilight had never actually said no. It was the kind of detail one had to learn to spot with a pony like her raising you. He blamed Princess Celestia for that, who was even worse.

“Do you want to anyways?” Spike asked.

“Yes.”

Spike sighed. That was, technically, not the right question to get a proper answer either. He tried again. “Are you going to?”

“No.”

Spike facepalmed, a habit he’d picked up from his mother. “Fine. I have another letter for you.”

Twilight’s eye twitched, her attention now fully on Spike. “It’s not from my parents, is it?”

“Do you want me to just throw it in the fire?”

“No, I’ll read it. But if it’s more pressure to get married – I mean, they already have a grandfoal from both Shining and I, and I have no problem being a single parent.”

Twilight levitated the letter away from Spike’s grasp and tore it open. Reading through it with superpony speed nearly on par with Princess Celestia, she burnt it to ash within ten seconds, seven of those seconds being composed solely of combusting paper.

“You know what you need right now?” From experience, Spike knew there were only a rare few things which would banish his mother’s irritation completely, but some close substitutes existed.

“A few more chocolate covered nobles? They taste divine.”

“No,” Spike deadpanned. “You need to read a good story!”

A small but knowing smile crept onto Twilight’s face. “I take it you also think I would benefit from reading it aloud.”

“Well,” Spike said, drawing out the word, “it couldn’t hurt.”

Twilight acquiesced without a fight. Operation Win-Win was a resounding success. “All right, Spike, I’ll read to you until your bed time. What story do you want? More dragon tales?”

“Nah. I found an interesting old book in the library earlier.”

“Really? You’re taking an interest in dusty old books now? I’d better watch out. The world is ending.”

“It’s not a dusty old book!” Spike said. Two small puffs of flame emerged from his nose to punctuate his denial. “It’s just filled with old stories that have fallen out of the culture.”

“Oh? Now that does sound interesting.”

Spike and Twilight walked up a set of stairs to the upper floor of the tower where their bedrooms were. Entering Spike’s room, he fetched a large, and very obviously old, book from his desk and gave it to Twilight. She opened it and skimmed through the pages, presumably noting the various titles and glancing at each story at her regular inequine speed.

“Spike,” Twilight began, sitting down with him on his bed, “first, are you sure you want to hear these stories? They’re pretty far afield from your usual fare.”

He wouldn’t have bothered asking if he didn’t, so Spike nodded.

“Okay. Second – well, I suppose this should’ve come first – this book is in Middle Ponish. Did you even understand it when you picked it up?”

Spike nodded again. “It’s not that bad. Besides, you can translate it as you read.”

“Well, I guess that’s true.” Twilight took a second look at the text before nodding to herself. “Third, then. Where exactly did you get this book, when, and why did you pick it up?”

“Huh? Why do you want to know?”

“Please just tell me, Spike. You’re not in any trouble. I’m sure you’ve done nothing wrong. And if you have, well, I could let it slide this time.”

A blank check like that shocked Spike and raised more than a few red flags. Twilight had few rules as a parent. Certainly far, far fewer than Aunt Cadance and Uncle Shining had for Flurry. But what ones she did have were very strictly enforced. That said, Spike rarely found cause to complain. They mostly involved obvious things like not burning down the castle and not playing with the dangerous magical artifacts she brought home.

But this book – Spike wondered what could be so important about it for Twilight to relax her discipline. Not that she would tell him if he asked. She almost never did, and she didn’t seem nearly distracted enough right now to slip over something so obvious. He would, however, have plenty of time to think about it later on his own.

“Well,” Spike began, “like I said, it was in the library. I wanted something different tonight, and that was stuffed in with all the other adventure books.”

“Do you know if this book was normally there? Or if it was shelved differently than usual?”

“Uh, can you show me the spine?” Spike glanced at the listed code and thought for a moment. A few years ago, he’d learned all of the pony-decimal system to help and impress Twilight. Even now, he licked his lips remembering the moment when she’d found out. His reward had been a jewel-encrusted jewel and an almost embarrassing amount of praise and affection. “Yeah, now that I think about it. But not by much. Maybe a few shelves over at most.”

“Thanks,” Twilight said, rubbing Spike’s head. “Now, which story do you want to hear first?”

“The one with the alicorns.” Spike nestled comfortably in between Twilight’s arms against her chest.

“All right. Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria, there were two regal sisters…”





Twilight closed the storybook and tucked Spike into bed. He’d only managed to get to the climactic battle between the sun and moon alicorns before he fell asleep, which was rather unfortunate, at least in her opinion. There was nothing worse than an unfinished story, especially one at its climax.

Even so, Twilight had no inclination to wake him up. Despite being a mere eight years younger than her, Spike was barely an elementary schooler by pony standards. A relatively mature and responsible one, sure, but he still needed his sleep.

Really, it was somewhat of a mixed blessing. Dragons aged very slowly and, as far as ponies knew, never died of old age. On one hoof, Spike’s slow aging had given her time to grow up before he did. She’d thus had the privilege to be Spike’s real mother rather than just the pony who hatched him. Her own family hadn’t been happy about that in the beginning, but she’d never regretted that decision, and she never would.

But on the other hoof, while she could easily stretch her own lifespan into Spike’s teenage years and even adulthood, Twilight only had a few centuries in her at best. It was such a tiny fraction of his life expectancy. She’d barely see a fraction of what he would do with it unless she took drastic measures. Of course, she had every intention of taking drastic measures with or without Spike to justify them, but this way she at least had an excuse if she accidentally killed herself in the attempt.

Breaking her attention away from her beloved son, Twilight teleported into the castle’s library with Spike’s book held in her magic. Tonight, she had more important things to do than wallow in such far-off concerns.

Inhaling deeply, the scent of paper and mystery greeted Twilight as she walked through the sprawling Canterlot Archives. Her worries fell away as she came home. Bookshelves towered over her endlessly into the distance, each neatly filled with rows upon rows of books. Rumor had it that the archives were truly endless in their depths. Sadly, this was not true. She’d been to every corner. The archives were simply always exactly as big as they needed to be to contain every book, journal, record, report, and newspaper within them.

Ah, Spike was right. A good story laced with secrets was just what I needed, a legitimate reason to ignore my work and put together the pieces of a puzzle. I’m getting shivers just thinking about it. Still, this is probably the most heavy-hoofed ancient puzzle I’ve ever seen. It’ll probably only be good for tonight. I mean, seriously, this is just lazy.

Twilight entered the history section and tore down the few books she knew about that covered the Discordian Era. The restricted section of the archives held a few more, but the time before and during Discord’s reign might as well not exist with how little remained of it to study.

Hey kids, let’s hear a story about two alicorn sisters. One controls the moon and the other the sun. What’s that? No, of course not. There’s no way the sun alicorn is Celestia. What would even make you think that?

Now in the section on legends and myths – disturbingly close to the history section – Twilight collected any and all books dating before the year three hundred on the modern calendar. She quickly flipped through a copy of Predictions and Prophecies, which she vaguely recalled containing a reference to the Elements of Harmony.

What’s this? A prophecy stating the moon alicorn will return in a thousand years on the summer solstice to bring about night eternal? What’s that? You want to know what year it is? Well, it’s one thousand, of course. Yes, we one-index our calendar. Yeah, the sun alicorn didn’t want to forget when her sister was due home.

Taking nearly a hundred books with her, Twilight headed toward the restricted section to start reading.

Hmm… I wonder if I should just skip this step. Dealing with evil goddesses is usually a high urgency task, and we only have a little more than two moons before the solstice.

It did seem as though Twilight could just bring her concerns straight to Celestia and start demanding answers. The story she’d read to Spike alone was filled with an egregious number of hints and clues just begging for somepony to notice. She could barely imagine a world in which it hadn’t been purposefully planted to get her attention.

But Twilight still remembered the last time she’d jumped to conclusions. It’d been nearly nine years ago now. She’d accused Cadance of being an impostor at her wedding rehearsal. In the end, it’d all come down to a confluence of issues. Twilight had barely settled into her role as the archmage at the time and had desperately needed sleep. Cadance had been stressed beyond the breaking point and experiencing mood swings. And Shining had been occupied with security arrangements. The whole family laughed about it now, but it was a hard learned lesson nonetheless. From that day on, Twilight never made any accusations without solid proof.

Heh. Oh, would I have egg on my face if I barged into Celestia’s room and discovered this was just a foals’ story after all. She would tease me about that forever. Perhaps literally, even.

But still. Just look at this story. It’s so manufactured. Twilight held up a series of books each containing the same story as it evolved over the centuries. These older versions are obviously being steered towards the one I read to Spike. They never take a step backward. They never take a step sideways. Once a change is made, it’s made.

Wow, this one even explicitly names the alicorns as Celestia and Nightmare Moon.

Oh, this one’s interesting. Discord was defeated by Celestia and her sister, Luna. With…the Elements of Harmony? That’s new. How old is this? Twilight flipped to the front page only to be disappointed. No date, eh? Well that’s fine. I can estimate when it was published based on how it compares to the other stories. Here’s one with a date that refers to a Princess Luna.

Twilight paused as a thought occurred to her. You know, now that I think of it, I always took it for granted that Celestia calling herself a diarch meant that the ponies were her co-ruler or something. That or maybe the senate. I mean, she won’t even stand to be addressed as a queen. The whole princess thing is just silly.

Well anyway, I suppose this is enough information to turn my wild accusations into regular accusations. I knew this wouldn’t take that long.

Twilight glanced at a nearby clock in the windowless room. Judging by the time, the sun should have set long ago and wouldn’t be up again for several hours, which meant Celestia was likely snoozing away to get up early to raise the sun.

Cursed short summer nights.

The fact that alicorns slept at all was intriguing, considering how little Twilight herself chose to indulge. Celestia disliked the term, but any way an unbiased pony looked at it, she was a physical goddess far beyond mortal limits. But of greater importance at the moment, Twilight had learned firsthoof that sleeping alicorns should be left as just that. No amount of friendship, or position, or urgency would change that fact. Granted she only had one data point, but she’d assumed for years that there was only one to be had. It had therefore been a proof by exhaustion that all alicorns should not be woken up early. But now, it seemed, there was a second data point to consider.

I suppose ending an evil moon goddess’s banishment early counts as waking her up. That would also be bad.

Now that she was finished with her task, Twilight paused to consider what she should do with the rest of her night. She probably should get back to her regular work as the archmage and the half-dozen other titles she held, but right now she had the perfect opportunity to remain ‘researching’ a threat to Equestria if she could find anything even marginally related.

I think I remember a scroll or two by a Luna in Celestia’s book hoard. What was it called again?

Twilight taxed her magically enhanced memory for the obscure title. She kept telling herself to spend more time with Celestia’s secret stash of books, but between Spike, her duties, and her research, she never got around to it.

Oh, yes. It was Entering the Dream Realm. That sounds very, very sinister. Yes, I’ll just have to give it a read to determine if it’s relevant or not.





Twilight glanced up from Luna’s ancient book – surprisingly a book, not a scroll – and noticed the sun had somehow risen while she’d been reading and was about to set again.

Uttering a curse upon herself, Twilight placed a bookmark and deposited Entering the Dream Realm into her subspace storage, or simply her bag of holding as it was commonly known despite the lack of any kind of bag being involved in the process. Items simply appeared from and disappeared into empty space on demand. She blamed Ogres and Oubliettes for the popular misnomer.

Of course, Twilight had no need for bookmarks, but she liked placing them all the same. There was something deeply satisfying when she looked at a stack of books and could see her progress in them all at once.

As for the book itself, Entering the Dream Realm was fascinating. Although she could imagine Luna’s writing would usually be seen as beyond salvation, Twilight felt a kindred spirit in how succinctly she phrased everything. Instruction manuals should be as short as possible without loss of clarity. Unfortunately, that level of density required a lot more effort to understand and prevented her from rocketing through the text as she normally would. She barely made it through the first three chapters in sixteen hours, and there were five more left unexplored.

There was good news, however. Luna had placed all of the critical information at the front and left all of the applications for the end. Apparently, everypony had their own special world they could enter from their dreams with enough practice. Twilight wasn’t yet sure exactly what made it so special, but she was eager to find out. The first step required her to learn to lucid dream, a task to which the entire second chapter was dedicated. It largely consisted of small habits she could incorporate into her daily life that would help her distinguish dreams from reality, little things she could do – and most assuredly intended to do – without drawing attention to herself.

About to teleport as near to Celestia’s room as she could, Twilight suddenly remembered something important she had completely forgotten.

“Spike!”

Twilight altered the destination of her teleport to her tower. Her protective wards recognized her and permitted her entry. From the kitchen, she heard Spike making supper. Based on the crackling noises, he was likely roasting something with his own fire despite her explicitly telling him not to do so at least a hundred times.

Unless he was cooking at Prince Blueblood’s manor. Then he was both permitted and encouraged.

Heading into the kitchen, Twilight came face to face with Spike holding an incriminating, smoking meal on a stick. He glanced back and forth between Twilight and a pile of similar evidence on the counter nearby.

Hesitantly, Spike held forth the latest kebab and asked, “Hungry?”

As she still felt guilty about being gone all day without a word, Twilight took the offered meal and sampled it.

“This is pretty good.”

Spike looked hopefully at Twilight.

“But you’re still in trouble.” She took a few more bites. Having absentmindedly skipped breakfast and lunch, the first bite had made her realize she was starving. “Now tell me why you’re in trouble. Again.”

“Ugh,” Spike groaned. He then droned off the mantra Twilight always hoped would one day become instinctual. “Because even if the castle is fireproof, it’s not dragonfire-proof. But–”

“And how many walls had to be rebuilt the last time the castle caught fire?”

Spike mumbled something incoherent.

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Twenty-seven,” Spike said meekly.

“And how many needed replacing anyway?”

“Argh!” Spike threw his arms up in a huff. “Negative three.”

“Right. We had to build three new walls because someone damaged the foundation.” She didn’t like being so harsh, but Twilight had learned her own hard lessons about dragonfire at his age which she didn’t want him to repeat anymore than absolutely necessary. “Now ask yourself what happens if this tower catches fire.”

“It…falls down and sets everything else on fire.”

“Exactly. Try to remember that right away next time. And no, that doesn’t mean it’s okay to roast food elsewhere in the castle without either me or Celestia supervising.”

Motioning for him to do the same, Twilight took a seat and finished off the kebab Spike had given her. She grabbed another and polished it off in the time it took Spike to get through half of one. Dragon roasted vegetables were delicious, she had to admit, and she really did need the food.

With the short down time to think, Twilight toyed with a hypothesis she’d developed years ago. Spike so rarely broke any of her other rules. Why always this one? Perhaps it was an instinct of some sort to cook with his own flame. Both of them regrettably knew far too little about dragons as they tended to be a diverse and reclusive species with whom ponies had little contact. Even Celestia, with all her experience, wasn’t much help.

Regardless, Twilight didn’t have the time to deal with this right now. She gestured to the dwindling pile of kebabs between her and Spike. “We’ll discuss this more later. I have to eat and run to catch Celestia before she goes to bed. Do you need anything before I go?”

Spike shook his head once he’d taken a few seconds to consider her question.

“All right. I’m sorry I wasn’t around at all today. I got caught up in a research project. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After a quick hug, Twilight teleported to the base of her tower’s staircase. It was a short walk from there to Celestia’s room through several wards that prevented teleportation. Unlike her tower, where anypony could come and go if one knew the correct magical key to gain access, Celestia’s room was completely locked down from everypony.

Everypony except Celestia herself. Somehow, she managed to completely ignore the teleportation blocks with a modified version of the spell. Twilight had no idea how it worked or how to cast it even after having seen it hundreds of times. All she knew was that it dissolved Celestia into light and that her mentor always evaded giving an explanation.

The former was not particularly unusual. Teleport signatures varied from pony to pony. Twilight’s own had originally been purple and red colored sparkles until she’d eliminated those defects – along with a few others – years ago.

The latter, however, was highly irregular. Celestia had only ever refused to answer two other questions Twilight had posed to her. The first was reasonably understandable. With Twilight’s parents more or less out of the picture during her early teenage years, she’d walked right up to Celestia and asked for an explanation of sex.

Apparently, centuries of life did not dull a pony’s sensitivity to the subject around curious foals.

To this day, Twilight maintained that the entire disaster hadn’t been her fault. She’d tried to find out the answer on her own, but the Canterlot Archives’ librarians had been dead set on preventing her from obtaining any relevant information. It’d clearly been a conspiracy.

The other question was perhaps worse. “Why are you the only alicorn?” In hindsight, Twilight probably should have known that would be a bad question to ask for many, many reasons, but now she knew why. Celestia was not the only alicorn.

The two royal guards posted outside Celestia’s chambers saluted Twilight as she approached.

“Is Princess Celestia in?”

“Not at this time, Archmage Twilight. She’s currently indisposed but will return within a quarter hour.”

“Very well. I shall wait inside then.”

The grand double doors parted to permit Twilight entry. The room was as sparse as usual, reflecting how rarely Celestia used it for anything other than sleeping. A huge cloud bed easily capable of fitting four ponies her size lay in the center of the room. A few other fixtures were spread here and there, most merely decorative. She stored the vast majority of her treasure hoard in the doubly restricted section of the library, which only she and Twilight had access to, in the treasury, or held securely in her own bag of holding.

Passing on the room’s relatively uncomfortable chairs, Twilight fell onto Celestia’s bed, a fluffy haven of pure delight somehow even softer yet more supportive than her own. Celestia had told her on one of the many occasions they’d slept together when she was still a filly that the cloud-walking spell would never – could never – do a cloud bed justice. One had to be a pegasus to truly appreciate them.

This was objectively nonsense. How could a pony be more relaxed than she felt right now? She’d lose herself and become a cloud if that were possible. She should prepare herself for Celestia’s arrival, but surely nopony would be hurt if she indulged herself for a few minutes.





Twilight awoke from a weird nightmare, one more surreal than scary, to the gentle nuzzles of Celestia. The alicorn lay curled up on the bed next to her and, presumably, had been the pony who’d draped a blanket over her and placed a pillow under her head.

“Mmm…” Twilight hummed drowsily, rubbing her eyes with her magic. “What are you doing here?”

“I think I could ask you the very same question. This is highly inappropriate. If you want to spend the night together, you should bring Spike with you.”

A few sleepy moments and blank stares later, Twilight realized that she’d fallen asleep in Celestia’s room rather than her own.

“Oh. That’s not why I’m here.” Although that did sound nice. It’d been some time since their last sleepover.

Celestia sighed and let her head and neck rest on her bed. “Such a shame. I miss the company.” Her horn lit up, and a framed photo floated across the room to her. It depicted a little ball of lavender fluff latched onto her in this very bed. “You were so cute when you were young. You still are, of course, but all that wide-eyed innocence is gone.”

“I’m not cute,” Twilight muttered.

“Yes you are,” Celestia insisted, unabashed. “When was the last time you slept properly?”

Twilight arched an eyebrow at the seemingly random question. Nonetheless, she pulled a watch from her bag of holding. “It’s only been twenty-eight hours. I’m still good for a while yet.”

“Your adorable little snores from only a few moments ago say otherwise.”

Twilight facehoofed. She’d tried so hard to kick the habit over the years, but it never went away. Even Spike had caught the infection.

“Spend the night, Twilight. For old times’ sake.”

“I’m not a filly anymore.”

“Of course not,” Celestia said indulgently as the words passed in one ear and out the other.

In the face of this willing ignorance, Twilight heaved an exasperated sigh. “You’re acting unusually nostalgic this evening. Something you want to tell me?”

“Nothing in particular comes to mind.”

“Really?” Twilight pressed. “Nothing at all?”

Her head cocked to the side, Celestia gave Twilight a curious look.

In response, Twilight summoned Spike’s storybook from her bag of holding. She spoke over Celestia’s surprise. “Let’s start with why you never told me about your sister, Luna. A sister, I might add, who is due to return in about two moons and who, in the very best case scenario, just wants to kill you. In the worst case scenario, she’s completely insane from a thousand years of solitary confinement in banishment and wants to destroy the world. I reluctantly admit I don’t know how long an alicorn can endure isolation, but I’d be willing to bet the crazy sets in just as quickly as it does for any other pony.”

Twilight raised a hoof to keep Celestia from interrupting. “After that you can detail your big plan to me. I know every single magical artifact in the vault by heart, and we do not have these Elements of Harmony. And don’t tell me you plan to fight your sister alone, because it sounds an awful lot like she can kick you to the curb any day of the week without them.

“And then we can discuss why you felt the need to have Spike bring this book to my attention by misshelving it instead of just talking to me directly. Oh, and don’t tell me your grand design is to let your archmage stumble onto this book, go on a random quest, and figure everything out herself, because you’ve had a thousand years to get on this.”

Thus Twilight finished her speech. Celestia had gone from smile to frown nearly instantly, but by its end she wore an expression of weary grief more than any other emotion. On her advice that this would take a while, the two mares made themselves comfortable on the bed.

“That book is easiest to explain. Or rather the story within it. To be perfectly frank,” Celestia said, “the last time I saw or even thought of it must have been…at least a century ago. However you stumbled upon it, my hoof was not at work.”

Twilight eyed Celestia suspiciously. “It would be completely in character for you to plant such a zany scheme.”

Knowing each other as well as they did, Celestia didn’t deny it. She did, however, maintain her position. “I have other plans in the works which are, as you say, in character for me. I confess to guiding the narrative of The Tale of the Royal Pony Sisters in certain directions over the centuries, but my influence ends there.”

“Let’s say I believe you.” And Twilight was leaning toward it since she didn’t see why Celestia would lie to her once called out. “That leaves me all the more concerned. Why didn’t you feel the need to talk to me about this? It’s kind of important.”

It took some more coaxing, but Celestia eventually replied, “Because I felt it best to keep you unaware of the situation.”

That stung. “Why?” Twilight asked. Her entire job description might as well read as the princess’s problem solver.

Celestia looked away and bit her lip. She then mumbled something nearly inaudible even for ponies with magically enhanced hearing.

“Please tell me you didn’t just imply some grand conspiracy to transfer power to your sister.” When no response came, Twilight lost it. “You’re kidding me! You’ve had a thousand years! A thousand! How wasn’t that long enough to think of something?”

“Do you think I’ve not tried?” Celestia fired back. “At first, I tried polishing my martial prowess. I led armies in my sister’s place. I fought on the front lines. In the end, it only brought me the ignominy of my mere presence being classified as a war crime. You know that shame yourself.”

Personally, as much as the designation frustrated her, Twilight considered it a mark of pride to be considered as much of a threat to the world as an alicorn, but she knew better than to say as such to the ‘Sun Tyrant’.

“When that failed, I slaved away guiding civilization ever forward for a thousand years. I thought if I could only advance our magical knowledge past the point of the Discordian Collapse, I would have a chance at victory. You tell me how I did there. How far short have I fallen compared to the last artifacts and ancient tomes you unearthed?”

“We still have at least a few centuries to go,” Twilight reluctantly admitted. If this Luna would sling around spells developed before Discord appeared and destroyed civilization, the best Celestia could do was match her. And even that assumed the sisters had shared whatever knowledge of the past they’d uncovered between them. “What about the Elements?”

“Useless.” Celestia looked away in shame. Before Twilight could press for more details, she continued, “I have tried, Twilight. For so long. I-” She paused to swallow and blinked oddly. “All I can do now is give Lulu what she wanted and–” She sniffed. “–and hope it will be enough. Then maybe someday we can reconcile with one another.” Reaching out with a wing, she pulled Twilight close. “When that day comes, I hope I will find you there.”

“I – what – I…” Faced with a Celestia who wasn’t a beacon of strength and certainty, Twilight’s brain threw errors at her. “No. No, you don’t get to say goodbye like this. We’re going to solve this problem together.”

Celestia pulled Twilight tighter into their hug. “Is that really how you want to spend our remaining time?”

“No.” Twilight put her hoof down, refusing to cry. “That’s how we’re going to spend the next two moons. Then we’re gonna get drunk and do something stupid to celebrate our inevitable triumph.”

With a weak yet genuine chuckle, her chest rumbling against Twilight, Celestia asked, “Have you ever once imbibed?”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

Celestia broke their hug and offered up a smile. “Now that will be a sight worth seeing. I suppose I have no choice now.”

In the back of her mind, Twilight made a mental note to first test her alcohol tolerance in private.

“What do you want to know?” Celestia asked as she recovered her natural poise.

Twilight, having spent most of her time preparing to force a confession, didn’t really have a plan yet. Nonetheless, she had a few ideas to run past Celestia. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t we know exactly when your sister’s banishment will end and where she’ll reappear at?” Getting a nod, she continued, “Is there any reason we can’t just banish your sister again? It’s not ideal, certainly, but it would buy us time.”

“Magical banishment is resistible. It requires a direct clash of power. Without the Elements of Harmony to tip the scales, in a pure numbers check like that, neither Luna nor I would emerge victorious.”

“Fair enough.” But along the same plan of attack, Twilight asked, “Can we just blast her with a sleep spell instead?”

Celestia forced a yawn. “Excuse me. I should be in bed.” Never mind that they were in bed. “It sure would be nice if somepony could help me get to sleep.”

Rolling her eyes, Twilight fired off a rapid spell to do just that for whatever demonstration Celestia had in mind. The reaction came just as quickly. Celestia channeled less than a fraction of the absurd amount of power available to her and let it radiate out from her horn. In the overwhelming flux of magic Twilight’s spell had to pass through, it denatured and fell apart.

“That was the most artless, wasteful counterspell I’ve ever seen,” Twilight flatly observed.

“While I agree,” Celestia began, “to quote Luna, ‘Hey, it worked, didn’t it?’”

Twilight facehoofed. Great, we’re dealing with a pragmatic evil goddess.

“Luna and I have dealt with more than our fair share of…shall we say, ill-advised attempts to remove us from power. Good luck slipping any lesser magics past her guard. It’s a reflex for us.”

“Point taken.” Her next idea, Twilight would rather not suggest, but it would be remiss of her not to address it with potentially the entire world’s survival at stake. “Have you considered just, well, killing her? You know, blow her away immediately upon her return? Would that even work?”

By her guilty expression, Twilight knew the thought had crossed Celestia’s mind before. “No. Destroying an alicorn is virtually impossible.”

Twilight logged that little piece of information away to store with everything else she knew about alicorns.

“Even if I had the ability to do so, which I do not, I could never bring myself to execute her. I hate that I’ve even given the notion some thought. If anypony deserves punishment, it should be me. This entire mess is my fault.”

“How so?” That sort of claim usually came from a pony blaming herself for things beyond her control.

Celestia, in all the years they’d known each other, had never looked more uncertain or uneasy. “It was no one thing,” she began slowly, each word chosen with care. “How much do you know about Discord?”

“Uh, preferred title, Spirit of Chaos and Disharmony. Once ruled and ruined the world. Defeated by you and Luna. Decorating the castle garden as a statue. Looks weird. That’s about it.”

“And King Sombra?”

“Who?”

“The Harmonic Era?”

“More than most. Less than I should.” Twilight shrugged. The time between Discord’s fall and Luna’s banishment, which she now knew marked the beginning of the Solar Era, didn’t interest her nearly as much as Pre-Discordian times. “For some unknowable reason, that period of history isn’t well documented.”

Celestia feigned offense. “Not everything is the result of my machinations!” she said, not quite able to keep the smile off her face. “We had to rebuild civilization from nothing. We had no infrastructure. We had no written language. What records we kept were for practical purposes for centuries.”

“Fine, fine,” Twilight graciously allowed. She’d managed to bring Celestia a little cheer, which was all she’d wanted anyway.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t to last. Celestia slipped back into her melancholy soon enough. She sighed as she considered where to start. Once she had, a scowl emerged upon her face. “Discord created a disgusting spell to invert a pony’s personality. He thought it was ‘funny’.”

A deep unease settled into Twilight’s chest as her mind immediately leapt to the inevitable conclusion. If an ambitious ancient king wanted to rid the world of two goddesses, what better way than to have them destroy each other? It would have to be done slowly and subtly lest the game be given away, but it could be done. The younger sister would be the easier mark. Most ponies, especially at the time, experienced some degree of nyctophobia. It would’ve been so easy to destroy the Alicorn of the Night emotionally. Throw in a little magic, and it became foal’s play.

Were she in Sombra’s place, Twilight would have done the same.

Putting that thought aside, Twilight said, “I take it King Sombra repurposed this spell and hit Luna with it to get you two to tear each other apart.”

“As astute as ever,” Celestia said. “He managed to modify the spell so that the altered personality lingered in the background, never noticed. It implanted intrusive thoughts in the victim indistinguishable from their own.”

A shiver crept through Twilight. Mind magic had its place, but she loathed its use on the unwilling. “What happened?”

“Sombra’s patience rivaled my own. He was willing to wait decades for Luna and I to fight, ever anticipating his chance to strike. I should have caught his magic at work upon her mind. She and I watched for that sort of thing in each other. But I failed her. She found it herself eventually, and we worked together to remove it.”

Celestia’s expression, which had warped between anger to self-recrimination as she spoke, finally settled on a rather sheepish blush. “She and I…overreacted. Incidentally, Sombra and the Crystal Empire are due to return to this world in a few years. The Crystal Throne rightfully belongs to Cadance’s line. Once you topple Sombra, I would advise installing her as their princess rather than her parents.”

As if that even needed to be said. However, Twilight did have one correction to make. “I can erase that blight for you, but inheritance law is none of my business. You can deal with that mess yourself.”

Celestia’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t say a word against it.

“Anyway, do continue. The more I know about how we got to this point, the better.”

“As you wish. Sombra’s magic had further reaching consequences than we expected. Luna had developed some issues, to put it mildly. We worked through them as sisters, and for a time, things were good. We ruled together, and Equestria prospered.” For a brief moment, a warm smile emerged upon Celestia’s face as she drowned in the memory of better days. Then she sobered. “But bureaucracy never sat well with Luna. As Equestria became more and more like what it is today, she and I traded more and more responsibilities until I became the face of the nation while she worked in the background and became ever more isolated.

“I thought she was happy doing what she loved. I thought I was making her happy. And maybe I was at first. But then everything went wrong so quickly. I failed to notice my sister’s paranoia resurface or her resentment grow. It was only after she spiraled out of control when I realized how bad things had become for her. So you see, Twilight, my negligence led us to this point. It was my responsibility as her sister and her fellow diarch to look after her mental well-being, especially when I knew she had a history of magically induced disorders, and yet I failed her.”

While she certainly agreed that Celestia had some of the blame pie to eat, Twilight saw no value in pointing hooves a thousand years after the fact. Lessons had been learned, and it was time to move forward. “What about the Elements of Harmony? How did they play into this?”

“Luna and I wielded them together. We each took three for our own, and although their full strength eluded our grasp, we used them to great effect. We resorted to them more often in our early years when we knew little of magic. In my fight against Luna, I was losing, and I knew it. In desperation, I took all of the Elements for myself, bent them to my will, and overpowered her. I meant to use them to heal her madness, but I should have known better. The Elements have a mind of their own. Two ponies was never enough to wield them properly. What hope did one have?”

“Interesting…” Twilight murmured. Over the course of her tenure as the archmage, she’d developed a deep mistrust of magical artifacts with any semblance of intelligence. Too many cases of magical corruption and cultists trying to bring about the end of the world or revive some ancient monstrosity. Still, if Celestia trusted them, she would too. “So what happened to the elements? I’d be hard pressed to believe you lost them.”

“I left them in the Old Castle in the Everfree Forest under heavy wards. I wanted to bring them here, but…they dislike me now. Considering their power, I felt it better for them to fall into myth and legend.”

Well that made things easy. Twilight had worried Celestia had thrown them into an ocean trench or ordered them buried in an anonymous location even she didn’t know. “All right then. I’ll go pick them up later and see if I can get them working.”

“Twilight–”

“It won’t even be a day trip, Celestia. It’s worth looking into even if nothing comes of it.”

Celestia, however, disagreed. “It’s not a matter of time. I only want to protect you.”

With a roll of her eyes, Twilight asked, “From what?” This was far from her first rodeo.

“From Luna. If you lay claim to Magic, she might feel the need to execute you.”

Twilight quirked an eyebrow. She needed a bit more explanation than that and said as such.

“Capital m, Twilight. The Element of Magic.”

“Wait, so all I have to do to get Magic to work is lay claim to it?” Celestia confirmed the conclusion, and then before she could raise any objections, Twilight continued, “Great. That’s a sixth of the job done, then. If things don’t work out, I’ll just toss it back into the forest before your sister shows up.”

“No,” Celestia stated plainly, “you won’t.” She shifted on the bed, mulling over her next words. “Bearing an Element is…personal. One does not simply toss it aside. Even a thousand years later, I remember their call.”

“Uh, no offense,” Twilight began, “but these artifacts are sounding really shady.” They had some level of intelligence, they possessed some manner of compulsion to use them, they had immense power, and they had such a pleasant name. In any other situation, she’d have already left for the Old Castle to destroy them.

Nonetheless, the comment elicited some laughter from Celestia. “They’re harmless, I assure you, when on the right end of them.”

“Right…” That didn’t exactly improve Twilight’s impression of them. “Anyway, Magic will work for me?”

“It will,” Celestia said evasively.

Twilight immediately pressed for an explanation. “What’s the catch?”

“The other five likely won’t. You would be best off looking for five other bearers, one each for Honesty, Loyalty, Kindness, Generosity, and Laughter.”

“Doesn’t sound that hard. What’s the problem?” When Celestia continued to prevaricate, Twilight interrupted. “Just say it, whatever it is. I promise not to get mad.” She could take whatever politely worded insult Celestia would no doubt throw at her.

Resigned, Celestia sighed, “Very well,” and then finally addressed the issue at hoof. “From the very moment you first came to my attention, I intended to have you bear Magic. It will leap to your call without question. Your cutie mark all but screams your destiny at anypony willing to listen.”

Twilight glanced back at her cutie mark. At its center resided the six-pointed star, the symbol of magic. Five smaller stars encircled it, likely representing the five other Elements. How thematically on point. That little revelation certainly merited further investigation at some future point in time.

“And then I erred,” Celestia continued. “If only you had been born ten years later. I never should have made you the archmage. The position only exacerbated your worst qualities. But I was selfish. When I should have sent you away to grow, I kept you close. When I realized my mistake, I had to make a decision. Should I attempt to salvage the situation, or should I enjoy what time I had left and ease the transition of power? I chose the latter.”

“That’s…” How was one meant to respond to a confession of that magnitude? “Well, uh, while your priorities flatter me, you never precisely stated what’s wrong with me.”

Rather plainly, Celestia stated, “You have no social skills.”

“That’s not true.” While she might reasonably be labeled asocial, Twilight said, “I have social skills. I’m just…selective in when and where I apply them.”

Celestia rolled her eyes.

“Why does that even matter?”

“Because the catch, as you put it, is that the Elements require their bearers to be friends to function. The closer the better.”

A pregnant silence fell between the two.

And then Twilight admitted, “I see your point.” She’d not expected such a formidable challenge as the literal power of friendship. “Surely there’s somepony else to bear Magic.”

“Yes, I admit several other choices come to mind. But I would no sooner trust them to bear it than…” Celestia, feigning defeat by her own attempt at wordplay, said, “Why, I wouldn’t trust them to do anything at all.”

“You have to be exaggerating.”

“I wish I were,” Celestia said with no small amount of exasperation in her voice. “Something about the life of a powerful mage seems to attract only hermits and ponies with an insatiable thirst for power.”

Twilight made a loud, obnoxious sucking sound. Once her lungs were full, she let out a long, refreshed, “Aaaah…”

The jest managed to get Celestia to chuckle. “You’re the exception that proves the rule. Should you gain power equivalent to an alicorn, or even beyond, I would trust you with it.”

Twilight should have had some elegant words to express her appreciation for the sentiment, but if she did, then they were eluding her completely. Instead, she hesitantly asked, “Really?”

Just as hesitantly, Celestia nodded. “I would.”

“Short temper and snap decisions included?”

“Twilight–” Celestia reached out with a wing, tentatively at first, and then affectionately gently brushed her primaries along Twilight’s jaw. “–if I could, you would need only ask, but I can’t make you an alicorn.”

Twilight’s eyes widened as her breath caught.

“Spike… He already asked. I had to wait moons before he would talk to me again.”

Finding her voice, Twilight said, “Celestia, I – that means so much to me.” If only Celestia could. “But that honestly wasn’t what I…” And then her brain finally processed the last thing Celestia had said. “Did – did he ask you that on his birthday this year?”

Celestia nodded.

“Excuse me!” This needed to be addressed immediately. If Spike was already old enough to understand such things and act on them, Twilight needed to have a heart-to-heart with him about her secret research project. And maybe Celestia, too, given the confessions she’d been making on the alicorn equivalent of her deathbed, but Spike was much higher priority.

Twilight sprang to her hooves and leapt off the bed. Her magic already had a hold on the bedroom door with intent to open it, but Celestia’s magic caught her and brought her back.

“Believe me, Twilight, you do not want to hold a conversation about mortality with your offspring in a rush of emotion.”

The words went in one ear and out the other as Twilight struggled in Celestia’s grasp and searched her memory for an appropriate spell to secure her escape without starting a fight she knew she would lose. Quickly reaching the end of that list and coming up empty, she turned her attention to–

“Twilight Sparkle. Sit and listen.”

Emitting a frightened squeak, Twilight did as commanded out of habit when Celestia released her. The Royal Canterlot Voice always meant she was in trouble. Once she had, Celestia offered her a satisfied nod.

“Calm yourself, Twilight. Remember. In and out.”

Twilight, so prompted, ran through the soothing breathing exercise Cadance had taught her as a filly. It always helped more than it had any right to.

“Better?” Celestia asked soon enough.

Twilight nodded sheepishly.

“Good. Spike will be here tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that, and so on ad infinitum. Take your time. Now what was it you wanted to ask me?”

“Oh, uh, well, I don’t understand how you manage to, you know, exist. From the amount of power you can emit, you’re too magically dense. By all rights, you should be a lump of superdense, solidified magic at best and, at worst, you should explode and take out all of Canterlot. What’s your secret?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was a higher dimensional eldritch abomination incurring upon this smaller space, thus only seeming more dense than I truly am?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Of course not.”

“Then I have no answer for you. I don’t know how to increase magical density beyond the known limits.”

“You’re no help at all,” Twilight said with the slightest hint of a pout. “Give it some thought, if you would, in your free time. I’m working on an important project that needs it.”

Although she agreed to do so, Celestia offered a warning. “I strongly suspect this will be a fruitless area of research. And I would very much prefer not to become a lab rat.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Twilight dismissed the words with a wave of her hoof. “Putting all that aside, let’s get back to the impending return of the evil moon goddess.”

At a mutter, Celestia said, “Lulu isn’t evil.”

“Uh-huh. Anyway, will you give me a few minutes to absorb everything so far?”

Getting a nod from Celestia, Twilight turned inward and divided her thoughts into the usual three strains to debate the matter before her: Advocate to suggest ideas, Opposition to tear them apart, and Overseer to keep order.

So, Overseer began, Celestia has had a thousand years to come up with solutions. Any new ones we generate either have to hinge on relatively recent information she wouldn’t have had time to dwell upon or depend on things we know or can do but not her. I leave the floor to you two.

First, let’s identify the worst case scenario, said Opposition.

Everypony dies.

Yes, that’s real creative, Advocate. Now elaborate on that.

Okay. Luna breaks free. Banishes or kills Celestia. Kills us. Subjects the world to eternal night. Freezes it. And then everypony dies. Obviously we have to intervene before the ‘kills us’ portion of that.

What options do we have available?

The Elements of Harmony.

We’re looking for alternative solutions here. If you’re not going to offer meaningful solutions we’ll replace you with a different personality.

Overseer stepped in. No personal attacks, Opposition. We’re all the same pony here.

My point still stands.

Well… Advocate paused for a moment, hesitant to even put her idea up for debate. In the end, she decided that all paths to victory were worth at least some consideration. We could always throw away our life’s ambition and use its power source to banish Luna ourselves.

Opposition immediately rallied the full force of Twilight’s unfettered enmity against the mere notion. I fundamentally object to that unless we are, or are about to be, dead. Please come up with something we won’t regret until the end of a short, miserable life.

While I agree with the sentiment, Advocate began, couldn’t we just redevelop the power source? Solidified magic can be manufactured.

Not at the rate we would need. If we lived to three hundred and shifted the entire economy of Equestria over to producing solidified magic, we might have enough to get by with two alicorns helping and whatever boost the elements provide. Needless to say, that’s a ridiculously bad plan.

All right, point taken. The next option is we take out Luna ourselves.

Celestia is our senior in combat by centuries and far more powerful. If she can’t do it, what hope do we have?

Ah, but we have one big advantage, Advocate said smugly. We’re not her sister. If we earned Luna’s trust, we could catch her by surprise.

Opposition rolled her nonexistent eyes. Do you realize how hard that would be to catch her at the level of vulnerability we’d need? We’d have to–

The details of what exactly that would require filtered through Twilight’s mind.

Absolutely not! Opposition slammed her imaginary hooves onto an equally imaginary desk. We will not marry, seduce, or otherwise engage in intimate relations with the mad moon goddess.

It was only an idea, Advocate mumbled.

The single worst idea I’ve ever heard you suggest! Why would you even–

Overseer banged a gavel and called the other two to attention. I’m ending this tangent here. Advocate, there’s a reason we outsource lipstick missions. Opposition, be nice.

With an exaggerated harrumph, Opposition nodded and turned the conversation back over to Advocate with a simple, What else do you have?

Well, there’s always Celestia’s plan. Let Luna take over. Support her reign. Minimize the damage. Celestia considers it a viable option, and she doesn’t even know we can pose a credible threat to an alicorn. If Luna can be at all reasoned with, we can keep her in check with the threat of banishment.

That’s not optimal, but it’s a decent fallback option. Other ideas?

I’m dry. Excepting getting the Elements working. We could try being…friendly.

All three imaginary personalities shuddered at once with the reaction creeping its way back into reality.

I hate you so much, Advocate. Is that really the only plan you can come up with to work on?

If I randomly think of any at some later point, I’ll let you know. But for now, yes.

Opposition sighed. All right, let’s work out the specifics.

I request more information.

Twilight broke out of her conversation with herself, merging back into one coherent pony without the illusion of multiple trains of thought. She shook off the momentary disorientation she experienced upon exiting the headspace and turned to Celestia to ask for more information about the Elements.

“What in particular do you need to know about them?”

“Well,” Twilight began, not entirely sure herself, “you said they run on friendship. That would be a good place to start. What does that mean?”

“It means precisely what you think it does. The Elements are more effective the deeper the bonds run between the bearers. Any disharmony amongst their bearers disrupts their power.”

“Right… And I really can’t just wield them all myself?”

Celestia shook her head.

“Fine.” That would have made things so much simpler, but Twilight recognized that things hadn’t worked out so well the last time somepony had tried that. “How does a pony…I believe you said ‘lay claim’ to an Element?”

“When Luna and I found them, they bonded with us when we touched them. My best guess is that they will react similarly when they meet a pony they like.” When pressed, Celestia provided the full details of her experience, but as far as Twilight could tell, there really was nothing more to it than that.

“Can the Elements not be loaned or traded?”

“They can,” Celestia replied. “At greatly reduced power.”

Of course. That would have been too easy. “How picky are the Elements for finding a pony they like?”

Celestia shrugged.

“Oh, come on. You must have some idea.”

“Forgive me, Twilight, but I fear I’ve lost their user guide.”

Twilight leveled a glare at Celestia.

“There are a few tattered records of pre-Discordian bearers in my personal collection. I can pull them for you, but the most they imply is that the bearers ‘embodied their Element’.”

“And that means…” Twilight needed to know, for example, if whoever ended up with Honesty would ruined this entire scheme if she or he uttered a single lie.

Celestia, after taking a few moments to consider her answer, said, “The key point, I suspect, is a strongly internalized preference for the Element the bearer represents. Luna could lie, and lie well, but she tended to be very direct and expressive. There are reasons she preferred to leave politics to me.” A smile escaped her with a small bout of laughter. “The two of you will either drive each other mad or get on like a house on fire. I’ve never been able to decide which.”

Twilight set that last little comment aside as irrelevant along with the reminder of her horrible, no good, very bad plan to bed and betray Luna. Instead, she said, “All right, last question for now. Define ‘friendship’.”

“Ah, a good question. I imagine any strong, positive relationship will work.”

That helped significantly. She didn’t need to make friends in the classical definition of the word. The ponies involved could be friendly rivals, lovers, student and teacher, or any such thing. Twilight gave Celestia her thanks for the answers and sunk back into her inner world of debate.

So, Advocate began, it seems the other five bearers are a relative nonissue compared to getting us to like them. Are we willing to try behavior altering spells?

No, both Opposition and Overseer said at the same time. The former then added, Besides, that would almost certainly make the elements ‘not like’ us which would ruin the whole plan.

Fair point. So the question then becomes, where can we make friends? Because it certainly isn’t Canterlot.

Nopony objected to that. While there were tolerable ponies in the capital, their density was too low to reliably find them.

Since we’re going to cobble together a group of random ponies and everypony has to like each other, it would be easiest to integrate into an already existing social…group… Advocate facehoofed as the obvious group of five came to mind. Shining, Cadance, Mom, Dad, and Spike are a solid set of five all already friendly with each other and myself. We even have an extra with little Flurry.

That’s brilliant! Opposition exclaimed, for once completely on board. Nonetheless, it was her job to poke holes in ideas. Why wouldn’t Celestia have thought of that? No, that’s not the right question. Of course she thought of that. Why does she think that won’t work? Spike’s not a pony, but again we have Flurry in the unlikely event that matters. We have six of us. I fulfill that pesky Magic role, and…oh.

You think our family isn’t good enough for the elements? How dare you, you–

Overseer banged her imaginary gavel again. I said no personal attacks. It’s not productive.

Fine. But do explain yourself, Opposition.

Look, an Element not liking somepony isn’t necessarily a bad thing. For instance, too much generosity can lead a pony and everypony they love to ruin. As for our family specifically, we don’t really have a case for them. Maybe Loyalty for Spike with our recent…revelation about him, but I think we would all like to keep Spike out of this if we can.

A general feeling of assent came from the other two before Opposition continued. We might also be able to make a case for Cadance with Kindness or Shining with Loyalty, but if we can’t get the complete set, do we really want to complicate things by involving royalty?

No, Advocate admitted. In that case, we might as well just trot around trying everypony and if an Element awakens, proceed to acquire a friend.

Opposition approved of the idea. We’ll want to minimize the work we have to do. Where can we find a large group of ponies that we can pluck out five random Element bearers and expect them to already be friends?

Are you really asking? If you phrase it like that then you should already know the answer.

The gavel came down once more. I will not have you two squabbling like that or you’ll eventually drive us insane. Advocate, it’s your job to come up with the ideas, so do it.

Advocate accepted the rebuke but rolled her eyes regardless. We go to a small town where everypony knows everypony. But large enough that introducing ourselves won’t seem like an intrusion. The closest town to the Old Castle would be…Appleloosa? No, Ponyville is closer on the other side of the Everfree. Problems?

Well…there would certainly be a different culture there than in Canterlot. Not that Opposition made that sound like a good thing. We’d at least have a chance. But farm ponies… I don’t know if we could suffer five farm ponies.

Oh, be nice. Not every pony in Ponyville is a farmer. And besides, we’ve never talked to one. Who knows? We may even decide to give up everything and live the life of a lady farmer.

Silence engulfed all three fragments of Twilight as she processed the preposterous statement her mind had generated. Then all at once, each one burst into laughter at the absurdity. She could see it now. Archmage Twilight Sparkle, the greatest spellcaster since Star Swirl the Bearded, living the life of a farmhoof.

Okay, maybe we won’t become a farmer. My point still stands. And think about it. Do we really want to go to Appleloosa? Rainbow Falls? Windsoar?

No, not at all. Especially Appleloosa. I swear, if we have to ‘round up’ one more ‘bandit’ and throw them in the ‘hoosegow’, we’re going to lose it. Ponyville is fine.

We’re in agreement, then, Overseer declared. The plan for now is to go socializing in Ponyville. She called the session to an end. In parting, she added, And as a bonus, we get to dump all of our responsibilities back onto Celestia.

Twilight recovered her sense of oneness.

“Okay, we’ve – I’ve come to a conclusion. I really wish you would have brought this to my attention years ago. It would have been much easier to make friends with more than two moons to do so.”

“Yes, I suppose it would,” Celestia said quietly. After a few moments, she caught Twilight’s gaze and held it. “Are you truly going to insist upon this folly? The world will need you when I’m gone.”

Twilight felt she should be insulted, but she couldn’t find the energy to care. “Whatever happens, I’ll be fine. I promise. I have secrets of my own, you know.”

Although her curiosity showed so plainly on her face, Celestia didn’t press for details – not yet, at least.

“Anyway, I’m going to dump all of my responsibilities onto you for the next two moons while I take a vacation. Ponyville sounds pretty nice this time of year. Maybe I’ll even make a friend or five while I’m there.”

Celestia shook with mirth at the sudden tone shift. “Very well. But if you expect me to do all of your work, you’re going to take over the Summer Sun Celebration this year.”

“That’s a perfect cover! That’ll give me a legitimate reason to be there.” Sure, it would be annoying, but it wouldn’t take too much of her time. If she sourced everything locally, then she’d even meet much of the town in the process. Now Twilight only needed to decide on what identity to assume while there. “What do you think of using Index Code for a disguise? I don’t fancy my chances if I show up and say, ‘Hey, I’m the archmage. Be my friend so we can save the world.’”

Celestia, a smile poking at the corners of her lips, considered the choice. They’d shared the identity for years, using it for administrative work outside Canterlot when they wanted peace, quiet, and anonymity. “I approve. She’s neither too young nor too old to alienate anypony, and she has enough of a presence in the bureaucracy to throw any curious ponies off your trail. Few ponies will question her appointment as the festival’s overseer.”

Twilight snickered at the word overseer.

“Did I miss a joke?”

“No, no,” Twilight replied with a wave of her hoof. “It’s just a bit of an in-joke with me, myself, and I.” And that proved too good not to laugh outright.

Although she arched an eyebrow, Celestia let the, to her, mystery pass unchallenged. “This will be a good swan song for Index, as well. We’ll need to retire her after this. Too much attention.”

However regrettable, Twilight agreed.

“When do you plan to leave?”

“I’ll retrieve the Elements today, I think, and officially leave tomorrow.” Twilight pulled her watch from her bag of holding to check the time. It was after midnight as she’d suspected. Nodding, she continued, “Then I’ll have Index leave the day after.” A big part of maintaining a cover was leaving an appropriate paper trail. “We’ll take the time before then to redistribute my work. I won’t put it all on you, for I am merciful.”

“How gracious. Do you perchance know somepony who could stand in for you in your absence?”

Well, there was one pony that came to mind. Somehow, however, Twilight suspected Celestia wouldn’t appreciate discovering that she’d been quietly and anonymously covering up a wanted criminal’s tracks for the past seven years, especially not ‘Eventide’s’.

“No, not real… Hmm…” Now that she thought about it, Twilight did know one other pony who might fit the bill. They hadn’t spoken since the last academic conference she’d had time for, but she doubted the mare had changed too much since then. “Actually, I do. An old acquaintance I met in the Archives as a filly.”

“I cannot believe my ears. Did you just suggest you’ve had a friend all these years and I never knew?”

“Oh, no need to tease. And no, not really.” A frown overtook Twilight as she tried to find the right word. “We were…library buddies?”

“Oh my!” Celestia summoned an alicorn sized paper fan from her own bag of holding and made good use of it. “Why, Twilight, for you, that sounds like a steamy romance. Such a lurid affair. Library buddies! And you met as foals? I can only imagine what experiments–”

Twilight cast a spell to silence Celestia, but she just blew it away with her fan and a rousing round of laughter.

“I would expect this from Cadance or my parents, but you?” Twilight practically growled the words at this betrayal. The grin she got in return made her reconsider if she even wanted an answer. “Never mind. I think I’m done here.” Rising to her hooves, she left the bed and then made her way to the door with indignant strides. “I’ll bring her to you later today if I can get her to agree to suffer my job. And you.”

“Please do,” Celestia said. “I’d like to meet the young mare who has my precious student all in a tizzy.”

Twilight opened the doors, shouted, “Good night!” in a huff, and then slammed them behind her. The guards on duty hurriedly moved out of her way as she fumed down the hall and teleported away the moment she crossed the edge of Celestia’s wards.
> Chapter Two - Preparations
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The world shook.





Twilight appeared in the cool night sky above Manehattan. Although the strong winds didn’t blow her around, they did bite and encourage her to finish her string of teleports. A pegasus’s natural ability to passively resist temperature extrema would be wonderful right now. It was such a hassle to cast little miscellaneous spells of the like to deal with such all the time.

Eying the city below, Twilight identified the general direction of her destination and blinked toward it, bringing her journey one step closer to completion.

Really, in some ways, pegasi had the best luck of the pony tribes. Unicorns had almost no passive magic. Everything they did required care, thought, and practice. Even the magic a unicorn naturally attuned to through their special talent tended to misbehave without discipline. In contrast, earth ponies had almost no active magic. They had to accept that their magic would do whatever it would do whenever it was supposed to do it. But pegasi? They had both. They could naturally walk on clouds just as they could throw around lightning on demand with enough training.

Twilight spotted the university campus packed into the throng of buildings. In all likelihood, she would find her substitute archmage there burning the midnight oil much as she herself did.

For the average pony, being a pegasus was probably ideal. Their magic was flexible and accessible. Twilight personally didn’t know how anypony could survive without telekinesis, but ponies got by one way or another.

Identifying the correct building on campus, Twilight teleported to its front doors. She found them unlocked despite the late hour and made her entrance. Unless the department had shuffled offices around since she last stopped by, she needed to climb up to the third floor.

All that said, unicorns had the most potential. Sure, perhaps only one in ten thousand might unlock even a fraction of it, but a unicorn could, in theory, do anything. Their horns were precision instruments meant to make magic dance to their whims. Twilight wouldn’t trade hers for anything.

The little placard beside the office door read Sorceress Moon Dancer, Professor of Ancient Magics. Her crescent moon and stars cutie mark was displayed at the end. As this was an official visit, Twilight adjusted her torc of office so that it sat centered around her neck and lay flat against her chest. A quick spell straightened her mane and tail, blown into disarray during her trip, and a second flattened her coat.

With a hoof rather than magic, Twilight knocked. She felt the curious scrying of the office’s occupant a moment later, and then the door opened. Moon Dancer sat behind her desk all but buried in a mountain of books surrounding her on all sides. Most, upon inspection, had pieces of paper covered in notes jutting out of them. It was like looking in a mirror. Take away the glasses and apply a color changing spell, and a pony would be hard pressed to tell them apart except by their cutie marks.

Moon Dancer’s eyes first met Twilight’s and then drifted downward. They stayed there a moment, absorbing what the torc meant, and then came back up. “Archmage.” The slight nod of her head in place of a bow acknowledged that this wasn’t a meeting between academic peers.

“Sorceress,” Twilight said, returning the greeting with the title appropriate to the context. She let a slight grin grow on her face. “I would apologize for the late visit, but I hardly think it necessary.”

“The night is young,” Moon Dancer replied. Her smile betrayed how well aware she was that they were the odd ponies out when it came to such matters. Her horn lit up, and she shifted around some of her piles of books to form a makeshift chair. After adding a thick quilt over the top for padding, she offered it as an alternative to standing.

Shrugging, Twilight sat. She could just pull a chair out of her bag of holding or even conjure one, but that would be rude, and there was something deeply satisfying about using books as a construction material. Perhaps when she got home she should build a book fort with Spike before she left for Ponyville.

“So what brings you here?” Moon Dancer asked, her curiosity thick in her voice.

As much as Twilight would find amusement in being completely upfront about the situation, she decided to lead into it a little. “Would you perchance have any interest in working with me and Princess Celestia on a…well, not project so much as cleaning up one of her thousand year old messes?”

The sparkle in Moon Dancer’s eyes said everything for her long before she expressed her interest with words. “Are you sure I’m qualified? I’m not really the adventuring type.”

“There won’t be any dungeon crawling or combat expected of you, I promise. To be frank, I just need you to foalsit the princess and take a bit of my work off her hooves.”

Moon Dancer had no idea how to respond to that, and it showed in the blank look on her face. She tried to form words a few times but met with little to no success on each attempt. Twilight tried her best not to laugh.

“Without throwing classified information” – as of about three seconds ago – “at you before you agree, I need to take an extended leave of absence to deal with a major threat to Equestria. You’d officially be filling in for me as the Archmage. The actual job description is considerably less than the sum total of what I do for the country. Mostly just coordinating responses to magical problems that crop up on a national scale.”

“I’m aware,” Moon Dancer managed to get out coherently. “And Princess Celestia?”

“That’s…complicated. And classified. Suffice it to say she’s going through some personal issues right now. I’d appreciate it if you kept an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t do anything too…impulsive.” If she could afford to, it was something Twilight would much prefer to do herself. Unfortunately, she imagined this Elements of Harmony business would be taking up most of her time between now and Luna’s return.

Rather hesitantly, Moon Dancer said, “I suppose I could do that.” She pushed her glasses back into proper position after all the gaping and staring she’d been doing. “How long would I be gone, and starting when?”

“I’ll be back immediately after the solstice.”

Moon Dancer paled.

Twilight swore under her breath. “You’ve read Predictions and Prophecies, haven’t you?”

“The Mare in the Moon isn’t just an old ponies’ tale?”

“‘Fraid not.”

“I’ll do it,” Moon Dancer declared. She looked nervous and a little fearful, yes, but her voice was firm.

A good mix, Twilight decided. Worried enough to take this seriously but not so much as to panic. With a nod, she said, “Welcome aboard. You should pack whatever you need and make arrangements for your absence. You can tell the administration you’ve been drafted if needed. I’ll teleport you wherever you need to go to speed things along.”

Moon Dancer nodded, grabbed quill and paper, and set to writing a letter. “Need to notify the chair, my grad students, my TAs,” she mumbled. “What about my classes? Hmm, Astral can cover them for me. What else? Need to pay the rent in advance. Utilities… Food is going to spoil… Argh, I’ll just leave my keys and a sack of bits with Daisy next door.”

Politely tuning out Moon Dancer as she spoke aloud to herself, Twilight pulled Luna’s book from her bag of holding. She had nothing better to do while waiting, after all, and Moon Dancer’s briefing would wait until they got behind privacy wards in Canterlot.





Spike awoke shortly after dawn broke. If Twilight were on her regular schedule, she would be somewhere nearby to wish him a good morning. He figured she’d still be on a research binge with that book he found, however, but it wouldn’t hurt to search the tower for her anyway. He started with the sitting room which her mess of books and spell diagrams dominated, but she wasn’t there today. Nor was she in the tower’s – for her – small library, the bathroom, or the study.

Unsurprisingly, when he checked the kitchen, he didn’t find his mother there either. She never cooked for herself if she could avoid it and had absolutely no skill in the art anyway. Not that it really mattered. The best chefs in Equestria worked day and night just downstairs. They had no dragons on staff, however, so anything Spike ordered gem encrusted tasted second rate compared to his own creations.

Grumbling about dragonfire infused gems, Spike checked the last place he expected to find Twilight. He opened the door to her bedroom and was surprised to find somepony in her bed – somepony who wasn’t her! The implications ran through his mind despite how hard he tried not to think about them.

Almost slamming the door shut but stopping at the last second, Spike ran back downstairs into the sitting room, red ear to ear. Despite growing much slower than ponies, Twilight hadn’t felt the need to keep the adult world a big mystery from him.

But beyond the awkwardness of so abruptly discovering his mother had a special somepony lay confusion and worry. She’d always been so academic and detached about the subject. Spike wasn’t sure of the details, but it’d also even become somewhat of a sticking point in her relationship with his grandparents as well. Between her disinterest and stubbornness, he’d never imagined she’d actually find a coltfriend – or marefriend, as it turned out. He’d heard stories from Flurry’s friends in school of parents getting remarried and losing interest in their children. Twilight was already overworked. Would she even remember he existed now?

Then there were the ponies who were the youngest in the family, showered with love and attention until a new foal came. Spike didn’t doubt that Twilight could find a way to have foals with another mare if she wanted, and there were certainly times when he felt the strain between them that came with being different species. This was bad. He just knew he’d be completely abandoned if he didn’t break this up now before she got attached to whoever she’d brought home.

But how to do it? Spike’s first instinct was to hatch some sort of cunning plan to drive the offender out, but he knew that would just make Twilight upset. In fact, any sort of scheme would probably just make her angry. Perhaps it would be best to just tell her how he felt. Sure, it might be awkward and make him look selfish, but honesty was a virtue.

Spike unconsciously went through the motions of making himself breakfast while he planned what to say.

Soon came the sound of hoofsteps descending the stairs. Spike braced himself. If it was Twilight, this was his chance to speak with her alone. If not…

Before Spike was ready, the source of the noise walked into kitchen. It was Twilight, except not Twilight. First off, she wouldn’t wear glasses even if she needed them unless they were some sort of magical artifact. Next, her colors were all wrong, and the stripes in her main and tail were on the wrong side. There were a few other subtle differences to spot as well if one looked hard enough.

Despite all this, Spike breathed a sigh of relief. This was just another of Twilight’s magical experiments gone wrong, he was sure. And now that the shock had settled, he knew he’d jumped to conclusions. This would hardly be the first time he’d seen her polymorphed into a different appearance or even species. And she did tend to cast and forget when her mind was occupied.

“Morning, Mom. You left an illusion or transfiguration on again.”

After the initial look of surprise faded, Twilight said, “You must be Spike. I’m Moon Dancer.”

What?

“Yes, I know I look like Twilight. I get that a lot.”

“I… Okay.” Sometimes it was best to just go with the flow, especially around Twilight. “Why are you here?”

Moon Dancer hesitated a moment, likely choosing her words with care, and said, “Your mother asked for my assistance with one of her adventures. She gave me the details here behind her wards.”

While it was unusual for Twilight to invite anypony into their home for such things, it wasn’t entirely unheard of, so Spike nodded along with the explanation. And if they’d been up as late as he expected, that also explained why she’d just given Moon Dancer her bed for the night instead of troubling the castle staff to prepare a guest room.

That was, of course, assuming Princess Celestia hadn’t put Twilight up to a very strange prank. That happened on occasion.

So like a good host, Spike offered, “Tea? Or coffee? We have orange juice, too, or we can head down to the kitchens for something else.”

“Coffee would be celestial.”

Spike nodded and went to work with a deft hand. “Word of warning if you’re gonna be working with Mom and Princess Celestia. They probably won’t show it, but they both get uncomfortable when you use her as an expression like that.”

“Oh. That’s fair. Sorry.”

Spike waved off the faux pas. He understood. Twilight was more of a peer with Princess Celestia than anypony he’d ever heard of, so the whole physical goddess thing no longer properly registered with her, but not everypony could be like that.

“Speaking of whom, Twilight said I should ask you to take me to the council chambers after I rose for a meeting with those two.”

“After breakfast,” Spike insisted.

Moon Dancer nodded. “After breakfast.”





There were only two things a pony needed to know about the Royal Guard.

First, it was a great honor to join the guard. It had an impressive history of performing great deeds and completing noble quests. Only the best of the best could hope to join, and only merit could keep a pony there. They were the shining shield who protected the princess and the flaming sword who smote her enemies.

Second, it was, by and large, a very boring profession. All of that impressive history was just that: history. The Equestrian Intelligence Service and its subdivisions had largely supplanted most of the Royal Guard’s field work over the past century, and nopony had been stupid enough to attack Princess Celestia in centuries.

There had been a brief and glorious period where the guard had worked their tails off to keep a young Twilight Sparkle safe. The poor filly had attracted enemies both foreign and domestic from all walks of life, most through no fault of her own. But as was the natural course of things, she’d come into her own and grown nearly as strong as the princess herself. The archmage required no protection.

The last time the Royal Guard had seen action, if one could call it that, was during the relatively recent ‘war’ with the Griffon Kingdom. That entire fiasco had ended within a week leaving little time for valor and a petrified world in its wake. It was what had cemented the archmage’s reputation as a force of nature if perhaps not on par with the princess then close enough as to make no difference to mere mortals.

By Celestia, she was bewitching.

“Bored?”

Flash Sentry snapped out of his thoughts with a start. Scanning the room, his gaze eventually landed on his partner. Shielded Strike eyed him with a hint of reprimand from the other side of the doors they were guarding. Guilty but not willing to admit it so easily, he asked, “What makes you say that?”

“You had that dreamy look about you again.”

With a click of his tongue, Flash said, “All right, you got me. Some days I wonder why we’re even here.”

“We keep order, Flash. That’s our job. The princess can’t be everywhere at once.”

“I suppose…” Although if anypony could be, then it would be the archmage. She probably knew a duplication spell, or a way to create golem guards, or something like that. She casually flung around spells the likes of which most unicorns could only dream of. Certainly, she–

Strike whacked Flash with the shaft of his spear. It made a loud clang against his armor and pulled him back out of his thoughts. “Dear Celestia, let her go,” Strike said. “The princess may know the name of everypony in her castle, but the archmage probably doesn’t even know you exist.”

“That’s not true. She clearly recognized me the last time she threw me out a window. I’m making progress.”

“That is the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard.” Strike shoot Flash a mixed look of pity and scorn and then shook his head. “How has Captain Armor not thrown you out by now?”

“Simple, Strike. Simple. I do my job, and that’s all he cares about.” Of course, there had been an off the books meeting in which many brotherly threats had been made. They mostly involved what the captain would do to whatever the archmage left of him if Flash ever laid a hoof on her without permission.

“Why do you even like her?” Strike asked. “I remember her as the awkward but adorable little filly with her nose forever in a book, but young blood like you has no excuse.”

Well, the easy answer was that the archmage had a natural bookish beauty about her and would probably throw herself into the bedroom with the same dedication she brought to everything else. Most recruits developed a crush to that extent before she disillusioned them with her public personality. But behind the thorns, there was so much more to discover.

“Because she’s a spiteful, dismissive, temperamental mare–”

“You know there are at best two sets of doors between her and us right now, right?”

Flash ignored the interruption. “–but beneath all that, she’s one of the most caring, dedicated, and brilliant ponies you’d ever have the pleasure to meet when amongst the people she cares about.”

“I guess I can see that,” Strike admitted. “It’s no secret she hates most everything she does for the princess.”

One of the many facts which, incidentally, made her immensely popular amongst the populace, especially those who lived outside Canterlot.

“Then there’s what she went through to adopt that fire hazard of hers,” Strike added.

Flash chuckled. Most of the old guard had a completely irrational and involuntary fear of Spike. The poor dragon didn’t deserve any of it in his opinion, but he’d heard enough exaggerated stories of dragonfire, blood, and valor from before his time not to judge.

At a whisper, Strike said, “Speak of the Nightmare, and it shall appear to you.”

Flash followed Strike’s eyes to find the dragon in question at the end of the corridor. It wasn’t unusual to bump into him. He had free run of the castle and liked to wander and chat with the ponies therein. More interestingly, however, an unfamiliar familiar unicorn walked at his side. She looked an awful lot like the archmage, but her coloring was off and she held herself all wrong.

As the pair approached the door that led to the council chambers and a number of other important rooms, Flash and Strike looked to each other uncertainly. By mutual silent agreement, they crossed their spears and barred entry.

“Err…halt?” Flash requested in what he thought was perhaps the worst example of taking initiative he had ever seen.

Spike covered his mouth with a hand, laughing. “Really, Flash? Where was the please?”

“Oh, har har. The princess and the archmage are currently in a meeting. I think.”

“This is Moon Dancer,” Spike said, gesturing towards the unicorn. “She’s Mom’s guest. I’m supposed to take her to the council chambers.”

This was a perfect opportunity to talk to the archmage, so Flash said, “I’ll go see if they’re ready for you.” As he turned in place, Flash found Strike’s spear blocking his path.

“I’ll go check,” Strike said, looking between the door, Flash, and Spike. “For many reasons.”

Flash rolled his eyes but agreed to let his shell-shocked friend run away from his fear. He then turned his attention to the new unicorn in the castle. “So, what do you do that you’ve been invited into the privy council?”

“Uh, magical research, mostly. I’m not sure how much I’m allowed to say right now.”

That was fair enough, so Flash didn’t press.

Strike came back through the doors a few moments later. “Her Highness and Her Excellency will see you now. The room you want is the third door on the left.”





The relatively small – but still large enough for Princess Celestia – and unadorned door opened to reveal the council chambers. Rather than the typical example of good taste mixed with wealth and important looking ponies going about the affairs of state Moon Dancer had come to expect from her walk through the castle, cramped described it best. Only a large round table and accompanying chairs waited inside. There were no windows, and oil lanterns cast the only light.

As Moon Dancer stepped inside, she felt as if some part of her had been wrenched away. When she tried to summon up her magic, it slipped away from her. Spike, who’d entered first, seemed unaffected, as did the two ponies at the far side of the room. Wards, she concluded. Lots and lots of wards.

“The first time is always the worst,” Twilight said as she approached. “It’s a little overkill, but there’s nowhere more secure in the entire castle. Need a hoof?”

Moon Dancer appreciated the offer but declined. Although she felt a little woozy, she steadied herself enough to at least get by. Princess Celestia approached next and inspected her with a critical eye. It bore the weight of centuries and made her breath freeze under its intensity.

And then Princess Celestia let out a distinctly amused snort. “Twilight, you narcissist.” She shook her head with a warm smile. “Good morning, Moon Dancer. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to getting to know you. This is the first time Twilight has brought home a friend.”

When Moon Dancer realized that it’d become expected for her to reply, she started and nearly squeaked. Then she pushed her glasses back into place. “Y-yes, Your Highness. Good morning.”

“Would you indulge an old mare’s curiosity and share how you and Twilight met? She only informed me that you were ‘library buddies’.”

“Old? I – well, yes.” That was an accurate enough way to put it. They were more occasional colleagues now than anything, but it got the point across. “We bumped into each other in the Canterlot Archives when we were young. Literally. We, uh…” Moon Dancer fought not to blush. “With our resemblance, we may have leapt to an incorrect conclusion or two at first.”

In the background, Twilight vigorously indicated that Moon Dancer should stop talking, but the damage had already been done. Princess Celestia shifted the focus of her attention to Twilight and, with the tone of a mare who’d just been given ammunition, said, “Oh really?”

Twilight cleared her throat and pointedly ignored her princess. “Now that we’re all here, we should get started. Moon Dancer, take whatever place you want.” She moved off at a pace slightly faster than a walk but not quite a trot and took the chair to the right of the oversized one clearly reserved for Princess Celestia.

Meanwhile, the princess said, “Some other time.” She winked and then went to join Twilight.

By this time, Spike had already found a place beside his mother. Moon Dancer, not really wanting to walk much under the current wards, took a nearby chair across from the trio.

“Now then,” Twilight said, “before we begin, welcome to the Chambers of the Privy Council™, where most matters of policy are decided.”

Moon Dancer’s ears stood fully erect, trying to decide whether the strange not-quite-sound they’d heard was real. As Princess Celestia brought a hoof to her head and sighed, something must have happened.

“What was that…” The appropriate word eluded Moon Dancer.

“Must you do this with every guest?” Princess Celestia asked.

Twilight shot the princess a look that spoke of some sort of revenge. “Of course I must. It is the name of this room, after all.”

“To answer your question,” Princess Celestia said, paying Twilight no mind for the moment, “What you heard was the result of a joke spell I created centuries ago and cast upon the world. Twilight heard it once and begged for days for me to teach it to her. She put the enchantment on no less than four phrases before I told her to stop.”

Moon Dancer looked between Twilight, who seemed both unaccountably proud and unashamed, and Princess Celestia, who just appeared abashed. “So you mean, anytime anypony anywhere says any specific sequence of words…”

“The phrase gets an inaudible yet perceptible trademark added to the end of it. The magic is so comprehensive, it works even in here. It was both my and Twilight’s first experience with world magic. My own casting of the spell was on the phrase the Hoarded Lore of Celestia Herself™. I was…a younger pony at the time.”

“Not that young,” Twilight mumbled just loud enough for everypony to hear.

Princess Celestia casually pushed Twilight off balance with a wing, almost resulting in her chair toppling over and her falling to the ground. Spike laughed, and despite both herself and the titanic presences in the room with her, a few silent laughs escaped Moon Dancer at their antics as well. Was this what Princess Celestia was like behind closed doors, or was she just trying to make her guest feel comfortable?

More importantly, Moon Dancer asked, “How does it work?” She’d never heard of world magic before despite all of her studies. It must be something understandably kept hidden from the public. She could only imagine the level of chaos this sort of spellwork would unleash upon the world if left unchecked.

“Ah, I should have expected as much from Twilight’s friend,” Princess Celestia said, eyes shining. “This is perfect. She rarely lets me be a proper teacher anymore. To begin with–”

“It draws power from the world’s ambient magic like many public works, only on a larger scale,” Twilight interrupted, drawing frowns from her fellow academics and a thankful look from Spike. “It’s finicky, complicated, and my time is extremely valuable right now. Perhaps you two can discuss this later?”

However irritating, Moon Dancer admitted Twilight had a point. Princess Celestia relented as well.

“Excellent. Now then, I’ve already informed you of the broad strokes of where and what I’ll be doing. The purpose of this meeting is to divvy up my regular work between you two. Spike, are you okay with taking notes for us?”

Since Spike already had a quill twirling about in his dexterous claws with paper at the ready, it surprised nopony when he agreed to do so. It seemed a little odd to read him in on a bunch of likely classified information for the purpose, but then Twilight hadn’t exactly kept anything under lock and key in her tower. He probably stumbled upon a half-dozen national secrets before breakfast most days.

Regardless, they went forward with the rather tedious bureaucratic task.





It was midday when Twilight appeared south of the most dangerous location in Equestria, if not the entire world. The twisted, chaotic magic that surged through the Everfree Forest scorched her horn even from where she stood nearly a kilometer away as it ate away at the lingering magic of her teleport. The enchantments she always kept active upon herself began malfunctioning, forcing her to dispel them before they could fail spectacularly. With no further spells under her control nor artifacts in her possession, the wrath of the forest receded. It didn’t vanish but instead stood waiting and watching for the slightest hint of magic to lash out against.

This was the reason the Everfree Forest struck fear into the hearts of nearly every single being on Equus. Magic could be used within it with great difficulty, but there was no telling what the forest would morph the magic into. Simple telekinesis was as likely to summon a glass of water as it was to turn the caster into a penguin or simply explode.

And it wasn’t just unicorns who had trouble. Pegasi couldn’t fly reliably or even stand on a cloud near the Everfree. Earth ponies had it the worst. Unable to turn off their magic in its entirety, the forest would slowly tear them apart until there was nothing left but carrion for the predatory species born in the chaos.

But there was one major exception: the Elements of Harmony. They brought order from chaos, harmony from discord. Once Twilight reached the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters, she would have her magic back. The cost, of course, would be facing off against the protections Celestia had laid down there centuries ago. There were no quick ways to nor from the castle for anypony except her. If only the Elements didn’t hate her, then she could have picked them up herself in less than the time it took to invoke her name. Perhaps it would have been a better idea to send her in first to disable the wards – that would allow Twilight to teleport in after – but it would take longer, and time was more important right now than inconvenience.

Thus it was with great trepidation that Twilight Sparkle, the archmage who lived and breathed magic, ventured into the Everfree.

The old highway from the southern reaches of Equestria to the Old Castle through the forest still existed. The brick road cut a wide path through the trees. Not even a single blade of grass had managed to split the stonework over the past thousand years. Despite the ravages of time and the chaotic magic of the forest, it endured and protected. On the path, at least, the forest’s wrath retreated – not vanished, but lay lingering in wait for its next meal.

How curious. This road seems to have acquired a mild anti-magic field of some sort. That’s not unheard of, but they’re not supposed to be stable enough to last days, much less centuries. Hmm… I probably can’t teleport these bricks, unfortunately. I’ll have to come back later for a sample to study and have it physically shipped to Canterlot.

Twilight briefly wondered if she could replicate and amplify an anti-magic field on command. She wouldn’t need to faff about with the Elements of Harmony if it were possible. But then she supposed that if it were that easy, Celestia would have thought of it ages ago. Still, she made a mental note to mention it when she stopped by Canterlot later and then pressed on deeper into the Everfree.

Fortunately, and somewhat surprisingly, the journey was relatively peaceful. It seemed, from the lack of any of the usual signs, that the forest’s fauna didn’t normally approach the road. While she wasn’t completely helpless without magic, Twilight doubted she could win a scuffle with anything bigger than a timberwolf and didn’t relish the thought of a long gallop to escape.

That said, it still was a long trot to the Old Castle. Twilight was in better shape than most bookworms, so she made reasonable time, but she didn’t possess even half of her brother’s stamina, that fitness junkie. By the time she reached the stone arch bridge that signaled the beginning of the end of her journey, she wanted to curl up and die.

In fact, getting through the wards at the Old Castle would require her legs to stop shaking when she stood still, so Twilight thought better of pressing on just yet. She found a comfortable looking tree adjacent to the road to lean against and slumped over onto the ground.

“Urgh… How do ponies live without enhancement enchantments?”

Probably the same way they live without being able to reshape reality whenever they so much as mildly object to it.

“Savages.”

Twilight chuckled as she fought against the urge to nod off in a dangerous forest filled with pony eating predators. Maybe she should have gotten a full night’s rest before attempting this trip. Without magic, the denial of her body’s natural biorhythm was starting to catch up with her.

Once her hooves stopped screaming in protest, Twilight stretched, rose, stretched again, and then carried on with the last leg of her journey. Cresting a hill not far past the bridge, she finally saw her destination.

The Old Castle was a magnificent structure, remarkably well preserved even after more than half of its towers had collapsed in on itself. Time hadn’t been kind, but neither had it been brutal. Unlike the road, the forest had made some inroads into the masonry here. There was an abrupt and obvious line where the wards began and the reclamation ended, but it was progress of sorts nonetheless.

Twilight approached the castle’s main gate, a massive portal long since deprived of a door. The moment she stepped over the ward line, the eager hunger of the forest fell away without a trace – the influence of the Elements at work, no doubt. The prickling of her horn ceased, and her magic flowed through her without fear once more. And, of course, the wards studied her, wary but not yet hostile. They would give her a chance to prove herself a friend. If she failed, they would reprimand her and send her on her way. If she persisted, then they became dangerous.

Celestia had mentioned fire and acid as the lesser perils and worked her way up to esoteric dimensional magic which she’d simply described as ‘enough’ when explaining what it did. Twilight hadn’t inquired further. She was, after all, a friend. The wards wouldn’t hurt her provided she gave them no reason to.

Right, then. Let’s do this.

With all of the instructions Celestia had given her held at the forefront of her mind, Twilight stepped forward into the castle. From her horn, she radiated a useless spellform that flagged her as friendly. She moved through the castle with specific gestures and steps, careful not to deviate. When required, she gave a verbal password or altered the magic she held about her to conform to some new requirement. She silently cursed Celestia when forced to recite a nonsense song in Old Ponish. There were reasons she didn’t sing except when caught up in a heartsong, and she was very glad nopony was around to hear them.

It was altogether a different experience than the norm for her. Twilight’s usual approach to problematic ward systems was to carefully unravel or outright smash them. Infiltration wasn’t part of her job description. She had ponies for that. Well, not ponies, exactly, but the point was she’d gone out of her way specifically so she didn’t have to do this sort of thing herself.

It was only once Twilight reached the throne room that the wards relented in their examination of her. Finally accepted and allowed to act as she saw fit, she quickly recast a few of her more useful enchantments upon herself and then took a look around.

Of all the corridors, halls, and chambers she’d passed through on her way here, the throne room was by far the most intact. Scattered fallen bricks littered the floor and let in beams of light, but no gaping holes marred the ceiling or walls. The windows, preserved by magic, were merely broken instead of missing. Although they no longer functioned as intended, the doors remained on their hinges. Many of the tapestries, even, had survived the centuries almost entirely intact and still hung from the walls.

At the far side of the hall stood two alicorn sized thrones, one with a solar motif and the other with a lunar design. In front of the thrones in the center of the chamber stood a large pedestal with five outcroppings. Upon each rested a gray sphere approximately as wide as Twilight. Atop the pedestal itself at the center, a larger stone sphere lay in wait. As Celestia had promised, these were the Elements of Harmony.

And Twilight felt the call of Magic. It was the allure of power. It was the soft song humming beneath her thoughts. It was the potential for new love. It was the promise of reunion with a long lost friend. It was all these things at once and more.

Twilight suddenly froze halfway to Magic. Her eyes snapped open, and she took deep breaths slowly one after another as she beat back the call and reclaimed full control. It helped to avert her eyes, but the temptation lingered no matter what she did.

“What the hay!” That’s…not normal. Compulsions on cursed artifacts had never been that intrusive to Twilight nor as subtle yet blatant. And Celestia doesn’t think these things are evil? I mean, I guess she and Luna bore them for centuries without ill effect, but yeesh.

With a wary and suspicious eye, Twilight approached the Elements. She plucked the nearest from the pedestal with her magic to get a better look at it. Upon closer inspection, the sphere was hollow and had a few glassy openings that allowed her to see inside. After shifting it around, she identified a dull blue gemstone with a simple cut suspended in the center and oriented upright with respect to the sphere’s frame of reference rather than the world’s.

Twilight glanced back up at the outcropping she’d taken the Element from. In Old Ponish was inscribed an approximate translation for Laughter. She quickly conjured some paper, wrapped it around the Element, and labeled it appropriately before stuffing it away in her recast and otherwise empty bag of holding.

Going from Element to Element, Twilight repeated the process. Each held a similar cut but a distinct color. They were all obviously magical, but none particularly radiated power the way she’d expected of something that could strike down a goddess. Perhaps they were merely the interface to a greater system and had an external power supply which they tapped into when needed. It bore looking into once the Luna situation was resolved one way or another.

Right. Now all that’s left is you. Twilight levitated Magic down to her. With the proximity and her magic on it, the call grew in strength. It was to be hers anyway, she figured, so she might as well get it over with. She reached out with a hoof and touched the sphere.

“Argh!”

Twilight threw an arm over her eyes to shield herself. Magic shone with a blinding light like a star descended to Equus. When it finally faded, she blinked. The spots slowly cleared from her vision. Looking down, she found the Element she’d dropped. The stone encasing was gone, but Magic had transformed into a tiara with a six-pointed star inlaid as its centerpiece in the exact shape and shade of pink as her cutie mark.

“Well, that was…unexpected.” Twilight floated the tiara up to eye level and narrowed her eyes at it. It was hers. She felt that with every part of her being. Why are you a crown? You weren’t a crown five seconds ago. Wearing you in public is going to be so…troublesome. It would be a lie to say she didn’t understand the symbolism. She didn’t want Celestia’s job or to be a princess. That wasn’t at all what it was about. But it was the meaning most ponies would take away.

Sighing, Twilight floated the tiara up onto her head. Immediately, all other thoughts fled her as a rush of power flowed from it down to her every extremity. Her magic bubbled up inside her, eager and ready to leap to her command. The sudden flux of energy left her giddy and giggling.

This… Wow! This is – I – I can’t – this is amazing! At a rough guess, Twilight felt an order of magnitude more powerful. There was so much she could do with the absurd amount of magic she had at the tip of her horn. She could–

No, bad Twilight, she scolded herself. There were more important things that needed doing than indulging her own desires. You have an insane, evil goddess to deal with. That must take priority.

But regardless of what she did next, Twilight needed to get out of the Everfree. She strolled out of the castle without a care. Even if the wards hadn’t accepted her presence, she hardly cared. She felt capable of smacking them down if they lashed out at her. Impulsive, she knew, but so what?

As soon as she’d walked far enough to remove the Old Castle from the Elements’ protection, a harsh whine and crackle filled the air. The forest had set in on the wards, eager for the feast. Parts of the castle crumbled away as their magic finally failed, leaving the once magnificent structure the ruin it should have always been. Soon enough, the forest fell silent once more.

But that did give Twilight an idea. She had the protection of the Elements. She had the power.

Experimentally, she teleported a stick at her hooves a short distance away from her. It came out the other end unharmed. She repeated the feat, this time teleporting a large branch from the castle to the forest outside the influence of the Elements. A little vision sharpening spell let her see that it’d arrived at its destination unharmed. Trying to teleport it back resulted in it remaining where it was but now distinctly made of cotton candy, but that had just been a mild curiosity. Her first two experiments told her everything she needed to know.

Twilight built up power in her horn, sheer raw power on a scale she’d never had to manage internally before. Sparks of solidified magic flew off from her control as the aura surrounding her horn grew ever brighter. Perhaps not as slowly or carefully as she should have, she forged the magic into a teleport and, with unrestrained glee, made the journey out of the forest back to Canterlot in a single jump.





Moon Dancer sat across from Princess Celestia at a table overloaded with paperwork. The princess and the archmage had rescheduled all of their individual meetings for the next couple days to ease the transition for Moon Dancer, something she was very grateful for, but the paperwork they would be working on instead was nearly as dreadfully tedious as writing a grant application.

More importantly, she was working with Princess Celestia! Most ponies never had so much as the opportunity to speak with her, and yet here Moon Dancer was getting a peek behind the veil. Even with all the work they had to do, she barely resisted the temptation to bombard the princess with questions ranging from magic to history.

As the day dragged on, Moon Dancer found more and more that Princess Celestia wasn’t what most ponies expected. Was she intelligent? Of course. Did she have hundreds of lifetimes of experience dwarfing Moon Dancer’s own? Absolutely. Would a poet describe her as beautiful? By definition. Had she the grace and sophistication expected of a sovereign? Without question.

But behind closed doors, the veneer of the perfect princess peeled away. While none of the aforementioned traits left her, Princess Celestia complained, chatted, joked, and gossiped in her own way just like any other pony. Perhaps this was just another mask, her true face reserved only for her beloved pupil, but to Moon Dancer, it felt more genuine.

And with it came an endless stream of embarrassing stories about Twilight.

“It may surprise you to discover that she never completed magic kindergarten.”

“No way,” Moon Dancer said in pure disbelief.

Nonetheless, Princess Celestia persisted with a solemn air about her. “It’s true. She was expelled and never reentered the education system.”

“I don’t believe it. How does the archmage – no, any pony get themselves expelled from magic kindergarten?”

The quill held in Princess Celestia’s magic paused in its writing to tap in place. After a few moments’ thought, she answered the question. “Twilight learned a valuable lesson about escalation. I think it best not to say more than that.”

Well, that doesn’t sound ominous. Moon Dancer knew not to push, however. Instead, she asked, “How does that tie in to her, eh, indiscretion I witnessed in the Archives?”

Princess Celestia chuckled. “What does a teacher do to a pony who fails in school?”

That had never been a concern on Moon Dancer’s radar, so it took her a few moments to come up with an actual answer. Once she did, however, she understood where this story was headed. “Send them back a grade?”

“Precisely. And what was the last grade she attended?”

A snicker slipped past Moon Dancer’s lips. “Did she really think you were going to send her back to magic kindergarten?” She and Twilight had been in their late teens at the time.

“Nopony questions that Twilight is one of Equestria’s brightest minds, but there are times when one recalls that the line between genius and madness is often thin and easily crossed.”

This was, perhaps, not the best moment for Twilight to appear without warning, laughing maniacally, from a teleport that had enough power behind it to cross half the country. The thunderclap that announced her presence to anypony magically blind blew paperwork everywhere until Princess Celestia caught them all and held them in place. The purple and red sparkles, Moon Dancer presumed, were her teleport signature, which meant that it hadn’t been executed with her usual level of expertise.

Oh, and at some point she’d acquired a crown, which was a separate issue entirely.

A very interesting crown, actually. It would certainly be worth a closer look sometime soon.

“Is she okay?” Moon Dancer asked. “She seems a bit…”

Twilight spun in place and thrust a hoof in Moon Dancer’s direction. “I’ll have you know I’m perfectly in control.” She lowered the hoof. “At any rate, mission accomplished. You’re looking at the proud new bearer of Magic. All hail.”

Eyes drawn back up to the crown – not that they’d left it for long – Moon Dancer understood what she was looking at now. She’d expected something less ostentatious than a jewel-studded, glittering golden tiara, but ancient magical artifacts of untold power would do what they wanted.

Apparently amused by Twilight’s antics, Princess Celestia echoed, “All hail.”

Twilight nodded at the ‘proper’ show of respect. “Question. Magic is an additive boost, right?”

A small collection of documents appeared nearby Princess Celestia. She passed them off from her magic to Twilight’s. “I’ve taken the liberty of writing down everything I know about each Element’s powers for you.”

Twilight flipped through papers until she found the one she wanted. A few moments later, she nodded, satisfied. “Right, so Luna kicked your flank to the curb fair and square. I’m not dealing with somepony so skilled she can win a fight drastically outside her weight class. Good.” She tossed the documents aside, and they vanished as they fell.

A part of Moon Dancer was jealous of the casual indifference with which both the princess and Twilight used subspace storage. She could cast the spell, sure, but she couldn’t put much into it. Those two, on the other hoof, used it for anything and everything they wanted. It must be nice to have the strength required to toss around magic like that. Maybe if she had Magic, she could–

Twilight performed the magical equivalent of a slap and knocked Moon Dancer’s telekinetic grip from Magic. She spun with a glare and looked about to utter some biting words when she suddenly stopped. Her brows furrowed. She stepped to the left and then to the right. And then, after whatever that had been, she spun on the princess with a cry of, “Celestia!” She thrust her hoof out back at Moon Dancer. “Just look at her. She obviously feels the call.”

“You never told me you had a clone!” Princess Celestia protested.

“Well, can I pass it off to her? She’d be better at this than me. I think.”

“The only way I know how to unbond with an Element would involve fighting your brother to the death.”

“Hmm… Maybe if I only thought that’s what I was doing?”

Moon Dancer loudly cleared her throat to get their attention before they devolved into a royal spat. When they looked her way, she asked, “What exactly are you talking about?” It apparently involved her, so she felt she deserved to know.

With a sigh, Twilight pointed to her crown. “You want this, don’t you? Your eyes are drawn to it whenever your attention wanders, aren’t they? You feel it. The call. If I hadn’t gotten to it first, Magic could have been yours.”

“Oh.” She tried to imagine it. Moon Dancer, hero of Equestria. She’d wander the land solving problems, averting disasters, and generally putting things to rights. It was the life Twilight lived. It certainly had its appeal, but it wasn’t her life. Her adventures were best experienced via text. “Well, this is probably for the best. I prefer the support role to the front lines.”

Even so, it was an awfully nice crown…

With that out of the way, Twilight said, “All right, I should head out. I need to get to Haywaii and back.”

“One more thing,” Princess Celestia said. She pulled another pile of papers from her subspace storage. “This is the spellwork I intended to lay over where Luna should return to when her banishment expires. Would you optimize it for me? I recall you’ve been dabbling in dense magic.”

A significant look passed between the princess and her archmage, although Moon Dancer lacked the context to understand what it meant.

“Sure.” Twilight took the papers and stored them away. “I’ll give it a look and see how many more spells we can cram in there. I assume this is just to slow Luna down while we fire up the Elements?”

Princess Celestia shrugged. “If it works, wonderful. If not, then perhaps the second it buys you will make the difference.”

“Fair enough. I’ll be off, then. Later.”

As Twilight lit her horn, a teleport spell building in power frighteningly quickly, Princess Celestia called for her to wait with a distinctly parental edge to her voice. It reminded Moon Dancer of her own mother’s gentle exasperation when she would track mud into the house the day after a storm, blind to the world with her nose in a book.

“Yes?”

“Magic,” Princess Celestia said simply. “Recall that I will need it to ward off the deleterious effects of the Everfree Forest.”

The stricken look on Twilight’s face said everything for her.

Princess Celestia adopted a sad smile. Softly, she said, “Not so easy to toss it back into the forest, is it?”

Judging by Twilight’s reaction, she must have made some claim to that effect. She only proved the princess’s point when she said, “I think I’ll just hold on to it for a little longer. You don’t need it for a while, and it’ll speed up my trip to Haywaii. Later.”

Unlike her entrance, Twilight vanished with a short range teleport and no doubt made her escape good with a longer one thereafter.

“Well, that happened,” Moon Dancer observed. She felt like she should have something smart to say, but she had nothing. At least Magic was gone. She only now realized how distracting it had been for her.

“Yes,” Princess Celestia agreed. “I apologize for her shortness. She seems to be on a power high. It should wear off when she acclimates to Magic.”

That was understandable. Moon Dancer had heard of far worse reactions to donning ancient magical artifacts. Even so, she asked, “Should we be worried? I mean, is she dangerous right now?”

“Less so than normal, I should think. She may be more inclined to turn somepony into a smear on the wall on impulse or ruffle some feathers, but a clouded mind dulls her wit, which is the true source of her power.”

Rather flatly, Moon Dancer said, “Your Highness, forgive me, but I think you may be evaluating maxima instead of integrating.”

That elicited a titter from Princess Celestia. “I may also be watching over her. If need be, I will intervene.”

“Oh.” I guess that works. And now that she really looked, Moon Dancer did see a very faint glow at the tip of Princess Celestia’s horn. “Is she always so troublesome?” The past day had offered her a very different look at her sometimes colleague.

With no hesitation, Princess Celestia replied, “I sometimes suspect her greatest delight in life is found in causing me headaches. I’m very lucky to have her.”

Moon Dancer raised her eyebrows at the contradictory statements, but Princess Celestia seemed too lost in some happy memory to take notice.

“Have you heard what happened when I made the mistake of asking her to hold court for me?”





Twilight appeared outside Shining and Cadance’s home in the upper reaches of Canterlot. It wasn’t exactly the cleanest getaway, but if Celestia wanted Magic, she could pry it from Twilight’s cold, dead hooves – or at least wait a few more hours.

At any rate, Twilight’s brother and sister-in-law lived in a large house overlooking the city that might charitably be called a small manor. In the power struggle between their own preferences and Cadance’s parents’ delicate sensibilities, this had been the result. It offered them the retreat they’d wanted from public life to raise a family in private while still remaining an overt display of wealth and fashionable modesty.

With a nod to the guards posted at the gate – one of the many inescapable trappings of belonging to the extended royal family – Twilight entered the grounds. She walked through the garden Cadance maintained as a hobby and made her way to the front door. As she raised her hoof to knock, however, it swung open to reveal an enthusiastic pink blur on the other side. Cadance swept her up into a tight embrace involving both wings and hooves.

Once the more commonplace greetings were out of the way, Cadance released Twilight. Smiling, she said, “And here Shining and I thought you weren’t going to stop by before you left. Spike told us you were heading out of town until the solstice.”

“Oh, he has, has he?”

“Go easy on him, Twi. We already scolded him for it. Flurry, too, for pressing.”

Twilight arched an eyebrow at Cadance and stared silently at her.

“We did.”

Unmoved, Twilight made no response.

Already cracking, Cadance amended her testimony to, “A little bit.”

Twilight remained unconvinced.

“Okay, barely at all,” Cadance finally confessed. “But we’re family. And royalty. And you don’t exactly set the best example for him yourself. How much classified information do you leave sitting around your tower?”

In her victory, Twilight allowed that as a fair point. “Relax, Cadance,” she said. “I’m not mad. I planned to tell you anyway, but–” Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her prey spying on her from behind a hedge. “One moment, please. I need to remind the foals of the importance of information control.”

Twilight jerked her head toward Spike and Flurry, her gaze falling right on them. They froze in place, and she used all of her years of motherly experience to silently convey that they were in trouble.

The pair fled in a panicked haste.

With a sigh, Cadance said, “I’ll meet you in the conservatory when you’re done. Please don’t tear up my garden.”

“You did ask me to go easy on them,” Twilight said, stretching and cracking her joints. After her miserable journey through the Everfree, she was going to enjoy moving again as magic intended. “Wanna bet how long they’ll last?”

“However long you intend to play with them.”

Twilight’s smile turned predatory. “You know me too well.”

And with that, Twilight leapt into pursuit.





“Run!” Flurry whispered. “Run! Run! Run!”

Intellectually, Spike saw no point in trying to flee or hide from his mother when their capture was inevitable, but that wasn’t the part of his head he was listening to right now. Using their small size to their advantage, they cut through the hedges, ducking and weaving through narrow openings Twilight couldn’t easily follow through. They kept away from wide open spaces that would allow her to teleport on top of them, and surprisingly, they hadn’t seen a trace of her on their tail. Perhaps she’d decided not to pursue them.

But then they heard the characteristic crackle of a magical discharge. That only happened when a unicorn put far too much power into a spell, and by how loud it sounded, there was only one unicorn around with that much magic to burn on a whim.

They were so doomed.

“Come on!” Flurry said. She grabbed Spike’s arm with one of her own and pulled him back into a sprint. “We’ll lose her at the drop off. She can’t fly.”

Spike opened his mouth to correct that misconception but snapped it shut when he saw a lavender blur appear from around a corner in the distance. It bounced off a magical shield, redirecting its momentum in their general direction.

They were so doomed, but he hardly had a better idea.

Together, they moved forward in stealth but haste while Twilight searched every possible hiding spot behind them. The longer she spent at it, the more she zeroed in on the trail they’d left.

All they had left was one last sprint to the cliffside. Spike eyed the open field warily.

“She’s going to catch us if we try to make it.”

“Just go,” Flurry insisted. “As fast as you can. Jump, and I’ll catch you. I promise.”

It was a bold plan. Perhaps too bold. But what was the worst that could happen? Even if Flurry didn’t catch him, Spike would be fine. It was only a few stories down, and Dragons were tough.

“Right… On the count of three, then.” Spike put one foot forward, ready to dash, as Flurry prepared to take flight. “One. Two. Three!”

Without looking back, they burst forward. Spike ran for the edge, cursing his short, stubby legs. Flurry flew up, preparing to gain speed with a sharp dive. Much to his surprise, he managed to make it over the cliff without being snagged with telekinesis or otherwise detained. Flurry caught him as promised only a second into his fall, and they were off into the skies above Canterlot.

Spike twisted his head to look behind them. Sure enough, Twilight leapt off the cliff much as he had only with far more speed and height. At the apex of her arc, large butterfly wings sprouted from her back and sustained her flight.

“Uh, Flurry, we have a problem.”

The moment Flurry turned to look, she muttered, “Ponyfeathers.” With some careful aerial acrobatics, she managed to spin Spike around without dropping him. “Aim for the wings, fire lizard!”

Spike snorted. It wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever heard, but hocking fireballs mid-flight wasn’t exactly something he had practice at. Still, he could try. He built up some flame.

And then all three of them were back on the ground just outside Flurry’s home. Twilight glared down at him, wings banished, and commanded, “Swallow it.”

Spike did as ordered.

“There is a time and a place for that sort of game,” Twilight continued, “and just above a densely populated city is not one of them without extenuating circumstances. Understood?”

Spike nodded.

When Twilight’s gaze shifted to Flurry, she nodded too.

“Good.” Her expression softening, Twilight added, “But you had the right idea. My wings were held together with water and magic. Dragonfire would have evaporated the former and burned away the latter. Now then” – her eyes narrowed on Spike once more, not angrily, just with disappointment – “how much did you spill about where I’ll be and what I’ll be doing?”

Yep, busted. As there was no avoiding it, Spike admitted, “Just the basics.” He didn’t really know the details, although he could probably give a good guess.

“And you, Princess?”

Flurry winced at the title as much as the disappointed tone.

“Cadance mentioned some prying.”

“I guess…” Flurry looked away and rubbed a hoof along its opposite arm.

“Then you both know what you did wrong, yes?”

“Yes, Mom,” Spike said in time with Flurry’s, “Yes, Aunt Twilight.”

Bending at the knees to be at eye level, Twilight asked, “Then I can trust you both to keep what information you do have to yourselves?”

Spike nodded. He wouldn’t have told anypony else but family anyway.

Beside him, Flurry promised to keep silent.

“Wonderful. I really didn’t want to erase your memories or bind your tongues.”

Spike rolled his eyes even as Flurry emitted a high-pitched eep he wasn’t sure ponies could even hear. Twilight could do that, but he knew she wouldn’t on family.

“Now run along, you two. I need to speak with Cadance. Spike, I plan to leave you under her supervision while I’m gone. Be good for her, okay?”

Once he agreed, Twilight pulled Spike in for a short hug goodbye. When they parted, she went inside the house and left them to their own devices, surprisingly without any further punishment than a light scolding. She must really be distracted or pressed for time.





Cadance sat waiting in her home’s conservatory with tea and snacks for two laid out on the table. Here she grew fruits, flowers, and berries which refused to grow outside in the often chilly Canterlot climate. It wasn’t much, but the hobby gave her some peace of mind away from the stress of politics, motherhood, and deadlines.

“Well,” Twilight began as she finally reappeared, “that should keep those two quiet for the next two moons.”

Cadance eyed Twilight suspiciously. “What did you do?”

“Nothing much. Danger. Excitement. A heart-pounding chase. When I caught them, I just performed that awful I’m not angry, just disappointed routine Celestia used to pull on me.”

“Oof. You really pulled no punches.”

Twilight laughed as she sat down at her designated spot. “Where’s Shining?” she asked.

“He stepped out a little bit ago. Bad timing, I’m afraid.”

“Oh well.” Upon taking a sip of her tea, as Cadance had expected, Twilight’s eyes widened in surprised delight. She then uttered only one word. “How?”

“The secret, as it turns out, is a careful infusion of pegasus magic into the brewing process. Aunt Celestia taught it to me a few days ago.”

Cadance wasn’t sure what reaction she expected, but it wasn’t the dark frown and narrowed eyes that came over her sister’s face. “Twilight? What is it?”

“It’s nothing. Just an old mare being silly.” Twilight forcibly ended the conversation by asking, “So how’s the novel shaping up?”

Although curious, Cadance let the matter of Celestia’s secret tea recipe go and answered the question. “Not well. I’ve not had the time to write lately, although your mother and I have been bouncing ideas off each other.” It was decidedly strange having a supportive mother figure in her life. To be perfectly frank, she would have been fine merely with one who wasn’t ashamed of having a pegasus in the family via some strange biological quirk, but so much the better. “That reminds me. I was supposed to invite you to a family dinner, but if you plan to be gone until the solstice, I suppose that plan is bust.”

“Sorry.”

Cadance waved the apology off. “I understand. You’re busy saving Equestria.” As she bit into a teacake, her eyes wandered up to something she’d been meaning to ask about. “Nice crown, by the way. Any special meaning?” One in particular stood out. Did Auntie finally bring you into the family officially?

“Sort of. It’s a magical artifact. Part of a set of six. They, uh…” Twilight let out a resigned sigh. “They run off of the power of friendship.”

“Pull the other one.”

Twilight assured Cadance that it was true. She then went on to explain the current crisis facing not just Equestria but potentially the entire world. She painted an optimistic picture, her ego out in full force, but Cadance doubted she actually believed even half of what she said. No doubt that was Celestia’s influence at work. Even when things were at their worst, a princess must remain strong for her ponies.

Still, Twilight needed encouragement and support far more than fatalistic doom and gloom, so Cadance wished her luck in her quest. “Let me know if you need any help. I’ll drop everything and come right away.”

“Noted. I was actually hoping you would watch Spike for me again.”

“Of course.” It was no trouble at all, and having a playmate around the house for Flurry never hurt. “Anything else?”

There was. Twilight’s hesitation gave it away, a glimpse beneath the veneer of confidence and invincibility. Her arms shifted slightly, and Cadance would bet she’d taken to stroking her tail with her hooves beneath the table. It was an old nervous tic she’d never been able to entirely rid herself of as much as she’d tried. It took no more prompting than a little pregnant silence to get her to speak.

“If anything happens to me, Spike will need somewhere to go. Nothing will, naturally, but if something does, you and Shining will take him in, won’t you?”

“Oh, Twilight, of course we would. Just like we know you would Flurry.”

“Good. Good.” Strength returned to Twilight’s voice. “Thank you, Cadance. I don’t know how I ever would have managed without you all these years.”

“Parthenogenesis?”

“But that would just–” A look of realization dawned on Twilight, and she fell into a fit of laughter. “I think you meant binary fission.”

Cadance shrugged. Parthenogenesis sounded better, but Twilight was probably right. She knew enough about the sciences to be scientifically literate but hadn’t ever had the passion to pursue her own studies much further.

Regardless, as far as Cadance was concerned, Spike was as much her responsibility as Twilight’s. She’d been the only pony supportive of her beloved little sister’s desire to adopt him at the time and had promised herself to watch over them. Parenthood was hard enough, after all, without flying solo and all the other baggage Twilight brought into it with her.

As she finally recovered, Twilight said, “I suppose I could look into a duplication spell, but I’m not sure if the world is ready for two of me.”

“Hmm, perhaps so. Your fights might level the city.”

“That’s…probably true.” Whatever strange thought had popped into Twilight’s mind was banished just as quickly as it came. She downed the last of her drink and stood. “I should get going. Thank you for tea. Give Shining my regards.”

With a nod, Cadance rose as well and walked Twilight out. It was a symbolic gesture more than anything, a few last moments for conversation between family before duty called once more. Twilight teleported away just a little before she passed through the front gates and fully left the wards that protected the grounds. If there were any question that she’d wanted to linger, that would have shattered all doubts.

Cadance heaved a slight sigh on the walk back to the house now that she was alone. “Nightmare Moon, eh?”

Eternal night didn’t worry her. Even if the worst should come to pass, her family was well equipped to survive without the sun. Between her and Shining, they could sustain a habitable bubble of paradise in a dying world with a little help from the earth ponies on staff. It wouldn’t be the life they were used to, but they would have each other, and that would be enough.

No, what worried her was the mare who’d just left to throw herself into more danger than ever before. “Be careful, Twi.”





Sandy beaches, the warm sun, the sound of waves, a cool drink, and plenty of friends – all these things did a proper holiday make. Or at least Espionage thought it did. He’d lived in Equestria for years now, fully and happily immersed in pony culture to the point where he’d even taken a pony name to better blend in, but the little things did sometimes still trip him up. As this was his first experience with anything of the sort, he felt he’d be forgiven if he’d misunderstood what a holiday was.

And then came a flash of red and purple in the distance.

Espionage raised a hoof to push his sunglasses up to get a better look. Sure enough, that ominous light flared again, only closer this time.

“If I pretend I didn’t see her, she’ll go away.”

Leaning back into his lounge chair, eyes closed, Espionage basked in the sun. Nothing but rest and relaxation lay in wait in his near future.

“I wonder what’s keeping everypony?”

He’d only been gone for three days.

“Maybe I should head back inside.”

A distressingly large flux of magic above caught Espionage’s attention. It hardly needed any skill or focus to identify the tracking spell forming. This close, there would be no evading it.

“Oh, horseapples.”

And then she was there in front of him in a shower of purple and red sparkles. Espionage wasn’t sure what was up with that, but there was no doubt that it was the archmage herself who’d come to ruin his day. After a few moments, he noticed the new addition to her apparel.

Oh, by all the mothers, she’s wearing a crown now. “Uh, good afternoon, Your Excellency. What brings you here?” Please nothing important. Please nothing important.

“We have an existential crisis brewing. I need the hive’s assistance.”

Ponyfeathers! Hope dying, Espionage said, “All right. Let me just leave a note for my friends that you’ll be borrowing me for a few hours.”

The archmage held up a hoof, silently shooting down that idea. “This isn’t going to be a short job, Esp.”

“Your Excellency, please, I’ve never asked for time off before.”

“Evil waits for no one. If you want someone to blame, blame your queen for not appointing a substitute ambassador.”

Like that would ever happen. Everyling knew he had the job only because the queen despised him and wanted him out of her sight. It was only the protection of the Equestrian crown that had stayed her wrath.

“Look, I get it. The work we do is invasive to our personal lives,” the archmage said in an unusual display of empathy. Whatever crisis loomed really must be big. “But this is nonnegotiable. Reschedule. Someone wearing a crown will reimburse you for the trouble.”

Espionage, unsure of where the urge came from, sarcastically asked, “Like you?”

The archmage snorted, radiating a strange mixture of amusement, longing, and loathing. “Not likely,” she replied. “Go pack.” Pulling out a watch from nowhere, she checked the time. “I’ll meet you in your hotel’s lobby at the top of the hour to bring you back to the mainland.”

And with that, Espionage was alone again. The archmage vanished, whisked away in one of her teleports.

Espionage sighed in resignation. He packed up what he’d brought with him and wished the beach farewell.
> Chapter Three - Welcome to Ponyville
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You promised! There’s no going back now!”





When traveling over land in Equestria, as in most other countries, if one lacked wings, then the train became the fastest mode of transportation available. Of course, there were rare exceptions. The archmage and Princess Celestia, for example, had enough power to teleport around the world as they wished. But for everyone else, the train remained the next best option.

Index Code was a unicorn mare in her mid-twenties with a butterscotch coat. Her milky-white mane she wore tied in a braid, and her cutie mark was a disheveled pile of three hardcover books. She sat on the Ponyville bound line reading an old book entitled Entering the Dream Realm. It drew a few curious or skeptical looks from the surrounding passengers and might have enticed their interest.

In contrast, it was her reading glare, her posture, and the general aura of solitude she exuded that kept the seats surrounding Index empty. Such were, unfortunately, not habits easily lost even when wearing another pony’s skin. Maybe Celestia had been right all along. Maybe this entire quest for the Elements of Harmony was merely an exercise in futility.

Twilight heaved a long sigh. She hadn’t even left Canterlot Central Station yet. It was far too soon to assume the worst. So what if she scared everypony off with mere body language? She’d always known it wasn’t just her titles that intimidated ponies. Slapping both cheeks with her hooves, she forced herself back into character. Until further notice, she was Index Code, the boring, bookish bureaucrat.

Index had begun to think nopony was going to sit next to her again – and that was fine; she wasn’t on the clock until arriving in Ponyville – when a purple earth pony mare appeared.

“May I sit here?” the mare asked.

Perhaps too abruptly, Index nodded her assent. She telekinetically shoved her own bag to the side in the storage overhead to make room for the other mare’s and received a word of thanks in return.

“I’m Cheerilee, by the way,” the purple pony said, hoof extended.

“Index Code. Index is fine.” The two mares tapped hooves, and Index went back to reading her book.

Cheerilee dipped her head down to get a look at the title. “What are you reading?”

Sighing inwardly, Index closed her book. She couldn’t afford to have a possible Ponyville resident primed and ready to spread bad rumors about her before she even arrived in the community. “Entering the Dream Realm. It’s about lucid dreaming. For the most part, it’s an instructional manual on how to recognize when you’re asleep and what to do once you have.”

Cheerilee eyed the book with more interest now. “I’ve had a few lucid dreams before. I don’t remember them very well, but I do recall that they were a lot of fun. Is there anywhere I could get a copy?”

“Well…” Index idly played with the book in her hooves, trying to think of a way to explain her possession of a very old restricted tome. In the end, she decided part of the truth would do. “This is probably the last copy in existence, so you’d have to go through the Canterlot Archives and their authorization process to get ahold of it. They’d throw a fit if I lent it out to anypony myself.”

“That’s all right. So you work for the government, then?”

“Eh, sort of. I get shuffled around so much that I’m more of a consultant, but I am officially on the crown’s payroll.”

“That sounds tiring. I can’t imagine having to change jobs at all, let alone frequently.”

Index shrugged. “It’s not actually that bad. I do odd jobs for the princess and the archmage that they’re too lazy to do themselves. There are some things I don’t get a chance for, but my job stays fresh and I get to see a lot of different places in exchange.”

“Hmm, that’s an enticing way to look at it. Celestia knows the paperwork an elementary school generates wears me down at times. Summer work especially. All the foals get to run around and cause mischief while I’m stuck inside.”

“I completely understand the feeling,” Index said, although summer meant all year for her. Every bit of free time she put toward her research was hard won in a country that had some national crisis crop up that she had to deal with at least once a week. As much as she loved magic, it sometimes caused more problems than it solved.

“You have foals? How old?”

Having gotten lost in her own thoughts, it took Index a moment to rejoin the conversation. “Just one,” she replied. It hadn’t been what she’d meant, but she would roll with it. She paused for a moment then to consider just how old Spike was in terms of pony development. Her usual approach was to treat him with the level of maturity he displayed on any particular subject, which varied wildly, but if she had to put a number on it… Well, he gets along well with Flurry, so “he’s a little over nine.”

“Nine?” Cheerilee inspected Index with a measured eye. Index realized a little too late that, as an elementary school teacher, she would be well used to parents of a particular age range, one which Index very much did not belong to.

“The circumstances were…beyond my control,” Index said. A second later, she realized the implications she’d just made with her cryptic response. Eager to correct that misunderstanding, she said, “That’s not what I meant. There was nothing non-consensual going on,” which only made things worse. Now she sounded like she’d gotten herself pregnant as a minor.

Index fought the urge to facehoof when the snarky part of her mind pointed out that she hadn’t even been pubescent when she’d gotten the bright idea to intentionally hatch Spike.

“There was nothing consensual either,” Index hastily added, because clearly Spike congealed from the aether. “I mean – look, he’s adopted. Let’s just leave it at that before I embarrass myself any further.”

Cheerilee, smiling and visibly fighting down laughter, said, “I understand. I’m sure whatever brought it about was terrible, but I’m amazed you took on that level of responsibility at your age. How old were you when you took him in?”

“There’s not actually a terrible backstory involved. I have no idea who his biological parents are. He just showed up in my life one day, and we bonded.” All true in the most technical sense. “He’s been mine for the past six years, which is the way it’s going to stay.”

“That’s sweet. I wish there were more ponies like you in the world. It would mean the world for–” Cheerilee stopped abruptly and looked away, no doubt realizing she’d been about to reveal a student’s confidential information. “If you could please forget I said anything.”

“My lips are sealed. For reference, you could’ve just played that out into a comment about orphans in general. I might not have noticed anything then.”

Cheerilee took a moment to reflect on what she’d said. “Oh, I guess you’re right. I’ve never been very good at that kind of word play. That aside, tell me more about your colt.”

“Do you actually want to hear me gush about him?” Index asked. She’d never enjoyed it when other ponies tried to tell her about their foals. Although to be fair, those ponies mostly consisted of nobles looking for an apprenticeship for their talentless, spoiled brat. And she did like to hear stories about her niece. Maybe this was the right conversation starter to help her make friends.

“Of course!” Cheerilee replied, all smiles. “Even if they drive me insane during the school year, I love foals. It’s why I’m an elementary teacher.”

Index took a deep breath. She figured it might be awhile before she got another one.





The Equestrian Intelligence Service, more commonly known as the EIS, was a young institution in a nation older than recorded history. It’d started out as a specialized branch of the Royal Guard to serve as an investigative task force for the crown before slowly acquiring more responsibilities as time dragged on until it did everything from informing the princess where she could find the best cake in Equestria to performing the rare assassination.

Then came the EIS’s worst nightmare, Archmage Twilight Sparkle. She had the ear of the princess. She had the love of the people. She had the support of the Royal Guard. She had the mystical might to crush armies. She had the most political power ever concentrated in one pony outside of the princess herself. Anypony with eyes could see she was taking over the government.

Except then she just didn’t.

Of course, this hadn’t happened in a vacuum. The EIS’s internal investigations had butted heads with the Royal Guard hard enough to come to blows. The nobles had been up in arms over some nopony commoner muscling in on so much of their territory. The people railed against one of their own being threatened. It’d been chaos until the princess had stepped in to calm everypony down.

In the midst of this, the archmage had gone about her business oblivious to it all. She really just didn’t care, to the surprise of many, and once the princess had gotten that point across, the EIS went to work with her. Most of what the service did these days was, on some level, at her direction. The princess kept Equestria running. The archmage defended it. Such was simply the new status quo. Most grumbled that the general lack of royal oversight meant she did whatever she wanted and left the princess to clean up her mess, but that had a corollary. She would do whatever the crown needed and left the princess to put the pieces back together as Her Highness pleased.

It was an effective arrangement. Opinions were still divided on how much of the archmage’s antisocial behavior was real, but nopony could deny that things had never run smoother since she’d risen to prominence, both for Equestria in general and for the EIS in particular.

Then the archmage had dropped changelings on them. There were thousands of them living in Equestria right under their noses. Figuring out how to deal with that mess had taken ages. Setting up a new subdivision of the EIS in absolute secrecy to monitor the situation had been a source of never-ending headaches, but at least it’d gone much more smoothly than when the Anti-Monster Division had been created a few decades prior when some idiot stirred up the beasts of the Everfree Forest.

Spitfire had only been around for the latter major shakeup in the service, but judging by the look on her boss’s face, she was about to experience her second. Incog, the director of the EIS, finished reading a scroll from the archmage. It’d been hoof-delivered to her in the middle of a directorial meeting by the only changeling technically on staff. Everypony knew he’d sold himself to the archmage, after all, in exchange for some favor and now served at Her Excellency’s pleasure in the guise of an ambassador.

Her face a stony mask, Incog looked up from the scroll to Espionage. “Have you contacted your queen yet?”

Espionage’s flinch answered that question. “Her Majesty was under the impression that, and these are her words, Celestia intended to spank her bratty little sister and send her back to her room if that didn’t work.” When he noticed the rest of the room staring at him, he awkwardly cleared his throat. “She was…displeased to discover otherwise.”

“I hope that means she’s willing to cooperate with us on this.”

“Probably. She, er, asked to speak with Princess Celestia first.”

Nodding, Incog said, “Understandable. Her Excellency’s stand-in should be stopping by anytime now to introduce herself. We’ll have her pass along–”

“Wait, hold up!” The relatively new head of the Anti-Monster Division, Sweetie Drops, broke from the stupor that had befallen the crowd first. She then asked one of the many questions on everypony’s mind. “Princess Celestia has a sister?”

“So it would seem,” Incog said. She glared down at the scroll on the table before her. “A Princess Luna, aliases Nightmare Moon and the Mare in the Moon.”

Where before Spitfire had been confused, now a distinctly anxious feeling far worse than even her first Wonderbolts performance settled deep in her chest. She didn’t believe any of the stories about Nightmare Moon, but what did somepony have to do to earn a reputation for wanton destruction and cannibalism?

“The princess and…” Frowning, Incog paused and reworded that. “The princesses are fighting over sovereignty. According to Her Excellency, we need to be prepared for either or both to be sitting on the throne when–” The frown intensified. “No, she wrote thrones.”

“Equestria is a diarchy, Boss,” Spitfire threw out flippantly. That previously unexplained fact which everypony took for granted was printed on the back of every gold and silver bit the state minted.

Incog ignored the remark and the uneasy laughter it produced amongst the rest of the department heads. “All right, what this boils down to is simple. If two alicorns want to duke it out with each other to the bitter end, there’s not a whole lot we can do about it. What we can do is make sure nopony attempts to sabotage Princess Celestia’s chance at coming out on top. Her Excellency is off working her magic for the next six weeks to give our princess a better shot come the solstice. Are we going to do any less?”

A chorus of fervent noes met the question, and thus began a period of time wherein Incog issued orders to each department head in the EIS. Eventually, she came to the head of their aerial reconnaissance department.

“Spitfire, I want the Wonderbolts out on a ‘training exercise’ around Equestria. Look for anything out of the ordinary, but pay close attention to our borders and any domestic detachments which aren’t where they’re supposed to be. The last thing we want is the griffons taking advantage of the opportunity to get revenge for their recent embarrassment or some other such nonsense.”

After a few moments to internalize the order, Spitfire said, “Can do. What about our performances?”

“Keep what ones you can. We don’t want the public catching wind that we have reason to deploy aerial intelligence agents, but this takes priority.”

Spitfire nodded. Despite the disappointment, she understood the need. It would only be for a couple moons anyway from the sound of things.

“Sweetie Drops,” Incog said, turning to the mare in question. “We’ll call on your department as usual if there’s anything too big for us to manage on our own but too small to trouble the archmage with. Be ready. Other than that, business as usual for you.”

As the meeting wound down with them still waiting for the archmage’s stand-in to show up and say hi, Spitfire turned to Sweetie Drops at her right and Espionage one chair further down. “So, Esp, back from paradise so soon?”

The changeling in question leaned forward onto the table and buried his head in his hooves. “Don’t remind me,” he moaned. “I miss Haywaii already.”

“Yeah, no doubt,” Sweetie Drops said. “Warm beaches. Cool drinks. Relaxation. If anypony interrupted a trip there with Lyra so early, I’m sure I’d be ready to bite heads off myself.”

Spitfire raised her eyebrows. “That sounds like a honeymoon. Did one of you finally propose?”

“No. It wouldn’t feel right with our secrets hanging over us. But it’s nice to dream.”

“You should just tell her that you know,” Espionage said.

Spitfire added, “Incog already okayed you being involved with a pony of interest.”

“You’re probably right.” Sweetie Drops sighed and adopted much the same posture as the changeling next to her. “To be honest, I feel more like Bon Bon these days than Sweetie Drops.”

Espionage, the one who’d gone through formally assuming his cover identity as his actual one, sat upright and placed a supportive hoof on Sweetie Drop’s withers. “You could always quit and take up baking professionally. Your confectioneries are so full of love.”

Although Spitfire agreed that Sweetie Drops had some serious talent, that was perhaps not the best choice of words when her primary clientele would be ponies.

Sweetie Drops asked, “What about you?” to change the subject. “Anypony special in your life yet?”

“Nah,” Spitfire replied. She’d had flings here and there, but her interest never lasted long. Besides, the life of a Wonderbolt wasn’t well suited to steady relationships even when they were only putting on flight shows for the public.

Before anything more could be said, the door to the conference room opened to reveal…an off-brand version of the archmage. She apologized for being late after Incog beckoned her forward to the head of the table. Now that Spitfire had gotten a better look, she wondered if this was the archmage’s secret long lost twin.

At any rate, they could finally get started with the original purpose of this meeting.





The train pulled into its first southbound stop with a mighty hiss of released steam and the screech of the breaks. Those sensitive to the flow of magic felt a large flux of thaumic energies being released until the train came to a halt in Ponyville Station. Several dozen ponies quit the locomotive for the platform, and at the end of the line came Index and Cheerilee. Their conversation, having eventually left Spike, had allowed Index to learn a lot about Ponyville. Most recently, they’d moved on to Index’s business in town.

“So where will you be staying while overseeing the festival? We don’t have any inns.”

Index was, in fact, not entirely sure. “I think I’m staying with the Ponyville hospitality director. Or something like that.” She’d been in a bit of a rush when snapping up this assignment and hadn’t worried about the fine details.

“Oh, you’ll want to find Pinkie Pie, then. You should have lots of fun with her. Just, uh, take her in small doses at first.”

Worried, Index gave Cheerilee a questioning look. That sounded like the kind of pony who would wear down what little patience she had very quickly. Rather than explain her remark, however, Cheerilee merely pointed across the platform.

Even through the crowd of departing ponies, Index saw what awaited her at the exit. An earth pony that oozed pink stood on her hind legs with a greeting sign held aloft in her hooves above her head. It read, ‘Welcome to Ponyville, Index!’ Surrounding the mare was what could only be called a flock of balloons, and at her side sat something so out of place, it boggled the mind.

Is – is that a cannon? Why does she have a cannon? What possible use does she have for a cannon of all things?

It was for but a fleeting moment, but Index and the pink pony locked eyes. Suddenly, as quick as teleportation but without any apparent use of magic, she was at Index’s side with their forehooves locked in the beginnings of an enthusiastic hoofshake. Reflexively, Index flung her away with enough strength to send her flying out of the station. In the back of her stunned mind, Index recognized that she needed to save the abomination, but a blink later, the pink one was already back and shaking her other hoof.

What?

It was all Index could do to control her reflexes and not send the anomaly to Saddle Lake or teleport herself to a random location far, far away. The test increased in difficulty when the pink one moved in for a tight hug and knocked her onto her rear without breaking the embrace.

And then the pink one spoke.

“Welcome to Ponyville, Index! We’re so glad to have you here! I’m so sorry for surprising you like that. My name is Pinkie Pie, but I bet you already knew that. My friends call me Pinkie. I live at Sugarcube Corner where you’ll be staying with me and the Cakes. That’s a capital C, not that there aren’t lowercase C cakes there as well. Mayor Mare arranged for you to stay with us. We’re going to have so much fun together! Your welcome party’s tonight. You’ll be able to meet most everypony in Ponyville but not quite all of it. Sugarcube Corner just isn’t big enough to host a party for the entire town. If you want to make it in time, we’ll have to get going. We could be fashionably late to your own party, but the mayor wants to say hello to you personally, and who knows how long that will take. She’s always so bogged down in paperwork and red tape and all that. I’ve got your luggage, so let’s go.”

What?

That had all come out at a speed almost faster than Index could process, which was a disturbing thought all on its own. Blinking, she realized that Pinkie Pie had indeed managed to get ahold of her bag. It had nothing important in it beyond the paperwork for the Summer Sun Celebration, but nopony short of Celestia herself, let alone an earth pony, should be able to take something from her telekinetic grasp without her even noticing. She must have dropped the bag at some point. That made sense.

At some point, the confetti cannon – that was weird, right, or had she fallen into some strange alternate reality? – had gone off, but Index couldn’t see any sign of the expected mess on the platform. In fact, where had the cannon gone? As Pinkie Pie all but dragged her away by a hoof, she stared pleadingly back at Cheerilee.

Cheerilee just waved goodbye.





After being dragged across town and given the name of every pony they passed on the way, Pinkie Pie gave Index over to the custody of a sympathetic looking unicorn mare. She introduced herself as Amethyst Star, assistant and secretary to the mayor. While Pinkie Pie waited downstairs, she guided Index upstairs to wait just outside the mayor’s office. It was a party free zone, a much needed and appreciated regulation after dealing with the local self-proclaimed party pony. She offered a blanket and a cup of hot chocolate despite the season, the latter of which Index accepted.

As the time passed without distraction, Index merely sitting and waiting patiently for the mayor to be free, her mind struggled to comprehend the enigma lurking in wait downstairs. Reality around Pinkie Pie seemed to behave the way the pink one thought it should rather than in any orderly fashion. It had to be the result of some form of magic, but for the life of her, Index didn’t understand it. It was, in equal measure, both exhilarating and terrifying. It was mysterious. It was fascinating. It was new. And she had absolutely no defense in place against it.

It’d been a long, long time since Twilight had felt even the slightest bit vulnerable.

Twilight took a sip of her chocolate. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear she’d finally met a proper peer. Celestia, as her mentor, didn’t count. But what does she use all that power for? She snorted. Parties. It grated against her sensibilities. Sure, she by and large studied magic for its own sake, but the pursuit of knowledge was a noble calling, not some hedonistic–

Twilight brought her drink up to her lips and inhaled deeply, breathing in the sweet, calming scent of chocolate, before taking another sip. Everypony was entitled to pursue happiness in their own way even if it infuriated her to see so much potential go to waste. It was fine. Everything was fine.

A soft nudge to the arm brought Twilight back to reality with an accompanying, “Index?”

Ponyfeathers. I’m out of character. Sighing, Index turned her attention to the mare beside her. “Yes?”

“The mayor will see you now,” Amethyst Star said.

After nodding in acknowledgment, Index rose to enter the mayor’s office. On one wall inside hung a chalkboard with frantically drawn diagrams and a few dozen documents pinned to it by magnets. At a glance, it seemed to be trying to identify the ‘source of chaos’ in Ponyville. Pinkie Pie, unsurprisingly, was listed as a prime suspect just below the Everfree Forest. Upon closer inspection, it seemed the village suffered, to say the least, a weekly monster attack and some unrelated breakdown of social order every moon.

I haven’t even been here an hour, and I already know this place has orphans, an earth pony reality warper, and a population so inured to disaster that they shrug off things that would cripple most towns. Index warily eyed the hot chocolate floating along beside her. Is there something in the water? She made a mental note to cast a few spells later to verify the village’s mental well-being. If there were no obvious problems, she’d send a memo off to the EIS and have them look into things for her.

At any rate, Index took the seat available directly across from the mayor at her desk. The unfortunately named Mayor Mare – the name plate said Mayor Mayor Mare – was a tan coated earth pony with a white and gray mane and tail with an almost imperceptible hint of pink at the roots. Of particular interest were the browline glasses she wore instead of using a simple spell correct her vision. Such things were widely available on the market these days. Moon Dancer did the same for reasons Index would never understand. Overall, it seemed the mayor wanted to appear older than she naturally looked.

Mayor Mare noticed the hot chocolate still floating nearby. She pushed over a coaster for it and said, “Please accept my apologies for Pinkie Pie. I try to rein in her antics, but one can only do so much.”

“It’s okay.” Anypony who heard it could spot the lie. “I’ve coped with less friendly horrors.” A second after she’d said it, Index realized she’d forgotten her filter. Insulting the residents didn’t seem like a good first impression to make on Ponyville. “I didn’t mean–”

“It’s all right,” Mayor Mare said assuringly. “I fully understand and sympathize. You build up a tolerance after a while, but your first exposure to her is something you never forget.”

Index, glad to know other ponies felt as she did, asked, “Do you know how she does it? I would say she’s breaking the rules, but that would discredit me as an academic forever.”

“I have no idea,” Mayor Mare replied. “But I assure she’s harmless. She’s really very nice. I can understand if you’d like different accommodations–”

Index held up a hoof, paused a moment to have her second thoughts, and then waved it dismissively. “I’ll endure. Besides, I’m here for the next two moons. I can’t start out by snubbing the mare everypony in this town seems to like.” And I must study her. Pinkie Pie was entirely too fascinating to ignore.

Nonetheless, Mayor Mare said, “There’s nopony in town who would hold fleeing from Pinkie against you. You do look unusually shaken. We understand she can be a bit much.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, but I’ll be fine. I just wasn’t expecting…” Index faltered for words, trying to find the most appropriate laypony terms for how she would describe the anomaly.

“Pinkie Pie,” Mayor Mare finished.

“Well…yeah.” The mare in question might as well be given her own category.

The smile Index received from Mayor Mare was likely meant to be reassuring, but it came off rather strained. “After your party tonight, she’ll cool off. A little.”

Index swallowed, nervous, but nodded. She did recall Pinkie Pie mentioning something to that effect somewhere in the endless stream of words that had assaulted her. She would take solace in the promised respite.

“Now then, on to business.” The mayor pushed a folder across her desk. “We started planning the moment we received word we would be hosting the Summer Sun Celebration this year. This dossier contains the details of what we’ve worked out so far. I can summarize it for you if you’d like.”

While Index could probably read the entire document faster than anypony could highlight it, she gave the nod anyway. She’d gone to considerable effort to dramatically undersell herself today and remain approachable – relatively speaking. She wouldn’t let a little impatience ruin all that work.

“There are two major parts to the celebration. There’s the usual festivities like street performers, dancing, plays, rides, food, et cetera. We’ve already contracted several specific entertainers to come. They’ll be arriving sporadically between now and the week before. The usual carnival events will arrive within a couple weeks but won’t be set up until a few days before the solstice.”

“Hang on a second.” As she read along through the dossier, Index paused on one particular name. “Who is Trixie Lulamoon?” The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her magic on it.

“She’s a traveling showpony. She performs a magic act under the stage name of the Great–”

And then it hit her. “Of course!” Index cried. She rose from her chair to pose dramatically on her legs. “Nopony could ever forget the Great and Powerful Trixie!” And then, since ponies were not bipedal, she fell back onto her seat. “She blew up the auditorium twice and the music room before they gave up and expelled her.”

“Er… Maybe we should reconsider–”

“No, no.” Index waved her hoof at the very thought of the idea. “This will be great. At a distance, there’s no better entertainment. And if she’s a showpony now, she must have developed some measure of restraint. Or swindled some poor insurance company. Either way, we would be remiss to deny the world Trixie.”

Mayor Mare accepted the disaster waiting to happen with a distinctly resigned mien. It would be just another day in Ponyville. “Right. Moving on. For the actual ceremony, Vinyl Scratch volunteered to manage the music and sound systems. You may know her as DJ Pon-3.”

Nodding along, Index internally frowned. She’d come here to get away from Canterlot culture. Vinyl wasn’t a snob or even a proper resident, but she still wondered how many more familiar names she would hear today.

“We also have no small number of carpenters, both professionals and hobbyists, in town building stages and other temporary structures. Big Macintosh of Sweet Apple Acres is in charge of that. His little sister, Applejack, is heading up catering for the reception of the notables. We’ve pushed her into working with a number of other ponies to even out her, well, her rather enthusiastic love of apples.”

Sweet Apple Acres, Index recalled, supplied the castle’s zap apple jam and cider. If that was their standard of quality for apple products, she saw no reason to complain.

“We also managed to get Octavia Melody and her group to come play at the reception.”

Of course. If you get one, you get the other. Octavia and Vinyl didn’t often do gigs together. The former catered to high society events of the sort that Celestia liked to drag her archmage to while the latter tended to work the nightclub scene. But they did tend to take jobs in the same area and travel together.

Some of Index’s frustration must have slipped out onto her face as Mayor Mare asked, “Is that a problem?”

“Only for me.” It would just be another pony who knew the real her who Index would have to steer clear of as much as possible. “Personal reasons,” she said in explanation. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, then next would be decorations. When the time comes, Pinkie will be in charge of that. Good news for you,” Mayor Mare said in jest. “You’ll have some guaranteed freedom from her.”

Index rolled her eyes.

“Lastly, we have a promise from the Royal Guard to help out with security and peacekeeping. They’re scheduled to arrive the week before the festival and will stay until the day after it’s over. We expect a huge influx of ponies during that time, so naturally, we’ll need their help. Last I heard, they intend to send somepony a week or so prior to that to work out the details.”

Great, another pony to avoid.

“Along a similar line of thought, we’re building a number of temporary inns to house visitors in. We’re unsure if we’ll be able to make enough in time or if we’ll have to resort to simpler structures.”

“If that becomes a major concern, I’ll put in a request for some magical assistance. The princess and the archmage will likely help clean up their own mess.”

“About that…” Mayor Mare hesitated before throwing caution to the wind. “Why is Ponyville hosting the Summer Sun Celebration at all? And on the thousandth anniversary, no less. Not that we’re not grateful, but it’s always been held in a larger city before. And we’re admittedly not nearly as well equipped to host it.”

“An excellent question.” After a brief pause for dramatic effect, Index replied, “I have no idea. From what I understand, you’d have to ask Princess Celestia or Archmage Twilight directly to get an answer. But if you want my speculations, I think they just want a day or two in the country to relax for once.”

Both mares stopped to enjoy a laugh, one of them at the sheer amount of irony in the statement.

“Anyway, if that’s everything important–” Index waited for the mayor to nod. “–then I should explain my job since this is Ponyville’s first time hosting one of these things. I’m not here to take over. I’m only here to ensure you don’t crash and burn. Otherwise, you have complete creative control. If you need my assistance or connections, you have them. If you need the crown to provide anything, I’m the mare to speak to. I’ll expect updates once in a while, but not in real time. Have fun with this, and make it your own. If you do well, the powers that be might add Ponyville to the regular list for hosting events.”

“We’d appreciate that. We have a healthy local economy with the main branch of the Apple family here, but we could really use the tourism.”

Rising, Index said, “It was good to meet you.”

“Likewise. I’ll have Amethyst keep our records up to date, so whenever you want an update, you can just ask her for them. If you have any questions, I’ll be glad to see you as well.”





Sugarcube Corner was by no means a large store, but it dedicated most of its floorspace to a mere two rooms. There was the kitchen, packed to the brim with ovens and raw ingredients, and then there was the dining area which boasted no less than thirty tables. When cleared out, the latter provided plenty of space for celebrations of all varieties and a bit of extra revenue from the guests placing special orders beyond the provided party fare.

Pinkie Pie had gone all out and invited several hundred ponies. The whirlwind of introductions had gone by so fast that even Index had trouble remembering every name. To her relief, Pinkie Pie hadn’t insisted on escorting her the entire night nor forcing her to carouse, which left her free to find a quiet corner to, as her mission required, socialize in peace while the party went on without her. In that, at least, it proved more enjoyable than the Grand Galloping Gala, a torture Celestia dragged her to annually so that they might suffer together.

With some hesitation, Index approached Vinyl first. She wasn’t as familiar with the mare as with Octavia but knew Vinyl to be of a tolerable sort who might be able to introduce her to other ponies so long as she didn’t give herself away. Indeed, Derpy, a cross-eyed, gray pegasus joined the conversation soon after. She was…nice. A bit clumsy, but nice. That was about all Index could say about her so far. She worked as a mailmare and had a filly with a local inventor.

An earth pony approached next. She had a cream colored coat and, notably for its atypicality, a dark blue mane and tail with a large stripe of fuchsia running through the middle. Index swore they’d met before but couldn’t recall when or where. Upon inquiry, she introduced herself as Bon Bon, worked as a confectioner in town, and said, “No, I don’t do any governmental work. Why do you ask?” She did admit to having been in Canterlot earlier in the day, however, so Index let the matter go as a face who’d stood out in a crowd.

After a bit of small talk, the four of them sat down together to play some local card game with a name Index had trouble pronouncing. It was, to her great surprise, a partner trick-taking game with an engaging level of strategy she intended to bring home with her.

“Pass.”

Play went from Derpy to Index herself. She eyed Vinyl on her left carefully, looking for a tell as to her game plan. With only five cards left, if Index misplayed, she could go out first and secure enough points for her team to win the game. The sunglasses she insisted on wearing both indoors and at night certainly didn’t help make the decision any easier, and reading body language wasn’t something Index was particularly good at to begin with.

Across the table, Index’s partner, Bon Bon, waited patiently and revealed little. She’d led a single full house this trick, and Index had no idea what her intentions were. Table talk wasn’t allowed, so it wasn’t like she could just ask. She might have a bomb left to counter the one Index was fairly certain Vinyl had, but then she might well be counting on her partner to be so prepared. Index had, after all, been in this exact same situation a few rounds ago.

Maybe I’m overthinking this. Hesitantly, Index lifted four sevens from her hand but stopped short of playing them. She pushed them back down, deciding to save the bomb in case Vinyl’s was smaller than–

Oh, horseapples. Now they know I have a four of a kind. No wait. I can bluff my way through this.

Index eyed Vinyl again, trying to double bluff her mistake away, only to see the mare smirk.

Curse these locals and their stupid game!

In a burst of frustration, Index plucked a full house from her hand and softly slammed it onto the pile. She looked at her opponent and noticed the small movements of Vinyl’s chest.

Argh! She’s laughing at me!

Vinyl laid her entire hand down on the trick. She had a five long straight flush.

Index gaped, stunned, and then collapsed onto the table. It didn’t even matter… Now even her own partner laughed at her. She groaned.

“You’re not that bad,” Bon Bon said reassuringly. “I’ve had worse partners.”

Derpy chimed in next. “I was terrible when I first played. You just need more experience.”

“Most of the game is learning how the other ponies at the table play,” Vinyl added.

“So you’re saying I could win if I get to know you better?” That’s conveniently in line with my mission.

“We,” Bon Bon corrected. “We could win.”

After a brief moment of hesitation, Index said, “Of course.” She supposed it was a partner game.

“Right.” Index didn’t check, but she felt certain Bon Bon rolled her eyes. “It’s not the only reason we lost, but your teamwork is abysmal.”

Index had no room to deny the accusation. She knew how to delegate, but she could barely remember the last time she’d worked in active cooperation with somepony other than Celestia.

“It’s too late to play again tonight,” Bon Bon began, “but I’m free tomorrow if you’re looking to kill time.”

It took a frustrating few seconds – perhaps the worst part of working undercover was the lack of public access to subspace storage – to find a clock on a wall. The night had barely set in. Ugh, that’s going to take some getting used to. Even without the magical modifications to her own circadian rhythm – something she would unfortunately be going without while in Ponyville – Index was a night owl by nature. Nonetheless, she accepted the offer.

“What about you two?” Bon Bon asked.

Vinyl replied first. “Nah. Mayor Mare is sending me to Canterlot for a few days. She wants the details of Tavi’s gig worked out asap.”

“Derpy?”

“I have to work late tomorrow. We’re expecting lotsa mail with the festival.”

Bon Bon hummed in thought. “Well, Lyra will want to play, of course. Octavia is out, obviously. Cheerilee will probably be busy…”

“Minuette mentioned she’d be in town,” Vinyl offered.

“Ooh, she hasn’t had time to play in a while. That’ll be fun.”

After cleaning up, Vinyl and Derpy excused themselves while Bon Bon explained when and where to meet tomorrow. It turned out that she lived on the outskirts of town, if a pony could call it that. Ponyville wasn’t big enough to warrant an outskirts. She also insisted on making the get together a dinner occasion as well.

With their arrangements made, Bon Bon left for home, and Index went back to prowling the fringe of the dwindling party. It wasn’t long before Pinkie Pie showed amazing restraint when she actually ended the affair and sent everypony home. To be honest, Index had expected the party to end only when the last pony left of their own volition.

“Now comes the after-party!” Pinkie Pie said, approaching at a springy bounce rather than anything sensible like a trot. “We’ll stay up all night playing games, telling each other about ourselves, and eating delicious sweets!”

“Er…” Index searched her mind for an excuse. She’d had enough of the pink one for today. “I’m pretty tired from my trip here and the party. I think I should just turn in for the night.”

“Okie dokie loki!”

Relief flooded Index. That had been much easier than expected.

“I’ll show you to our room.”

And there’s the rub. “Our room?”

“Yeah! The Cakes don’t have any extras, what with the restaurant and the kitchen, but don’t worry, silly. There’s plenty of space. I have the entire tower for myself.”

A tower? Despite herself, that aroused Index’s interest. Sugarcube Corner was built as gingerbread house with a cupcake structure sitting atop it. She’d written the latter off as decorative or maybe storage rather than livable space, but it seemed either Pinkie Pie or the Cakes had good taste. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad.

Up two flights of stairs, the pair entered Pinkie Pie’s cupcake tower. It had far too many balloons inside of it, but it otherwise looked remarkably normal for a mare’s room. It had a fireplace, surprisingly, as well as a staircase that led up to an internal balcony ringing the tower. The unusual design allowed for bunk beds with balcony access to the upper bed. Some remnant of foalhood innocence in Index approved.

There was also an alligator in the middle of the room.

“Uh…”

Pinkie Pie, following Index’s gaze, said, “Oh, that’s Gummy, my pet. He’s super friendly!”

“Gummy?”

“‘Cause he’s got no teeth.” Pinkie Pie proved this fact by prying the sleeping alligator’s mouth open, which oddly didn’t wake it.

Index shook her head. I’m not even going to question the madness. She’d seen weirder things today.

“Soooo,” Pinkie Pie said, “top bunk or bottom bunk?”

“Top of course.” As if there were any other choice. She thought about floating herself up to the bed, but Index restrained herself from showing off and climbed the stairs to the balcony like a normal pony. Pinkie Pie, it seemed, had anticipated her decision. Her bag lay just beside the top bunk.

After Index hopped into bed, Pinkie Pie turned off the light. The sound of rustling blankets came from below, and then all fell silent for five blissful seconds.

“Hey, Index? Why have you been avoiding magic all night?”

Caught off guard, Index hesitated a little too long before she replied, “What do you mean?”

“Weeeeell, earlier when you offered to refill Vinyl’s punch with your own, your horn lit up for the tiniest fraction of a second, and then you decided to get up and go over to refreshment table to work at close range. You’ve been doing that all night and all day. Just giving off these little blips of magic that never do anything before then going off to do something.”

This mare is unnaturally observant. And yet Index had made a cursory scan of Pinkie Pie – nothing which would attract attention or appear threatening – only to conclude that the mare was either a regular earth pony or a very skilled mage pretending very poorly to be one. After ruminating on how to respond, she eventually decided on, “It’s personal.”

Pinkie Pie hummed suspiciously.

To deflect further questions, Index posed one of her own. “What about you?”

“What about what about me?”

“You’re… I don’t even know.” Index hadn’t yet had the time to really sit down and analyze Pinkie Pie’s abilities. “For one, you’re…very fast?”

Pinkie Pie, giggling, said, “Of course I am. How else would I be able to throw such great parties and bring smiles to everypony in town?”

Even expecting the nonanswer, it still made Index scowl. But part of her wondered if Pinkie Pie even knew how she did it all. If she really was just a regular old earth pony, then her magic likely worked without any conscious effort on her part. The power set could change, but Index had no evidence to conclude the rule set had as well. Perhaps, even, it was just a conceptual limitation holding other earth ponies back. While there were clearly a few screws loose in Pinkie Pie’s head, it could be that her mental disconnect with reality allowed her magic to do more simply because she believed it could.

“So, where are you from?”

Pulled from her thoughts, Index replied, “Canterlot.”

“Ooh! We get a lot of commuters from Canterlot like Minuette, and we have a lot of commuters to Canterlot. Vinyl moved here with Octavia years ago, and those two go back and forth all the time. Bon Bon heads up there often herself, and Lyra says she’s from Canterlot, but she never had your accent, so I wonder if she’s from from Canterlot or if she only moved here from there.

“Myself, I was born on a rock farm west of Appleloosa. My dad is Igneous Rock, and my mom is Cloudy Quartz. You didn’t hear it from me, but they’re a little boring. I have three sisters, Marble, Limestone, and Maud. The first two still live with our parents and help run the farm, but Maud is way different. She’s a geologist and the life of the party.

“What about your family?”

It took a few seconds for Index to realize that Pinkie Pie had asked a question and finally stopped talking. This, she knew, was going to be a long night. “Well, there’s my parents, my brother, my sister-in-law, my niece, and my son.”

“You’re a mom? What about your super special somepony?” Taking Index’s sigh as having asked the wrong question, Pinkie verbosely apologized for bringing up a missing partner.

Index corrected that assumption as soon as she could get a word in edgewise. “There’s nopony missing, dead, estranged, or otherwise out of touch with me. My son is adopted. And before you start up, there was no tragedy on his end either.”

“How old is he?”

I really need to keep a list of all the fabrications I weave to keep my story straight. Index surreptitiously kept a lot of lists and mental notes using a few nifty cantrips, not eager to let ponies see her OCD at its worst, but she’d never suspected she’d one day need to keep one for lies. Nonetheless, she recalled that she’d told Cheerilee that Spike was nine, so she did the same now with Pinkie Pie.

“He must be adorable!”

“Yes. He is. Very much so. He’s a wonderful son, but he can be a bit of a troublemaker. Even more so when he’s with his cousin.” Flurry wasn’t a bad influence, per se, but she did tend to lead them into trouble. “Though they’re nothing compared to the stories I heard tonight about the Cutie Mark Crusaders.”

“Oh, yeah. Those fillies really know how to have fun! Just a few days ago they put on a huge rock show for all of Ponyville, and the week before that they set fire to the pond across town, and before that–”

“Come again?”

“You didn’t hear about that one?” Pinkie Pie asked incredulously. “It’s probably the bestest, most exciting, mind-boggling thing they’ve done yet. It all started eleven days ago when Diamond Tiara bet that they couldn’t jump the pond…”
> Chapter Four - Unexpected Complications
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A wondrous display of magic suffused the air. It fractaled outward at an ever greater speed until the frontier finally vanished beyond sight. Two ponies watched, awestruck, the final culmination of a spell millennia in the making. One turned to the other. “But what does it do?”





The slow tolling of midnight resounded throughout the hall. Since the last time Twilight had visited, Canterlot Castle had undergone a dramatic change in decor to the point where she barely recognized it. It was as though the interior designer, in a fit of artistic angst, had determined that the sun motif had been overplayed and had decided to experiment with moons and stars.

Feeling a little stiff in the neck, Twilight adjusted her torc of office about her neck. It didn’t slide about her neck as easily as usual, oddly enough. She summoned a mirror to get a better look to discover that the ornate regalia she wore as the archmage had been replaced with a plain, enchanted collar. While that seemed strange to her, she thought nothing more of it once she’d shifted it into a more comfortable position.

A brisk trot through the corridors of the castle brought Twilight to a pair of large double doors which nearly reached the high ceiling. The guards posted at them let her pass with twin salutes. In the hall on the other side, she moved forward down the center aisle with faceless ponies on either side of her. It was almost as if she were…

A moment of realization brought clarity. Oh, ponyfeathers. I’m at open court. What on Equus possessed me to come here? I give all my reports to the queen in private.

Looking over the assembled ponies from the corner of her eye, for stopping to examine them would be a social faux pas even she wouldn’t make, Twilight recognized nopony in particular. She couldn’t even recall some specific plea she wished to weigh in on publicly. That brought a frown onto her face. Surely she had a reason to come here. Her memory was better than this.

At the end of the hall, Twilight dipped into a quick bow to her queen. She then scaled the dais to take her place upon the lesser throne beside her master’s. Once seated, she turned to the black alicorn above her. For a few moments, her eyes grew lost in the ethereal mane caught in an absent breeze. The stars in it lent it an otherworldly, dreamlike quality which she could study with the same passion as the night sky itself.

Twilight shook herself of her distraction. “What am I doing here, Queen Moon?” Something about that question felt off.

“Recall that this is your punishment for your disobedience last night, my faithful slave,” Nightmare Moon replied, mild amusement written on her face underneath the stern tone. “We both know corporal punishment doesn’t really work on you when I want the message to stick. Besides, I just love how you squirm with every pony you must deal with calmly and civilly.”

“I…see.” After a few moments to process the explanation, it all came rushing back. Twilight was Nightmare Moon’s plaything. She had been ever since she’d failed so spectacularly to save Celestia. “Thank you for reminding me of my place, my queen.” How could I forget?

Nightmare Moon nodded, satisfied with the response. “We’ll quash that little rebellious streak in you eventually. Then we won’t have to resort to such heavy hoofed measures to discipline you. There is still the second half of your punishment, of course. I thought it would be more…actively entertaining for me, shall we say, to give you to that one guard later tonight. You know, the one that doesn’t understand the meaning of no or what being repeatedly defenestrated might imply.”

The horrified look in Twilight’s eyes spoke for her and filled Nightmare Moon with a predatory mirth.

“I – no, you can’t–”

“Oh, but I can. You belong to me. And as it seems you need to be taught a real lesson to fully understand that.”

Nightmare Moon summoned a large collection of papers and notebooks. Eyes wide, heart stopping, Twilight gasped in shock. She’d gone to no small effort to keep her most precious research hidden from everypony, Celestia included, but Nightmare Moon had somehow gotten her hooves on it. The queen’s horn glowed an ominous cyan, making a show of carefully selecting a single sheet of paper and holding it aloft between them. And then she spoke the most terrible words imaginable.

“You didn’t think I would let you go through with this, did you? Even my sister would have balked no matter how much trust she claims to have in you. It amused me to watch you try, but it’s time to put an end to your delusions.”

The paper ignited, burning unnaturally slowly and crackling with maleficence.

Screaming in defiance, Twilight tried to summon up her magic to save her research. When that didn’t work, she leapt from her throne and snatched the paper from the air. The fire didn’t hurt her, but when she stomped on it, it wouldn’t go out. She watched it crumble away, powerless, and then fell to her knees and sobbed.

All that work, my life’s ambition, gone.

No. Not gone. Twilight’s head snapped up with a fire in her eyes. Most of it is still left. I can recreate what I’ve lost. I just need to–

A click of the tongue met Twilight’s defiance. “I had hoped we might burn through this more slowly, my rebellious slave, but you’ve clearly not learned your lesson. I think a more provocative image is in order.”

Nightmare Moon ignited the rest of the papers and notebooks before tossing them into the air. They flew about the hall, burning to ash and being destroyed forever. There were no other copies in the entire world, and Twilight didn’t know how much she could recreate purely from memory. It was over. It was all over. She’d been defeated on every level and had nothing left but to content herself with life as a slave to the mare who’d ruined everything.

Twilight awoke crying.





With all the horror stories I’ve heard, I never imagined the Everfree would be so dull. Moon Dancer had spent some time exploring what was left of the Old Castle, but the most interesting parts of it were a little too structurally unsound for her to feel comfortable stepping hoof in. Maybe next time she would bring some paperwork to tackle during her down time.

Moon Dancer’s gaze strayed to Magic sitting atop the pedestal in the throne room. It ‘hated’ Princess Celestia, in her own words, and she’d needed assistance to transport it back to the Old Castle to use as a stabilizing agent against the Everfree’s chaotic magic. Despite the princess’s recommendation to the contrary, Moon Dancer had indulged her curiosity and worn it during the flight over.

That had been a mistake.

Even at a vastly reduced power output, for the Element was not hers, Moon Dancer felt the call more strongly now that she’d exposed herself to Magic’s effects directly. Like a gravity well, if she stopped fighting it, it pulled her attention back to it. If her thoughts ever wandered, they wandered to it. It was a terrible distraction. She couldn’t imagine what Twilight had felt when parting with the Element.

“There.”

The quiet of the night broken, Moon Dancer’s attention turned back to Princess Celestia. She’d finished her latest spell, it seemed, and was busy reading through the revised spellwork Twilight had delivered with Magic before leaving yesterday. With a nod to herself, she passed the plans over to Moon Dancer with the usual request to double check her work.

Despite feeling a little out of her depth, Moon Dancer did as asked. She lit her horn and sent probing spells into the enchantments laid down in the castle with the lightest touch possible, wary of triggering any of the traps herself. They should only react to Princess Luna’s return from banishment, but it never hurt to be careful when poking lethal spells set on a hairpin trigger.

Satisfied with the results she obtained, Moon Dancer said, “You’re good,” and floated the instructions back to Princess Celestia. She hadn’t caught any mistakes yet, but a second horn was essential with this level of sensitive and dangerous detail work.

Outside the castle, beyond the protective wards Princess Celestia had placed to keep animals out, came first the cry of some poor creature falling prey to a predator and then the roar of triumph. A shiver ran through Moon Dancer as her gut twisted, but she pushed the incident from her mind. It was merely the circle of life, after all, when there were no ponies around to engineer the environment. It wasn’t even the first time she’d heard something similar tonight.

“I remember when this forest was the beating heart of civilization. Discord never liked to come here, which made it a safe haven for all sentient creatures. When Luna and I defeated him, we went home to our forest village and celebrated. Ponies flocked to us from near and far. Our home grew into a city. Our city became a capital. Families who had preserved scraps of knowledge from before Discord for generations emerged from hiding and joined our growing kingdom. For the first time in an era, we learned of our heritage and celebrated Hearth’s Warming. Thus was Equestria reborn.”

Moon Dancer, hyperventilating in silence, fought not to disturb the princess’s pensive mood. Was this what it was like to be Twilight? Did this happen all the time? That might possibly be the only firsthoof account of Equestria’s second founding in existence. Did Princess Celestia always impart such priceless knowledge to her faithful student on a whim, or was it her sister’s imminent return which made her careless and had her lost in memories?

One question slipped loose. In a low whisper, one easily ignored without discourtesy, Moon Dancer asked, “What happened?”

Princess Celestia took a slow, steady breath, filling her lungs to capacity before emptying them. Her gaze shifted from her work to the moon hanging in the sky above. “Luna and I fought. Our battle raged until I collapsed from exhaustion. In desperation, I used Magic to recall all of the Elements to me, but by then the damage had been done. Can you imagine how much magic we unleashed in our struggle?”

“Then the Everfree’s magic…”

“It’s ours,” Princess Celestia said solemnly. “Luna’s and mine. The forest took on a semblance of life before the dust even settled. Eternally locked in combat with itself, it greedily devours all magic within its reach, even my own, to gain the upper hoof. I always meant to return here and clean up my mess, but the centuries slipped away on me.” Softly, she added, “Perhaps Luna will find the time.”

A pregnant silence fell.

“Princess…” Moon Dancer hesitated. While she recalled the warning Twilight had given her back in Manehattan, this was Princess Celestia. It was lèse-majesté to even hint at her suspicions! But perhaps an oblique approach would be permissible. “You do believe in Twilight, right?”

Now that the question had left her lips, Moon Dancer felt the fool. Of course Princess Celestia believed Twilight would succeed in reawakening the Elements of Harmony. It was why they were going to all this effort to prepare for Princess Luna’s return, after all. She really shouldn’t have ever needed to ask.

Indeed, Princess Celestia replied, “Naturally. Equestria is in good hooves in her care.”

Thus reassured, Moon Dancer set aside her worries. Princess Celestia hadn’t given up. It’d been silly to think otherwise for even a moment. She only expected to have her sister back once this was all over.

When Princess Celestia finished casting the next spell, Moon Dancer found a minor mistake, one no doubt caused by the distracting conversation. It would work perfectly in its current form, but if left unaltered, it would interfere with the placement of a few other enchantments later down the line. She explained the error using Twilight’s annotations as a guide and walked Princess Celestia through the corrections.





When Twilight finally settled down and realized everything had just been a very vivid dream, Pinkie Pie was already at her bedside, holding her hoof and whispering meaningless words of reassurance. While the physical proximity unsettled her somewhat, she was too emotionally exhausted to freak out as she had upon her arrival to Ponyville.

“Feeling better?” Pinkie Pie asked. She squeezed a little tighter with her hooves for a moment.

“I’m fine,” Twilight said. As Pinkie Pie already knew she had more skill with magic than she let on, she ran her telekinesis over her body and pulled off everything that wasn’t attached to her, which included both sweat and tears. It wasn’t the perfect replacement for a bath, but it served well enough. She then went ahead and disintegrated the filth before getting back into character. “Just a bad dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Index could choose no words less firm than, “Absolutely not.”

But it seemed that wasn’t quite the end of it. Pinkie Pie didn’t let go of her hoof and instead stared at her in the oddest way Index had ever seen. It had a certain intimidation about it in a creepy sort of way, but Pinkie Pie otherwise didn’t have the right presence to pull it off if indeed she was trying to force Index to speak.

“What are you doing?”

“Aw, I guess only Fluttershy can do the Stare.”

With that unexplained statement, Pinkie Pie fell to the ground. It only occurred to Index then to wonder how she’d been there to begin with. The balcony was on the opposite side of the bed, and the other side was just a straight drop-off. When Index peered over the edge, she found no support system of any kind in place, just Pinkie Pie moving about on the floor.

“How did–” Index cut herself off when she remembered who she was dealing with. There’s no way I’m getting a real answer out of her. About this or the ‘Stare’. She made a mental note to ask later after the latter if she ever ran into whoever Fluttershy was.

Distracted, Index made the mistake of meeting Pinkie Pie’s gaze when she looked up. “Are you really, super duper sure you don’t want to talk about it? One time my sister Marble was having these really bad nightmares, and they really started getting to her until one day she ended up in a mining accident and had to be rushed to the city to see a doctor. She has a permanent limp in her left leg now, but during her stay in the hospital, some ponies finally got her to talk about her problems, and then all the nightmares went away.”

“Yes, I’m sure. Just go back to be–” A stray thought occurred that, upon inspection, turned into a brilliant idea. Index had zero interest in psychoanalyzing the mess of a nightmare she’d just experienced, but while she had Pinkie Pie right here, there was something she wanted to ask. “Actually, you know everypony in town, right?”

“Yep-er-rooney. Even grumpy, old Cranky Doodle Donkey on the outskirts of town. He was a tough nut to crack. I had to find his long lost love to get him to finally admit to being my friend, and before that I went through this whole big shebang, and that’s not even–”

“Pinkie! Focus!” For her, Index felt that was a very restrained response.

Of course, rather than oblige or be in any way helpful, Pinkie Pie gasped. “I’m getting through to you! That’s the first time you called me as just Pinkie! Oh, Index, we’re going to be the best of friends. I just know it!”

One facehoof later, Index said, “Can you please stop going on tangents?”

“That hasn’t worked out well in the past. Like the pony before the last who asked me to do that – oh, I’m doing it already.”

“Just… Just try, I guess.” Index sighed in resignation. “I wanted to ask a favor of you. Could you come up with a list of ponies in town that exemplify a specific character trait? Like, say, kindness?”

Without missing a beat, Pinkie Pie replied, “Weeeell, if you’re looking for kind ponies, then you need look no further than Fluttershy. Of course, almost everypony in Ponyville is kind in one way or another when they’re not all tied up in knots. There’s Applejack, and Rose, and Rarity, and the Cakes, and–”

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” Index muttered to herself as Pinkie Pie droned on in the background. I guess she did focus in on that Fluttershy mare right away. I’ll prioritize following up on that today.

With that plan set, Index interrupted Pinkie Pie’s endless list of ponies. “I get the idea. Same question, then, but for generosity, loyalty, honesty, and laughter.”

Pinkie Pie gasped once more. This one was far and away the single most exaggerated gasp Index had ever heard, lasting longer than a pony should have had room for air in her lungs without practicing circular breathing. And now that she thought about it, Index would not put it past Pinkie Pie to learn that skill just to do nonsense like this.

On another note, Index had a bad feeling about Pinkie Pie’s reaction. She quickly threw up the standard series of privacy spells to make eavesdroppers mind their own business, finishing just in time.

Pinkie Pie transitioned from her gasp into a high-pitched squee. “I can’t believe it! You have the Elements of Harmony, don’t you!”

Bad feeling confirmed. Reluctantly, Index replied, “Yes. I suppose it doesn’t matter that you know so long as you do not spread that information around.” It would also help if she didn’t have to hide her plans from her roommate.

“Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” The strange promise concluded with Pinkie Pie actually sticking her hoof in her eye.

Index arched an eyebrow but let the odd act pass as just another quirk of a pony who, she suspected, wasn’t entirely compatible with this reality. “I have to ask,” she then said. “How did you know about them?”

A giggle met the question, and then Pinkie Pie said, “There’s a book on them in Golden Oaks Library. The Elements of Harmony: A Reference Guide.”

Index’s eye twitched. “Why! I emptied the Canterlot Archives of every reference and related work and found practically nothing. I dug through the entire restricted section. I even pulled from Celestia’s own library. Why is there a reference guide in this backwater!”

Rather than take offense, Pinkie Pie said, “Ponyville isn’t a backwater, silly. Practically every northbound train from the south and west passes through town.”

“I…” To her great lament, Index found she didn’t actually have a response for that. “Whatever. Do you happen to know if anypony else has read the book?”

Pinkie Pie hummed in thought. “Not likely. Nopony has checked it out in a few hundred years according to the log inside it.”

That little statement revealed, in the absence of a pure coincidence of timing, either a startlingly strong memory or that Pinkie Pie had somehow worked out how to improve her retention via her own magic. Both only added to the enigma. Photographic memory was rare, and mind magic was as far from trivial as a pony could get.

Unconcerned, Pinkie Pie continued on with her deep insights delivered as a ramble. “Which is odd ‘cause Ponyville isn’t even a hundred years old. Whoever the librarian before Rhyme was must have reused the log when the book was moved to Golden Oaks. We get a lot of old books from Canterlot, you know. You can tell by the musty smell they have.”

It was at this point that Index concluded that Pinkie Pie was actually a genius. Now she only needed to determine if the mare was obfuscating insanity or if Pinkie Pie had some sort of mental disorder. Her bits were on the latter.

“But who cares about that!” Pinkie Pie suddenly exclaimed. She rushed over to her wardrobe and started throwing clothes out until she shouted, “Eureka!” She then stepped inside the wardrobe – Index didn’t even care to contemplate how she fit at this point – and changed into a mismatch of clothes consisting of a deerstalker hat with pipe, a giant foam sword strapped to her back, and a black shinobi shōzoku from Neighpon.

That explained so much and yet created so many more questions.

Pinkie Pie put the pipe between her lips and blew into it. Bubbles came forth from the other end. As she indulged in this frivolous act, she put one hoof on her jaw and stroked it thoughtfully. “Yes, yes. This is a quest if ever I saw one, my dear Index. It will require cunning, stealth, and probably strength. Whether of mind, heart, or body, I do not know. But fear not! Pinkie Pie is here, and I shall help you bear this burden.”

Yeah, no. “The most helpful thing you could do is direct me towards ponies who could bond with an Element. The rest…” Index heaved a resigned sigh as she thought of the ordeal awaiting her. “The rest I need to deal with on my own.”

“Nonsense!” Pinkie Pie said, thrusting her sword out with a dramatic flair. “On a quest, you need a party with you–”

Index facehoofed.

“–and I guarantee that you won’t find a better party pony in Equestria. Oh! By the way, are you the bearer for the Element of Magic, or do you have a friend somewhere already working on the main quest line?”

Eyes closed, Index forced herself to run through Cadance’s breathing exercise, clear her mind, and ultimately release the urge to throw in the towel and teleport home. Why did I have to choose Ponyville? “Yes, Magic is mine, but there’s no adventuring that needs doing and thus no adventuring party that needs forming. If you’re looking for that sort of excitement, join the EIS.”

Her sword sagging sadly to the floor, Pinkie Pie responded, “No thanks. I mean, I’m sure their work is important and all, but I don’t think I could do it.” She paused, thoughtful for a moment, and blew more bubbles from her pipe. “You know, I don’t really know much about you. Everything you’ve told me could just be a cover. You could secretly be the best field agent in the history of Equestria! Ooh! Or this could all be an elaborate disguise. Maybe you’re a shapeshifter. Are you even a mare? Not that I mind sharing my room either way, of course. Hmm, but perhaps you’re not even a pony. You’re a spellcaster, so it’d have to be a unicorn-like species.”

Pinkie Pie suddenly leapt up to somehow perch herself on the edge of edge of the top bunk. There she locked eyes with Index and asked in a perfectly serious tone, “Are you a seapony?”

What did I do to deserve this? “No,” Index said flatly. “Just…no. I’m not a seapony. Neither hippogriffian nor the naturally occurring kind.” Not that the former had the right type of magic to qualify. “I don’t work for the EIS.” They worked for her. “And I assure you that I’m one hundred percent female.” She freely admitted she didn’t like being male regardless of species and avoided it whenever possible. “Nor am I a…”

It occurred to Index that few ponies even knew changelings existed, and the magic required to reshape the body was obscure and prohibitively difficult. It didn’t even show up that often in fiction. “Are you just throwing everything you’ve ever read about at the wall and seeing what sticks?”

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first shapeshifter to come to Ponyville.”

Index buried her first response and more evenly asked, “How do you know that?”

“Observation,” Pinkie Pie replied without a hint of deception. “At first I was like, ‘Wow, she must be going through a growth spurt or something,’ but then the changes happened again but in reverse, and everyday there’s these little minor differences, so I knew something was up. I asked around and heard about the polymorph spell from a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend who works in Princess Celestia’s school.”

That…is an impressive information network for a civilian. And she proves her observational skills once again. It was time to reevaluate Pinkie Pie’s role in this venture. She clearly had a lot to contribute and the inclination to do so. It didn’t matter in comparison to the stakes at risk if her personality grated or if she made Index feel vulnerable.

Thus Twilight teleported out of her covers past the obstruction in her way to the floor, where she deftly landed upright on her hooves. With a light application of magic, she rearranged a few of the furnishings in the room to provide her and Pinkie Pie with a table and cushions to have a serious conversation over tea. She then pulled the necessary equipment for brewing said tea from her bag of holding and invited Pinkie Pie to sit down.

“That was amazing!” Pinkie Pie said. For some reason, she vibrated rapidly as she did so.

Twilight conjured some mineral water to fill the teapot. As she adjusted its temperature independently of its container, she watched Pinkie Pie with a wary eye. “Are you well? You seem to be…oscillating.”

Her huge smile was answer enough, but Pinkie Pie added, “Never better!”

“Right…” Twilight would take her word for it. “Anyway, we need to have a proper conversation, and a friend of mine always insists on tea in these sorts of situations.” Come to think of it, Celestia hadn’t broken out the kettle at all since the subject of her sister had come up. That was a bit of a red flag. Hopefully Moon Dancer was proving to be good company for her.

As Twilight went about preparing the tea, a skill Celestia had successfully pounded into her skull despite her disinterest, she divided her thoughts and turned inward.

So, we’ve bought ourselves a respite, Overseer said. Let’s quickly decide what we think of Pinkie Pie.

Immediately, Advocate said, She’s insane.

Possibly, Opposition replied, but that’s not really the point. However much she leaves out and despite the leaps in logic she makes, her behavior and conclusions are directed and correct. She’s odd, yes, but so are we. Besides, that’s not really the right question. We need to decide what we want to do with her. After a moment, she added, You know, beyond tying her down to a lab table as an experimental subject.

As much as I hate to suggest it, we should fully bring her in if we can. She’s too useful to ignore.

Although Opposition agreed with the idea in principle, she asked, Can we trust her?

Advocate shrugged. If she meant any immediate harm for whatever reason, she could have planted a knife in our chest upon our first meeting.

A shudder ran through Twilight as she poured the tea in the real world. Maybe dealing with so many cultists, evil sorcerers, and the like had given her a bad case of paranoia, but being undercover, being without all of her magical defenses in place, it made her feel on edge. The presence of anypony she couldn’t swat like a bug with a thought, a category which she strongly suspected Pinkie Pie belonged to, only made the unease grow.

I suppose you have a point, Opposition admitted. We can defer ultimate judgment until the solstice draws near.

It was then that Advocate put forth a horrible idea. We could befriend her.

She’s our total opposite. It’s not going to work.

Why not? Advocate asked. She seems to want to be friends with everypony, and she seems like somepony useful to be friends with in return.

Pretty sure you’ve got the definition of friendship wrong, Opposition dryly remarked. The Elements, I’m sure, would disapprove.

While likely true, Twilight refused to be bound by some ancient set of magical artifacts’ code of conduct. If she was going to make a bunch of friends and harness the literal power of friendship into a magical rainbow of doom, she was going do it on her own terms.

Continuing from where she’d left off, Advocate said, It’s not like it would be hard, and Pinkie Pie seems like the forgiving type if we mess up. All we’d really have to do is tone down the impulse to lash out when she surprises us.

Opposition remained unmoved.

It costs us literally nothing to attempt, Advocate added. If we can’t score a win here on easy mode, we should find out now so we can go home and enjoy what time we have left with Celestia.

It came slowly and rather begrudgingly, but Opposition said, Fine.

So agreed and with tea in magic, Twilight took her place opposite Pinkie Pie at the table. “Sugar, I assume?” She’d hardly needed to wait for Pinkie Pie’s response to know to add a few lumps. It was perhaps not the wisest idea with the mare still twitching up a storm on occasion, but worse come to worst, she’d just cast a sleep spell and be done with it.

Twilight took her first sip of the tea. It was…passable. She’d brewed worse. When she set the cup down, she spoke. “So…Pinkie.” The mare in question interrupted with a quiet squee but calmed down, relatively speaking, quickly enough. “In taking advantage of your help, and more importantly your silence, I would be remiss not to be more honest with you. But before that, I’d like to know who the local polymorph is and how long you believe she’s been here.” Changelings typically didn’t make the kind of mistakes Pinkie Pie had described – they were biologically wired not to – and simple illusions were easy for anypony to spot when they didn’t sync properly with the target.

“Lyra Heartstrings,” Pinkie Pie replied, a questioning look quickly passing over her face. “She’s been here and her for six years, a season, and twenty-two days.”

Even expecting an more detailed answer than most ponies would give, Twilight still nearly choked on her tea. “That’s very accurate.”

“Thank you!”

“And suspicious,” Twilight added. It wasn’t all that unusual for a unicorn to modify small things they disliked about themselves longterm. For example, illusions which altered the color of a mane were well within reach of the skill level most unicorns possessed. Physical, full body changes, however, required exponentially more talent and raw power to maintain. In her experience, that indicated the subject had something to hide. Even deep cover EIS agents typically stuck to simpler spellwork, if any.

Pinkie Pie, as might have been expected, didn’t see it that way. “Lyra is super nice and my friend. She’s never done anything wrong.”

“We’ll see. I happen to have a meeting arranged with her” – Twilight briefly pulled a watch from her bag of holding – “tonight, so I’ll determine what action I need to take then.”

Although a frown met that compromise, Pinkie Pie accepted it without further protest.

“Now what questions do you have for me? I’m willing to answer most any relevant question.”

“Ooh, ooh, ooh!” Pinkie Pie flailed her hoof around in the air as if waiting to be called upon. “I want to know the big one! Who are you really?”

Twilight sighed. Might as well rip that bandage off right away. She melted her disguise, reshaping herself back into her base appearance. “Twilight Sparkle. I would introduce myself further, but I fear my reputation will precede me.”

Without warning, Pinkie Pie’s vibrations increased until she bounced a not insignificant fraction of her own height repeatedly off the ground. Her body contorted in a some strange way each hop, even swelling up like a balloon once before rapidly deflating back to normal.

“Uh…”

Unfazed by what had just happened – which led Twilight to, distressingly, conclude that it wasn’t unusual – Pinkie Pie said, “Oh my! I knew it was going to be a doozy, but this is so exciting! I want to throw you a proper welcome party soooo bad, but I can’t break a Pinkie Promise.”

“Wait, what?” This wasn’t how ponies usually reacted to coming face to face with Equestria’s archmage. “Do you actually have a good impression of me?”

“Of course! Everypony does. The half of town that doesn’t idolize you is in love with you.”

Twilight gaped. When she finally recovered the ability to speak, she only managed, “Well, that’s…new.”

“How is that new? It’s like that all over Equestria, silly!”

“That’s impossible.” She might not be the most socially gifted pony in Equestria, but she wasn’t blind. “Everypony I interact with is always terrified of me, nervous I’m going to do something awful to them, hates me, or reluctantly works for me.”

“Wow, you don’t get out much, do you?”

Despite herself, Twilight weakly shook her head.

“That explains so much. You and your brother are the shining–” There Pinkie Pie giggled. “–example of what the common pony can accomplish through merit instead of birthright. Everypony has read something about what you do for Equestria. For Celestia’s sake, you stand side by side with the princess herself at public events!”

All of Twilight’s muscles went lax as she struggled to process this strange new facet of reality. Her cup of tea fell out of her magic and crashed onto the table, but she repaired it and cleaned up after herself with barely a thought. Then, once her mind stopped glitching, she carefully sounded out, “You’re telling me I’m popular?”

“Yep!”

“That’s… I don’t… Please give me a minute to absorb that before you ask any more questions.”

“Take all the time you need,” Pinkie Pie replied. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”





It wasn’t the first time this had happened, but all three friends mourned the loss of their clubhouse nonetheless. Although it would never be the same, they would rebuild. They would always rebuild. If there was one thing they could do better than anypony else, it was to carry on in the face of failure. Their clubhouse would rise again greater than ever before as a reflection of the skills they’d gained over the past few seasons.

Three knocks of a gavel upon their temporary lectern, an old water barrel, broke their moment of silence. Then in a deep twang so common to the Apple family, Apple Bloom said, “I call this meeting of the Cutie Mark Crusaders to order. Seeing as the mayor is real upset with us and says we can’t do anything like our usual activities for the next few weeks–”

“It’s your fault,” Scootaloo accused, a glare in her eyes. “Your design didn’t work.”

Sweetie Belle’s eyes drifted to the still smoldering remains of their trebuchet nearby.

Holding up her hooves in apology, Apple Bloom said, “Now, now. I admit to being partially at fault, but my latest work worked just fine. I just forgot to account for the trees.”

“In other words,” Scootaloo said flatly, “it didn’t work.”

Apple Bloom’s eye twitched. “Well, who was the pegasus that went and messed up her glide?”

“Oh yeah? Well, who put a gouge in the sling-release mechanism?”

“Who dropped the payload on our clubhouse!”

“Who didn’t–”

“Girls, please.” Sweetie Belle stepped between her two friends who, by now, were muzzle to muzzle and pushed them apart. “At the end of the day, are we not all covered in tree sap?”

That managed to get a snicker out of them both, something which soon turned into full blown laughter. The two quickly apologized and made up. It was nopony’s fault. It was never anypony’s fault. Once that was over with, the meeting resumed.

“Does anypony have an idea for what we can do today?” Apple Bloom finally got around to asking.

“Yeah, I’ve got a bunch.”

With a nod, Apple Bloom said, “Go ahead and share, Scoots.”

“We could try stilts.”

“No!” It sounded harmless enough, but even if they kept getting into disaster after disaster, Sweetie Belle could learn from their mistakes. “Mayor Mare would put us under house arrest. Remember what happened with our pogo sticks?”

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo cringed in unison. That hadn’t been one of their better days. The former, however, made a weak attempt at a defense of her invention. “Hey, we get a whole bushel of funding from the royalties.”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo said, “but there’s a reason why they’re not popular in Ponyville.”

Disheartened, Apple Bloom admitted the point with a simple, “Fair.”

“We could try pet sitting,” Scootaloo offered.

Sweetie Belle had to shoot that idea down. “Rarity is allergic to most pets. If I came home covered in, well, anything but cat hair, she would have a conniption. Whenever Fluttershy comes over, she scrubs the entire boutique clean afterward.”

“How about mountain climbing, then?”

This time Apple Bloom objected with the obvious. “We don’t have a mountain to climb.”

“I guess. We could just read?”

“Really, Scoots?” Apple Bloom said with some incredulity. “Reading? Did Rainbow Dash pick up a book or something?”

Scootaloo folded her arms together in a huff. “Well, fine. If you’re going to be like that, never mind.”

Privately, Sweetie Belle said, I like reading. Granted, she mostly like to read about magic, which none of the other Crusaders would really benefit from, but that counted.

“I didn’t really want to anyways. I just thought we needed to expand our activities since none of us have gotten a cutie mark yet.” Scootaloo next offered, “How about making sweets?”

Apple Bloom, skeptical, said, “I’m rather more on the consumption side, myself. Besides, the Cakes’ and Bon Bon’s grub would be way better than whatever we can cook up.”

“Then I’m out of ideas.”

The two turned to Sweetie Belle. She, however, had nothing to give. “Sorry, but Rarity has needed my help around the boutique lately. I have nothing.” Her friends took that well. While she had the dubious privilege of actually having parents, like her friends, she knew how difficult life without them could be at times.

“All right,” Apple Bloom said. “How about we help my sister, then? Applejack was looking for some help with corralling the cows.”

Sweetie Belle thought for a moment. It might violate the spirit of what amounted to the parole the mayor had put them under, but they were just helping Apple Bloom’s sister. Surely that had to be allowed. She looked to Scootaloo. They nodded to each other, and then nodded to Apple Bloom in turn.

In unison, the three shouted their oft changing motto. “Cutie Mark Crusaders, corralers! Yay!”





Index had little time to ponder how much magic she should use to not die. Quickly, she settled on an old favorite and levitated herself several meters into the air. From that safe vantage point, she watched the disaster unfold below her in bemusement.

What on Equus is a stampede doing in town?

Upstream of the rampaging cattle, she saw three fillies, one of each pony tribe, desperately trying to stop, or at least redirect, the stampede. In the other direction at the front of the line, a fully grown orange earth pony mare was having much more success at averting damage to the town.

Hmm… Were she here as the archmage, Index could end this with a thought and then get on with her day without the distraction. Alas, she was not. There’s no way I can magic up an instant fix to this and not draw attention. Being a local hero might act as a social lubricant of sorts, but… I don’t know. It feels like too much. I’m not really looking for hero worship.

Index weighed the scales and settled on a compromise. She would let the mare at the head of the stampede handle the matter. She seemed competent. Index, meanwhile, would float along at a more relaxed pace and keep watch for trouble further down the line.

As the stampede appeared relatively cohesive, the cattle involved largely following the road through town, Index’s attention drifted to the three fillies attempting to help who were, very obviously, inexperienced and in the most danger.

Although now that Index took a closer look, the earth pony one was performing remarkably well. Her kicks to prod diverging cows back into line were well intertwined with her gallop. While she sported a little discolored flesh beneath her coat that looked likely to turn into a nasty bruise, she held her own. Beneath the mud accruing on her coat as she ran beside the road rather than on it, she bore a distinct resemblance to the mare at the front of the stampede.

Probably sisters. She’ll be fine.

The pegasus filly was keeping up, if nothing else. Almost all pegasi could fly at her age, but she’d chosen an odd combination of wings and scooter to move fast enough over the ground to be considered part of the stampede. She didn’t help much, but she was clearly trying her best.

Index cast a magnification spell to get a better look at the filly’s wings. Something about them seemed off.

Hmm… I’d need to perform a full examination to be sure, but her primary feathers look stunted. That would explain the scooter, I suppose. Index made a note to talk with the health care department when she had the time. She wasn’t an expert on wings, but such conditions should be manageable, if not outright curable. The occasional growth spell, at the very least, would allow her to generate enough lift for flight without straining herself.

Assuming the filly’s magic wasn’t crippled as well, of course. A shudder ran through Index at the thought. What a short, miserable life that would make for. Ponies were as much their magic as they were the flesh they walked around in, inseparable and indivisible. When one died, so too did the other. In most cases, the flesh was the first to wear down, but there were exceptions.

Shaking off such morbid thoughts, Index turned to look upon the unicorn filly. She was doing…less well than her friends – far less well. Not that it was any surprise, given the respective advantages of each tribe, but she was clearly the least athletic of the trio. It didn’t help that ponies were made for sprinting and cows for endurance. She panted for breath as she struggled to keep pace with the adult bovines moving at their full gallop.

Much to Index’s interest, however, the filly wore roller skates powered by both muscle and magic. A hint of a smile pulled at her lips. Clever. Reminds me a bit of myself when I was young and innocent.

After a time, the unicorn filly looked up and noticed Index floating overhead. Eyes wide, she stumbled over a dip in the road in her surprise. She twisted her head as she fell to bring the stampede threatening to crush her into view. Rather than cast a spell or take evasive action, however, her arms moved to protect her head and neck.

Good instincts, but they need a little refining.

Reacting immediately, Index plucked the filly from the ground before any harm could come to her. Held suspended in midair, she had her eyes closed and her arms covering her neck to supplement the protection her helmet offered. It wasn’t the worst move she could have made. She probably would have survived if the stampede ran her over, but she likely wouldn’t have escaped unscathed. Some part of Index wondered what she got up to for this to be her natural first reaction to danger. Ponies as a species tended more toward panic and flight when untested.

A few seconds passed before the filly cautiously lifted her head. Surprisingly, she froze rather than flailed but wore a terrified look on her face all the same as she stared at the passing herd below her and spoke some voiceless words between heavy breaths. Before too long, Index drew near enough to hear her over the stampede.

“–please, oh please, don’t let me fall mysterious floating magic. Thank you for saving me, but–”

“You’re welcome,” Index said.

Startled, the filly’s head shot up.

“Relax. I won’t drop you. You’re safe.” Index pulled her prize up to eye level. “Luckily enough. This seems like something you should have left to your friends.”

When the filly’s surprise finally passed, she shouted out between slowing gasps for air, “Thank you so much! I was so scared that was going to be the end of me.”

“No need to thank me. It did look like I distracted you to begin with.” As Index said this, she cast a subtle little spell to help the filly regain her breath that passed unnoticed beneath her telekinesis.

“Well, this stampede is kind of, sort of, a little bit our fault…”

Index arched an eyebrow but didn’t inquire further. Instead, she shifted their relative positions to set the filly down on her back. She then dropped her magical grip on the filly to give the calming illusion of a simple ride on her back. It seems I finally get to experience the other side of this conversation. She’s not as young as I was, but no matter.

“You don’t need to worry about that right now,” Index said assuringly. “I know how scary near death experiences can be. Whatever part you played in this, just forget about it for now.”

The filly said nothing to indicate the message had sunk in but asked, “Where are we going?” Now that she’d settled down and had her breath back, she spoke with an affected Canterlot accent. It wasn’t exactly wrong, per se, but she’d clearly never spent a day of her life in the capital. Index politely chose not to comment and answered her question.

“Well, as I’ve already gotten involved, I might as well make sure nopony else gets into any trouble. Your friends will probably worry when they realize you’re missing, too, so I figured I’d give you a lift along the way.”

“Whoa! You’re like a hero!”

“Like?” Index felt she deserved more than a like.

“You are a hero! Even cooler than Archmage Twilight!”

Index’s eye twitched at the mention of her real name. She’d thought she’d made peace with her alleged popularity after Pinkie Pie had gone back to bed, but it seemed all evidence – what little there was to be had – was to the contrary.

“You…like the archmage?”

“Who would not?” the filly replied with the kind of dreamy quality that only came from a foal who’d never met her hero. “I mean, I heard she has a temper, but she is the most amazing unicorn in the world!”

“What happened to me?”

“Oh, uh, except for you, of course.”

Index rolled her eyes. This filly certainly wouldn’t be getting the Element of Honesty.

“And my big sister. Hmm… No, just you. Rarity is too prissy and scared of getting her hooves dirty. She’s far too prim and proper.”

I see. Well, that explains the affected accent. Ugh. And here I thought I’d left Canterlot behind. Regardless, Index knew precisely how to progress this conversation now. “I saw what you were doing with your roller skates back there. That’s pretty impressive yourself.”

“Thanks!” the filly chirped warmly. “I came up with that a few weeks ago so I could keep up with Scootaloo and Apple Bloom.”

Index paled. Oh, no. She’d gotten names but not descriptions. I’m trying to tutor a Crusader. She chanced a hesitant backward glance at what must be their third member and saw exactly what she expected. Sweetie Belle wore a huge grin which perfectly mirrored her own when she’d been that age and spoke of magic. Although she feared what agent of chaos she might unleash upon the world, she couldn’t say no to that.

“That makes you the third Crusader, Sweetie Belle, right?”

An enthusiastic, “Uh-huh!” met the question.

“Have you been studying magic long?”

“For years. Ever since my sister brought home a copy of 103 Spells Every Unicorn Should Know from Canterlot.”

Index’s ears perked up at the title. Ponies actually read that? Huh. Maybe it hadn’t been such a waste of time to write that textbook for Celestia’s school. “How many spells have you learned from it?”

“Only the easier ones,” Sweetie Belle replied, the disappointment in herself evident in her voice. “I’ve learned other spells, too, but… Well, Ponyville is an earth pony town.”

It was, sadly, an imperfect education system that existed in Equestria. “Do you not have magic kindergarten here?” Index asked. “Flight camp?” When she received negatives to both questions, she let out a displeased hum. It didn’t come as some great shock given the local demographics, but it disappointed her all the same.

Regardless, she’d not come here to institute rural educational reforms. Index asked, “So how many spells have you learned in total?”

Index felt Sweetie Belle sit a little taller before she proudly proclaimed, “I have but six left before I reach one hundred.”

To the claim, Index returned an impressed hum. She’s about…ten…eleven, maybe, years old. Shining, I think, is sitting at around a thousand. Mom and Dad are only a bit past a hundred. The average unicorn isn’t even half that. Not bad. I think I see a magic focused cutie mark in her future. She snorted to herself. But no wonder she’s a Crusader. Those are hard enough to get in the best of circumstances, and her environment certainly isn’t doing her any favors.

After reminding herself to be careful not to slip into the first person, Index said, “You can color me impressed. Is your goal to be like the archmage, then?” How strange those words felt to utter.

“Yeah! I know I’ll likely never even meet her, but my sister always says to dream big.”

“You could become a singularly easily reformed supervillain. You’d get her attention and probably a job offer.” Index regretted the joke the moment she’d made it. With the stories Pinkie Pie had told her about the Cutie Mark Crusaders, Sweetie Belle might actually take the suggestion seriously and follow through. She twisted her head around to stare her passenger in the eye and emphatically commanded, “Don’t.”

Sweetie Belle looked far too contemplative for Index’s liking. “But what if–”

“Don’t.” Index turned her eyes back onto the stampede below her and breathed deep to calm herself. She would not be responsible for creating a mess so easily avoidable. “Look, I know the archmage, okay?”

A moment after Sweetie Belle gasped, she lunged forward, an excited bounce in her frame, to wrap her hooves around Index’s neck and cried, “You do?”

“Yeah.” What exactly did I tell Cheerilee again? Oh, right. “I do odd jobs for her and the princess. We also went to magic kindergarten together.”

“Whoa,” Sweetie Belle whispered in awe. “What was she like?”

“Eh, asocial. Completely uninterested in everypony else. Her passion was magic even then. That’s not the point. Let’s bring this back to what we were discussing before we got sidetracked. How many spells do you think she knew at that age?”

Sweetie Belle considered the question and made all sorts of odd humming noises in the process. “It must either be really low or really high for you to be asking.” After a few more seconds, she guessed, “A thousand?”

“Well, you went in the right direction, but if you asked her directly, she would tell you, ‘I don’t know.’”

“I guess I’d lose track if I knew that many spells too.”

Index shook her head. “You misunderstand. You’re not wrong, but that’s not the reason she would give you. Tell me, have you ever invented your own spell?”

“No. Inventing spells is really hard without inspiration from your special talent.”

“Bah!” Twilight said, slipping out of character for a moment. While valuable insights could come from such spells, they were gifts hoofed over on a silver platter to their ‘inventors’. Neither science nor even true understanding played any part in the process. Checking herself before she destroyed her masquerade, Index added, “The archmage was already doing it in magic kindergarten without a cutie mark. On the fly even.”

“What!”

“Granted, most of her creations either failed outright or blew up in her face until…” Index cleared her throat. “Never mind. Not important. That, too, is not the reason she would give you. She knew plenty of spells. She could invent more as needed. Yet neither of these explains her response. I hope that lends weight to the wisdom I’m about to impart to you.”

“Of course,” Sweetie Belle said as solemnly as an eager filly could.

“Then this is what she would say.” Index paused for effect and felt Sweetie Belle draw unconsciously closer. “Every spell has a thousand uses and every use has a million spells which fulfill it. I don’t know a number high enough to estimate how many spells I know because, by the way you count spells, every one I know is worth more than all of the ones you know put together.”

Now that they were out of Ponyville, Index blindly followed the sound of the stampede and turned her gaze back to Sweetie Belle. Trying to imitate Celestia as best as she could, she asked, “Do you understand the meaning?”

“I think so…” Haltingly, Sweetie Belle put her thoughts into words. “Basically, she’s saying that spells have more than one use.”

“And one spell used wisely…” Index prompted when Sweetie Belle faltered.

A moment passed, and then Sweetie Belle’s eyes widened. “–is better than a thousand used poorly. So what she really values is…creativity?”

“Exactly!”

Sweetie Belle’s excitement and wide smile turned into sudden panic. “Watch out for that–”

Index turned away from Sweetie Belle to check in front of her and immediately face planted into an apple tree.

“…tree,” Sweetie Belle finished once they’d hit the ground. “Are you all right?”

“Peachy.” The good news was that the stampede had slowed down outside Ponyville, so Index hadn’t hit the tree as fast as she could have. The bad news was magic couldn’t heal her pride. She had half a mind to throw subtlety to the wind and restore all of her defensive enchantments. This village clearly had it out for her. At least they hadn’t been trampled in the interim with a solid barrier behind them. The tree was good for something, it seemed.

Sweetie Belle dismounted and ran a semicircle about Index. Standing upright on her legs, she inspected the forming bruise just above Index’s nose and then the scrape on her forehead.

“I said I’m fi–”

Sweetie Belle’s magic swelled, and Index felt the bruise heal. The spell had been well formed and executed with a practiced horn. A few moments later, she attempted to heal the scrape with equal skill, but Index dispelled the magic before it took effect.

To Sweetie Belle’s confused look, Index said, “I’m young and healthy like you and your friends, but an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.” She then walked her temporary protégé through a disinfectant spell. Sweetie Belle learned delightfully quickly with an expert at hoof to guide her, and soon, it was done. A second spell right after healed the now cleaned scrape.

“Good work,” Index said. “I take it you Crusaders injure yourselves often?”

Sweetie Belle nodded. “When we first met, we got in a lot of trouble…” She pursed her lips together. “Well, we still get in a lot of trouble. But back then we got in a lot of trouble for coming home hurt. I learned some healing magic so our guardians would stop scolding us.”

‘Guardians’? The next time she stopped by town hall, Index resolved to find out if Ponyville’s flag was just a big red flag. “Nice initiative,” she said when nothing more appropriate leapt to mind.

Sweetie Belle absorbed the praise like a bone-dry sponge.

Exactly how starved is she for a magical authority figure in her life?  Sweetie Belle really needed to find an education before some unicorn with less than noble intentions found her. “How about some homework?”

It was a cautious optimism which met the question. It’d caught Sweetie Belle’s interest, certainly, but presumably only if it wasn’t boring or tedious.

A smirk crept onto Index’s face. She could work with that. “Take a spell you know. Any will do, but no medical spells. Those have nasty side effects when used improperly. Anyway, take that spell and think of thirty nonstandard ways you can use it. Don’t expect it to be easy. Come find me once you’re done. I’m staying with Pinkie Pie at Sugarcube Corner. Ask for Index Code.”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

Index approved of the alacrity on display. Nodding, she turned her gaze from Sweetie Belle to the direction the stampede had left in. “Do you need an escort the rest of the way, or will you be fine catching up to your friends on your own?”

“I’ll be fine. Apple Bloom’s home is close by.”





“Now I know you were just trying to help, sugarcube, but what you did was the plumb opposite.”

“Eeyup,” Big Macintosh agreed with Applejack.

Apple Bloom sighed. “I know, Sis. We were trying, honest, but…stuff happened.”

Of course, that fell on deaf ears. Applejack gave Apple Bloom a look that promised a further talking to later. Then she looked around with furrowed brows. “Where’s Sweetie Belle gone off to? Rarity will be awful sore with us if we lost her.” Raising her voice, she called out for the absent Crusader.

“I’m coming!” The filly in question approached from far off on the path to the corral, skating gently along at a casual pace.

“Well, that’s something, at least,” Applejack muttered.

When she finally arrived, Sweetie Belle said, “Hey, everypony. How did the rest of the corralling go?”

“It went just fine, sugarcube, but it shouldn’t of been necessary to begin with.”

Apple Bloom remained willfully ignorant to the look her sister gave her and went over to Sweetie Belle, inspecting her for any sign of injury. “You’re all right, right? I saw you were tiring mighty fast, but the whole town could of been in trouble if I didn’t stick with the herd.”

“I understand. I did almost die” – everypony gasped – “but I was saved by the nicest, smartest, most amazing pony I have ever met!”

“Rainbow Dash?” Scootaloo asked, joining the circle.

Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes in answer.

“I’d like to know myself,” Applejack said. “The Apple family will need to thank whoever it was something fierce. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for ya when you need me.”

“Eeyup.”

“Her name is Index Code. She’s the overseer for the festival, I think.” Sweetie Belle sounded a little unsure on that last point until Applejack confirmed it for her.

“Even if she saved you, there’s no way she’s cooler than Rainbow Dash.”

“Oh, Scootaloo. We shall forever have different definitions of cool. What a cruel divide this makes in our friendship. Perhaps if we never argue over it again, we may pretend that the very fates themselves do not conspire against us.”

“Whoa, turn down the Rarity, Sweetie Belle.”

Both Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle laughed at the reaction. Applejack proved unable to resist a private chuckle, and even the ever stoic Big Macintosh’s eyes lit with mirth.

“So,” Apple Bloom began. She was curious what about this mysterious pencil pusher had gotten Sweetie Belle’s attention. “I get that she saved you and all, but what exactly makes her so amazing?”

“Well, first of all, she knows the archmage.”

Apple Bloom shared a groan with Scootaloo.

“Anyway,” Sweetie Belle continued pointedly, “she gave me a magic lesson right after she saved me. It was brilliant! Practically straight from Twilight Sparkle herself!”

“I see…” Applejack said with a distinctly nervous inflection. “And what spell exactly did she teach you?”

“It wasn’t just one spell but ninety-four thousand!” Sweetie Belle proclaimed with pride.

Out of the corner of her eye, Apple Bloom saw her big sister and big brother grow pale. Amusing, yes, but as excited as she was for her friend, something felt off. “I don’t get it. How did she teach you that many spells in just a few minutes?”

“Well,” Sweetie Belle began, “it was more a lesson about creativity than spellcasting. She did teach me a disinfectant spell, but the lecture was infinitely more important. I’m one giant leap closer to the archmage now!”

“If you say so, sugarcube,” Applejack said. “Now about this whole stampede business.”

All three Crusaders groaned in harmony.





The Golden Oak Library was small by most standards and minuscule in comparison to the Canterlot Archives, but it had a certain rustic charm about it. Somepony had gone to a lot of effort to turn a still living tree into a habitable structure. The magic behind it must have been intricate and fascinating. Someday Index would have to get her hooves on it.

She was just about to open the library door when it slammed into her face and knocked her onto the ground. Index fell heavily onto her rear with a grunt, her poor abused muzzle protesting its rough treatment. When she recovered from her daze, she cried, “Why!” to the heavens. What had she ever done to Ponyville to deserve this? Why was everypony in this insufferable village crazy?

On the library’s doorstep stood a cloaked electric blue pony. A faint rustling underneath the cloak marked its wearer as a pegasus.

“Sorry about – oh, you’re fine.” By the sound of the voice, the cloaked figure was female and approximately Index’s real age. “Whatever. Still sorry. I was never here.” With that abrupt apology, she pulled her hood further down over her face and ran off into the wide and not very concealing alleys of Ponyville.

Yep. Crazy. Index got to her hooves and set about cleaning her coat off with a little application of magic. She could have at least done a better job of concealing her identity. Rainbow manes are incredibly rare. If she were so inclined, it would be simplicity itself to track down the mare.

Once clean, Index levitated her saddlebags from where they’d fallen, pleased to find that they’d not landed in the mud, and returned them to her back. She’d taken them from her bag of holding on the walk back into town to carry books, but little had she known the dangers that had awaited her.

Index laughed to herself at her little bit of dramatic internal dialogue as she entered the library. There were less books than she’d imagined. While she knew that the upper floors served as living space for the librarian, she’d still expected a larger collection. This was, after all, the library which housed a work as obscure and esoteric as The Elements of Harmony: A Reference Guide. It made her wonder what other books were in stock. Knowing Ponyville, she had no doubt the collection would be eclectic and eccentric.

The librarian, Rhyme, stood behind the counter filling out a few forms which likely pertained to the pegasus who’d bumped into Index. She seemed normal at first blush. She was a unicorn. There was nothing unusual about that. The blue color of her mane and tail didn’t stand out either. Her coat was a deep purple, and although ponies tended more toward pastels, that wasn’t particularly odd. Her cutie mark was a sheet of paper with a quill. Again, not strange. But one detail in particular floored Twilight.

That’s my manecut! Or my…not manecut. Twilight just snipped a flat line off whenever it obscured her vision without much care for how it looked. Moon Dancer, she recalled, used to do the same. But it was the principle of the matter! Curse you, Pinkie Pie. This is your fault. If you hadn’t said anything, I’d have remained blissfully oblivious to these sorts of things for the rest of my life.

“Can I help you?”

Twilight forced herself back into character, tried her best not to show that anything was bothering her, and broke off her incredulous stare. As Index approached the desk, she pulled a manila folder from her bag and floated it over to the librarian. “I’m running an errand for the Canterlot Archives while I’m in town. They want to acquire a book from this library and asked me to see to it.”

Rifling through the documents, Rhyme hummed in thought. “Well, this all seems in order, but The Elements of Harmony: A Reference Guide? Do I even have a book by that name? One moment, please.” Rhyme set the folder down and went to search the shelves. “Let’s see… A… B… C… D… E… El…e…ments–”

Index’s eye twitched. That was not how libraries were sorted. She told herself, It’s just Ponyville. Don’t fight the madness.

“Aha! Here we are. The Elements of Harmony: A Reference Guide. Hmm… Oh! I think Pinkie checked this out a few years ago. Who knows what gets into that mare’s head.” The librarian opened the cover to glance at the log. “But nopony before her, I see.”

Rhyme walked back behind her desk. She pulled out a few forms from the drawers and quickly filled them out. Once done, she looked up and pushed them across to Index.

“If you’d just sign these at the bottom. All right, then. You take the yellow copy, and I keep the other two. Do you want me to mail the book, or will you be delivering it?”

Stashing the reference guide in her saddlebag, Index replied, “I can take care of it. Thanks.”

“No problem. Need anything else?”

Index declined the offer and left the library. Part of her wanted to explore its shelves, but the larger part of her didn’t want to know what Ponyville considered essential reading. As soon as she was outside and out of sight of the library, she pulled the book from her saddle bags and began reading. It only took a few seconds before she paused, surprised, and then started flipping through the rest of it.

Page after page was filled with trivial details Index already knew or illustrations. There was nothing hoofwritten in, no concealing spells placed upon the book, and as far as she could tell, there were no secret chemical stains to uncover and turn into readable text. Alas, her knowledge of the mystery genre had let her down again. She had no idea why this red herring was in Ponyville, but that was a mystery that would wait for another day.

Well, that was a wash.
> Chapter Five - The Dishonest
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Showers of sparkles appeared across the world.





If a unicorn cared two bits to study a field outside magic and their special talent during their education, they would discover the wonderful world of physics. If a unicorn went a bit further, they would find that the most basic tenet of the illusion school of magic was altering the wavelength of photons passing through a magical field according to some predefined rule. If a unicorn actually cared about what they were studying, they would discover the non-visible spectrum and perhaps contemplate its possible applications.

Of course, this meant that less than one percent of unicorns ever got that far. Earth ponies and pegasi typically studied nature in far greater detail than the tribe which could alter aspects of reality they found displeasing with a thought, but it mattered not, for earth ponies and pegasi were blind to the flow of magic.

Index stood far outside the home Bon Bon shared with the supposed Lyra Heartstrings, pretending to search her saddle bags for something with an deep frown on her face. Her horn did not glow, or at least not with any visible light. She had other and better ways to hide her spell casting, but the simplest illusion charm taught as early as magic kindergarten drew only a trickle of power and required almost no concentration to maintain. It was perfect for maintaining a low profile when inspecting a ward system at a distance in public.

What the hay? As Index probed deeper into the suspiciously sophisticated wards surrounding Bon Bon’s house, she only grew more confused. This ‘Lyra Heartstrings’, or whatever her real name is, is watching for…something aquatic? Why? Ponyville is one of the most landlocked municipalities in Equestria. What could she possibly be on the lookout for?

Index shook her vexation off. It was Ponyville. Maybe some lake monster had attacked the town or something. She had a more important question on her mind anyway.

Why are these wards so subtle and elaborate? I thought I was dealing with some run-of-the-mill sorceress with delusions of grandeur, but she must be at least half as skilled as I am. What is this pony doing in – oh, ponyfeathers.

Having accidentally tripped an alarm, Index had a few options. She could lay in wait and observe Lyra Heartstrings’s response. She didn’t like being on the defensive, but it would give her some insight into her target’s character. She could smash the wards outright and advance. It would be in keeping with her usual approach when she didn’t have time to more carefully unravel them. Or, since none of them appeared designed to do harm, she could go knock on the front door and see what happened.

Eh, whatever. Index hoisted her bags back into place and made for the door at a casual pace as she recast the basic enchantments necessary for high-level combat. Worst case scenario, I revert to plan B.

A few moments after Index knocked, Bon Bon opened the door. They exchanged greetings, and the latter invited her inside. Wary, she watched for ambushes and readied herself for trouble. Naturally, she kept her caution from Bon Bon, but the other mare appeared oblivious regardless.

“Minuette couldn’t join us tonight, unfortunately. Sorry about the last minute notice, but I have dinner ready if you’re interested. If you still want to hang out, I could set up the projector for a film or something.”

“That sounds great.” Taking an offered seat in the dining table, Index asked, “And Lyra Heartstrings?”

“She completely forgot to tell me that she was heading out to play a concert tonight. She didn’t say when she’d be back.”

Ah. She ran away.

“She went right out the door with her lyre in a huge rush. I hope she wasn’t late. Celestia knows she could use the work.”

“I see.” Index tossed a significant glance at the table set for three. “And how long ago was that?”

“Just a few minutes ago, actually. I hope you’re hungry.”

“I suppose so, although could you tell me where your bathroom is? I’d like to wash up first.”

“Certainly.” Bon Bon extended her hoof towards a small hallway that lead out of the kitchen and further into the house. “Just follow that hall until it turns right. Then it’s the first door on the left.”

Index thanked Bon Bon and headed off. The moment she turned the corner, she abandoned magical stealth and performed a wide area scan for any recent teleports.

Aha! Found you. Let’s see here. The destination is…concealed. Can’t say I wasn’t expecting that. How much power did you put into it? Hmm, maybe enough for a town wide jump, judging by the residue. If you’re even half as good as I think you are, no doubt you’ll have obfuscation on tracking magic as well. So assuming I can find you without breaking out the heavy duty stuff, where are you? Ran away… Short jump…

Index built up power for a teleportation block and held it ready for her arrival.

Train station it is, then.

Twilight dispelled her polymorph. If she was going to engage in a high-level magical duel, she certainly wouldn’t be doing so as Index Code. She briefly considered adopting another disguise to help maintain her cover, but Index already had a connection to her on the grapevine. It wouldn’t be too strange for her pseudo-assistant to summon her for one reason or another. She did polymorph into herself, however, as a standard precaution. If she were to be injured, she’d much rather it be in a form she could easily shed.

A short range teleport brought Twilight above the train station with a partial view below. A second one placed her safely onto the platform itself. A surprised gasp came from behind her, and she whirled, firing her stored teleportation block, only to come face to face with Vinyl Scratch. Neither pony moved. Then a quick but cautious check revealed that it was the real one.

“Uh, hey.” Vinyl gave a half-hearted wave in greeting.

Oh. Right. I know ponies in this town. Horseapples. Twilight awkwardly cleared her throat. “Sorry,” she said as she removed the block from Vinyl, not that it really mattered for somepony who couldn’t teleport. “I’m looking for a pony last seen impersonating Lyra Heartstrings. Any help?”

“Yeah, she–”

Twilight followed Vinyl’s gaze to catch the tail end of a teleport not too far away. It was hastily executed and easy to track. Without another word, she vanished, chasing after her target. When she didn’t find Lyra Heartstrings after one jump, she paused a moment to prepare another block and then continued the chase. With the delay, it took her a few minutes to catch up.

A series of flower pots fell from the sky. They deflected harmlessly off Twilight’s enchanted body, but the nonmagical attack took her completely by surprise. Guard raised, she spun toward the direction they’d come from only for a surge of magic to break a tree branch on her from behind. It didn’t hurt, but it did stagger her.

Casting blindly, Twilight fired off her stored teleport block in the direction the magic had come from. She caught a hint of aquamarine from the corner of her eye, the exact shade of Lyra Heartstrings’s coat, before it blinked out of existence leaving only a few golden bubbles behind floating in the air.

Twilight made careful note of her target’s teleport signature in the unlikely event she needed it. Then with the end point of the teleport emerging right behind her, she bucked hard enough to tear flesh and shatter bones with a little extra magic to pierce barriers. The reward for her effort was a dull splash the sounded more like a gulp as her hind hooves sunk slowly into a viscous liquid. The liquid, whatever it was, burned and started to crush her legs.

Twilight, naturally, reflexively teleported out of the liquid’s grasp and reoriented herself during the trip to face her assailant. Not too far away sat a strange blob of watery tendrils so clear and with such a low index of refraction as to be nearly invisible. Lyra Heartstrings floated at its core, horn glowing a bright gold. She moved her legs with purpose, presumably exerting some kind of control over the conjuration.

Well, that’s different.

There was no time to dissect and disassemble the new magics in front of her. The tendrils lashed out at Twilight from all directions, some with large swooping arcs presumably meant to bludgeon or grasp her while others thrust like spears.

Twilight blinked out of the way, reappearing nearby unharmed and away from any immediate followup attacks. Or at least that had been the plan. Lyra Heartstrings had teleported in the interim to who knew where. With her target out of sight, she relocated herself to a rooftop for a better view on reflex rather than idling in place and waiting for an attack to come or for her opponent to slip away.

But this proved a mistake. Lyra Heartstrings had expected that reaction. Almost immediately, a thick liquid spike pierced Twilight’s enchantments and ran all the way through her leg.

Twilight snapped, her patience utterly spent over the past couple days. Her vision went red. Her coat faded to white. Her mane and tail ignited.

Hissing in pain, Twilight sent a brute force counterspell at the offending tendril in her leg. The affected part vanished into nothing while the remainder retreated and reformed. She did the same to everything else that came her way as she fully enchanted herself for battle. It was a terrible waste of magic, but it never failed to strike terror in her enemies.

Twilight took a step forward. “Surrender. Now.”

This failed to have the desired effect. Lyra Heartstrings, eyes wide, teleported away.

With a hungry grin, Twilight followed after. The moment she reappeared, she launched toward her enemy at a blistering speed. Her scrying spells linked into a heuristic filter filled her head with all relevant information she needed to effectively have a volumetric awareness of her surroundings. She weaved through Lyra Heartstrings’s strange fighting style, dodging attacks coming at her from every direction and more frequently the closer she drew. Once, she blinked out of an attempt to fully engulf her in the liquid and then pressed forward without delay.

Soon enough, Lyra Heartstrings built up her magic and formed it into another teleport. She clearly didn’t like to fight at close range. Twilight fired off a block before she could finish. Unfortunately, it only stopped a tiny portion of the liquid from leaving.

Twilight clicked her tongue. Roughly speaking, most magics affected what their caster identified as a contiguous subject, but it seemed Lyra Heartstrings had managed to create an amorphous spell construct that operated coherently in distinct, independent blobs. If she weren’t so infuriated, she’d call it genius. Punching through it to get to her target would require actual effort.

After successfully making the approach to melee range again, Twilight conjured a spear of ice and thrust it into the blob. Lyra Heartstrings fought her for every inch, forcing her to put distance between them but not breaking her focus on her telekinetic grip.

They then entered into a direct contest of wills and magic, one attempting to dispel or at least melt the spear while the other fought to keep it in existence. As might have been expected from her ability to teleport her blob around, Lyra Heartstrings proved perfectly capable of channeling her magic through her construct without having to open a hole internally to let her magic pass through it.

Even so, Twilight got what she wanted when the spear finally connected with Lyra Heartstrings’s body. It didn’t have even nearly enough energy to pierce unenchanted skin, so of course it did nothing. But then it didn’t need to.

Twilight, protections against heat already in place, took the risk of teleporting in close to her spear. When she wasn’t immediately punished for the momentary delay it took her to regain her bearings, she enacted her plan. Sublimating her spear created a burst of steam and, with it, a hole in the blob which only widened with the sudden pressure.

Lyra Heartstrings realized what had happened a moment too late. Twilight took the shot. She first fired off a quick and dirty piercing spell to poke a temporary hole in any enchantments Lyra Heartstrings had active on her own person. Twilight then followed that up with a lightning spell to render her unconscious. It may have been a bit overkill, but it certainly felt satisfying.

It was also safer to put Lyra Heartstrings down harder, of course. Each subsequent opening would be more difficult to make as she learned and adapted. But it was mostly for the satisfaction.

Twilight breathed deep, wary of a trap but exultant in her victory, as her opponent fell to the ground. The blob had vanished without an active source of magic to sustain it. Then as time was a potential factor, she burned through a ton of magic to brute force dispel any enchantments lingering on Lyra Heartstrings, including the polymorph spell which had originally drawn her attention.

Well, that…explains a lot, actually.

After a quick search for any magical artifacts that would have survived the counterspell she’d used, Twilight reapplied the polymorph for now and then affixed a magic suppressor from her bag of holding onto Lyra Heartstrings’s horn, locking it into place with a spell. To avoid any potential awkward situations, she placed a simple illusion upon it to render it invisible to the naked eye. Then on second thought, she added two more suppressors to be careful. She could overload four herself – five if she really pushed herself and accepted the resulting thaumic burns – and felt three in total was the correct number in this case. With that, the ‘unicorn’ would be helpless and have no way of knowing that the polymorph magic active on her was no longer her own. She would probably assume otherwise, but Twilight first wanted to see how she behaved without knowing her secret was blown.

As the adrenaline coursing through her wore off, Twilight returned to her normal self. It wasn’t something the family spoke of much, but they had some kirin blood in them on their mother’s side. They fortunately didn’t suffer from the full nirik transformation, but, well, they did try to watch their tempers. The moderate fire immunity did help with raising Spike, though, so it wasn’t all bad.

Twilight shifted her weight and immediately regretted it. Right, gaping hole in leg. She’d been doing her best to stay off it during the fight with significant success, one of the many advantages to being a quadruped no matter what Spike claimed about opposable claws. She quickly undid her own polymorph, a relieved sigh escaping her as the wound melted away along with the magic.

With all that done, Twilight took a moment to relax. It’d been an intense few minutes. In all honesty, this had probably been the toughest fight she’d ever had outside of Celestia, Chrysalis, and maybe Shining. She’d not been prepared for it, but now that it was over, she felt foolish for expecting anything less. This was Ponyville, after all.

I am so tempted to order this place razed to the ground after the solstice. I’ve been here for two days. I dread what I’ll have gone through in two weeks, let alone two whole moons. A resigned sigh escaped Twilight. Oh well. That’s Future Me’s problem. I should get back to work. Bon Bon will be expecting me.

Twilight hit Lyra Heartstrings with a spell to bring her around. A pained groan escaped her, and she awoke in a daze almost immediately after. Her first instinct to such, it seemed, was to start casting magic. Admirable and not unexpected, but also not wholly appropriate in this case.

“Ow, my horn,” Lyra Heartstrings moaned. As she sat upright, she asked, “What happened?” Looking around, she completely failed to recognize the scenery. The fight had quickly drifted outside of town into the countryside. “Where in the deep depths am I?” Another – apparently stronger – attempt at magic had similar effects to the last. A string of muttered curses followed.

“That’s what you get for trying to use magic with three suppressors on your horn.”

Lyra Heartstrings jumped to her hooves and spun on Twilight. “You! I remember no – ow! Ow, ow, ow!”

“Let me repeat myself. Three. Suppressors. You won’t be casting anything while they’re on. I was going to be nice about this. I stumbled upon you entirely by accident, after all, but then you had the gall to attack me. Me. Do you know who I am?”

The nervous gulp was answer enough, really, but Lyra Heartstrings said, “Archmage Twilight Sparkle.”

“Quite. Since your judgment is impaired enough to think that was in any way a good idea, we’re going to have to do this the hard way.”

But before Twilight even had to do anything, Lyra Heartstrings broke. “Wait! Wait, please, I’ll cooperate. Just… Please, I have a life here. I don’t want to go home. Don’t send me back there.” She threw herself at Twilight’s hooves. “I beg of you, Your Excellency.”

Twilight watched the breakdown with interest. She hadn’t really known what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t that. “Forgive me if I seem skeptical.”

“What can I–” Lyra Heartstrings took a moment to collect herself and thereby regained a remarkable level of composure. She then adopted what Twilight vaguely recognized as her people’s courtly mannerisms. “What must I do to assure you of my sincerity, Your Excellency?”

It was tempting to just boot the mare out of the country and be done with her. Twilight really didn’t need this complication in her life right now, especially if it entangled her with another nation’s royal court. Yet at the same time, it would free up a lot of time for her in the future if she had an attack dog on a leash. Lyra Heartstrings was no hedge mage or novice sorceress, and Bon Bon had mentioned her need for work. Perhaps they could come to an arrangement similar in nature to the deal Twilight had made with Espionage.

“First, I have little enough patience for ‘civility’ at the best of times. Knock it off.”

There was only a brief moment of hesitation before Lyra Heartstrings relaxed into a more natural stance.

“Second, tell me who you really are.”

“My full name is Lyra Heartstrings. Most ponies just call me Lyra. Less of a mouthful in Ponish.”

Twilight didn’t know the reverse translation, the language being a separate offshoot of Old Ponish, but she could certainly agree with the sentiment. Lyra it was, then.

“I was Queen Aqua’s master of waters.”

Eyes narrowing, Twilight asked, “Culturally speaking, wouldn’t that make you me?”

“Not…exactly,” Lyra replied very unconvincingly.

Twilight pushed an angry burst of air through her nose. “And you want to stay here?” She really didn’t need this right now.

“I’ve been here for six years without issue. I even faked my death when I left.”

Well, that was something. If she kept Lyra out of the public eye, perhaps they could make something work and avoid a diplomatic disaster. “Go home,” Twilight commanded. When Lyra’s eyes widened in horror, she added, “Your home in Ponyville. Index Code will be responsible for you until I come to a decision. If I understand the situation correctly, you’ll find her with Bon Bon, I think it was, upon your return.”





The long walk home was made longer by having to detour to retrieve her lyre from where she’d dropped it in her flight from the archmage. When Lyra finally passed through the front door with it delicately balanced on her back, she let out an exhausted sigh. It was then down to habit after that to deposit it on its stand in the drawing room.

Her labor complete, Lyra stretched her stiff, strained shoulders. As she did, her nose caught the scent of something delicious. She followed it into the kitchen and from there to the dining table where she found Bon Bon and, unless she was very much mistaken, Index Code. The three of them were supposed to have been playing cards tonight with Minuette, but she doubted that would happen now.

“Lyra?” Bon Bon said, surprised. “I thought I heard somepony come in. Did you forget something?”

“Yeah, the date.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. You can be such a scatterbrain sometimes.”

Lyra laughed nervously. “That’s totally what happened.” This rather suspect response, of course, caused Bon Bon to arch her eyebrows at her, but she ignored her marefriend’s silent question. That would probably cost her, but hey, what could she do? “So you’re the new pony in town? Index Code, right?”

“Just Index is fine. Bon Bon here was telling me all sorts of stories about you.”

“Oh. Great.” Lyra hoped they stemmed from simple friendly conversation rather than the beginnings of an investigation into her background. “Bon Bon, I’m not too late for dinner, am I?”

It wasn’t long at all before Lyra found herself with a bowl of Bon Bon’s delicious super spicy curry in front of her. She gave her thanks with a peck on the cheek and then slid into her seat and summoned up her magic–

“Ow!”

“You okay?” Bon Bon asked.

Stupid suppressors. “I’m fine.”

Without access to her magic, Lyra knew she would have to use her hooves to eat. That didn’t bode well. She’d never really gotten any good at using those things. Index carried on with her meal across the table as though nothing had happened, but Bon Bon still wore a worried look on her face. That gave Lyra an idea.

“Well, actually, I did hit my horn earlier. It really hurts. Would you feed me?” Lyra did her best to play up her supposed injury, even managing to bring a tear to her eye.

Bon Bon rolled her eyes and shoved a small loaf of bread into Lyra’s mouth. “Use that as a spoon, you big baby.”

Not as fun, but I guess that works. Lyra could at least hold the bread well enough to use it as an edible tool. She had to sit up a little straighter than she liked to make it work, but at least she wouldn’t starve.

“Don’t mind Lyra,” Bon Bon said to Index. The mare in question looked askance at Lyra, although she hid it well once called out on it. “I tell her not to sit like that all the time, but she never listens.”

Lyra glanced down at her posture. She sat on her rear with her hind legs hanging freely over the front of the chair and her back up against her seat. It was comfortable and familiar for her, and it wasn’t as though she’d never seen other ponies sit in a similar manner.

“It is hard on a unicorn’s skeletal structure,” Index said. “We’re not really built for it. But there are some spells which would eliminate any damage as a side effect.”

Oh, horrors. She already knows, doesn’t she? Lyra silently begged Index not to say a word to Bon Bon and changed the subject. “So what were you two planning to do tonight without me?”

“Just make some popcorn and watch some old movies,” Bon Bon replied.

Index nodded in agreement. “I’m still surprised at how many you have. Film reels aren’t cheap. Is your candy shop really so lucrative, or should I be asking the big boss for a raise?”

“Well, the Cakes and I are the only dedicated dessert suppliers in town. We service different needs, too, so you know how that goes.”

“Makes sense,” Index mused between spoonfuls of curry. She stopped just before taking another bite, her brow furrowing, and asked, “What percentage of your revenue is from Pinkie Pie?”

Bon Bon laughed at the question.





Applewood, the city where the stars shone night and day. The city where celebrities were born and where they died. The city where the magic of film made its home. The city where dreams came to life.

“I love you Silver Bell!”

“You’re the greatest!”

“Show me one of your thousand faces!”

“Say the line from Planet of the Humans!”

“Marry me!”

The actress in question walked down the red carpet to the Academy Awards with her costar for her latest film, the ruggedly handsome Star Shadow. She was the biggest thing to hit film since its invention. Her title, the Lady of a Thousand Faces, came from her expert incorporation of magic into her flawless acting, and it had earned her an eternal place in history.

“I’m starting to wonder if I should have agreed to be your date,” Shadow teased. “Nopony ever gets any attention around you.”

Leaning close and eliciting several squeals from the audience – some jealous, some not – Silver Bell laid the charm on extra thick. She whispered in Shadow’s ear as though they were lovers, “Oh, lighten up. They love you too, but you were the villain. Maybe you should fret over the lack of boos.” The crowd ate it up.

Shadow played along, laughing lightly. “Maybe, but I think I’d rather avoid that.”

The inside of Darfur Theater was no quieter than outside. There were less ponies now, it was true, but the enclosed space only amplified their voices. As the two stopped at the coat check for Silver Bell to leave her spring jacket, the call of a traitor came. She would normally either ignore it outright or give it only a fraction of her attention when so preoccupied, but with circumstances being what they were, she had little choice but to disappear for a few moments.

“If you would excuse me for a moment.”

“Where are you going?” Shadow asked. “It won’t be long before the ceremony begins.”

“I know. I’ll rejoin you at our seats before long. I just have to powder my nose.” It was a wildly unbelievable excuse from a mare who made her career off of her ability to change her appearance at will from her coloring to her voice, but a true gentlecolt knew not to pry.

It took little time to acquire some wine and then find a quiet place away from the hustle and bustle where a mare could stare off at the nearly full moon hanging in the night sky with a lot on her mind. Nopony would bother her if she projected the right atmosphere.

So prepared, Chrysalis poked at the unpleasant nuisance in the hive mind who’d sold out their entire species just to get laid. “What do you want, traitor?”

Thorax’s resigned sigh echoed all across the hive, revealing his utter lack of practice. He’d gone fully native, and it showed. “I have Princess Celestia with me, Your Majesty, as you requested.”

Chrysalis made a small harrumph. She could tolerate the coming conversation if the traitor merely intended to play the role of a courier. She did consider, for a moment, routing the traitor’s words through another member of her hive so she wouldn’t have to suffer the sound of his voice but thought better of it in the end. It was her duty to her hive to endure such things, not to pass the ordeal off to one of her changelings.

“Very well. Repeat my words, betrayer.”

As Thorax leaked his well deserved frustration into the hive mind, Chrysalis siphoned off some of the positive emotions directed at her in the theater. She isolated him from the rest of her changelings to keep the peace while she infused her drink with the love she’d gathered. With any luck, it’d help her remain civil around the princess despite the intermediary between them.

“Good evening, Princess.”

“‘Good evening, Queen Chrysalis,’” came the echo of Princess Celestia’s words through Thorax in the hive mind. “‘I apologize for interrupting your awards ceremony.’”

Chrysalis arched one of her currently existing eyebrows. “A little presumptive, don’t you think?”

“‘Oh, please. When have you walked home without one?’”

“When have I ever walked home?”

Thorax informed Chrysalis that Princess Celestia had laughed at the joke.

“Enough pleasantries,” Chrysalis said. They both had more important affairs to tend to than bantering with each other. “We’re here to speak of your sister’s imminent return. Your archmage informed me that the situation is far more dire than I expected.”

There was a long short pause before Princess Celestia replied. With Thorax between them, it was hard to know what meaning to take away from it, if any. “‘I have no doubt that, should it come to it, my sister would, as my archmage put it–”

A sense of incredulity came from Thorax before he got his act together. “Er, sorry, Your Majesty. I, uh, well, I’ll just keep going. ‘My sister would, as my archmage put it, kick my flank to the curb.’”

Chrysalis snorted in a mix of surprise and amusement mid drink, spraying her muzzle with little droplets of wine. It was such a shame Archmage Twilight had such a tiny lifespan. She would certainly miss the mare’s irreverence when she was gone.

“‘To be perfectly frank, the fate of the world is in Archmage Twilight’s hooves. While I prepare for the worst, she assures me she has this crisis, whatever the outcome, well in hoof.’”

Well, that was certainly an interesting bit of information. The archmage had never been prone to optimism or exaggeration in Chrysalis’s experience. “‘How, then, does she intend to manage the lunatic on the throne? Surely she doesn’t expect me to fight her.” While so many years spent in Equestria gorging herself on love and admiration meant exclusively for her had given her the strength to fight an alicorn on even terms, that was hardly unusual. Even Archmage Twilight could do that. There was a maximum amount of magic one could output without disrupting one’s own spells. The question then became how long could she last? The answer, she feared, was maybe a minute or two at best.

“Your Majesty, uh, forgive me, but…‘lunatic’? Are you sure that’s the word you want to use?”

Thorax had a point. There were good reasons that word had entered Equestria’s lexicon but none which would win any points with Princess Celestia. “Madmare, then, filth.”

After a few moments, the conversation finally restarted. “‘Although I must confess to not knowing, I suspect such is either a prerequisite to her plans or a precaution.’”

Now that certainly sounded like the paranoid archmage Chrysalis knew. She’d have to give the matter some thought later on her own time, but that was assurance enough for her for now. “Very well. Archmage Twilight has been nothing but fair and forthright in our dealings, so I’ll place my trust in her as well.”

An unusually long silence for Princess Celestia followed. When prodded for information, Thorax revealed that she appeared caught up in her thoughts with a slight frown marring her usually serene expression. Chrysalis instructed him to bring her back into the here and now.

“‘Shall we set aside our respective titles for a moment?’”

Intrigued at the sudden request, Chrysalis replied, “I see no reason to refuse.” It wasn’t everyday someling got a peek behind the mask.

“‘Thank you. Chrysalis, I owe you an apology for my hypocrisy.’”

Oh, now this is interesting. Preparing for the worst, indeed. It seemed the immortal goddess had a guilty conscious she wanted cleared before her sister locked her away for an indefinite length of time. She probably had a last request as well. Playing along, Chrysalis asked, “How so?”

“‘When Twilight first informed me there were changelings in Equestria, I fully intended to expel your entire hive despite her having already opened negotiations with you. I all but outright commanded her not to trust a child of Discord.’”

“Please,” Chrysalis interrupted with a healthy sneer. “Even my grandmother despised her maker. Those were dark times with little love to go around.”

“‘It was never any loyalty to him which worried me. There are myriad reasons why Equestria is home to so few nonponies. We have a long and troubled history with the griffons, for example.’”

“Ah.” Chrysalis understood where the hypocrisy came from now. All of the chimeric creatures Discord had created in his endless pursuit of entertainment did tend to cause problems. “Yet you maintain a friendship with Queen Novo of the hippogriffs.”

“‘The hippogriffs have been loyal allies for centuries. It both warms my heart and gives an old mare some peace of mind to know Twilight has your support in her coming trials.’”

Silence fell on both ends as that statement propagated through Chrysalis’s mind. The traitor, fool that he was, lacked the necessary skill to read the princess’s emotions with any degree of surety. As such, it proved difficult to gauge Princess Celestia’s true intent. It was so very tempting to portal to Canterlot to continue this discussion face to face.

Chrysalis downed the last of her wine. The hidden vow of a distant retribution if she betrayed the princess’s precious archmage came through clear enough, yet so too did the promise of favorable relations in the future in the other eventuality. But, she supposed, so long as Princess Celestia didn’t force her to pick an alicorn to back to the bitter end, it hardly mattered. She had no reason to stab Archmage Twilight in the back.

“You know, you never actually apologized.”

Thorax utterly failed to reproduce Princess Celestia’s almost musical laughter. “‘I offer my humble apologies for the slight upon your character. If you wish, please join us for our next movie night. Family and family friends only.’”

“I’ll consider it.” Chrysalis then put her metaphorical crown back upon her head. “So what precisely are you asking of my hive until the solstice?”

“‘Only that which you already do. Keep a weather eye out for anything suspicious and coordinate with the EIS.’”

The request was more than fair per the agreement Chrysalis had reached with Equestria. She asked, “Anything in particular you want us to watch for?”

After a few moments, Princess Celestia finally made her reply. “‘Some things have been found which should have remained lost. I had intended to send my archmage after them, but with her occupied and her substitute not up to the task, perhaps you could fill in for her.’”

The chance to have a firsthoof look at artifacts Princess Celestia wanted kept hidden? Chrysalis could hardly say no to that opportunity. “Send me the details. I’ll do what I can. Any priorities my hive can start on immediately?”

“‘Yes. Two. The Night Guardian Staff vanished years ago from where my sister left it.’”

Chrysalis remembered her mother’s stories about that particular magical artifact with a hint of dread. It didn’t grant power. It didn’t grant knowledge. The naive sorcerer would toss it aside as junk. But the most dangerous wielders of magic, the sort who would go to the effort to unearth a lost relic belonging to a vengeful goddess? They knew the value and rarity of a true spellcasting assistant. She understood why Princess Celestia wanted that artifact back in her possession.

“‘Somepony must have found something of hers to know of it, to find it, and to retrieve it. All of my leads went cold, but there may be a paper trail left somewhere or new rumors floating on the wind.

“‘My other priority is to find Sunset Shimmer. She…needs to be found.’”

There Chrysalis paused, taking a moment to reflect and consider her response. She knew where Sunset Shimmer was. Archmage Twilight knew where Sunset Shimmer was. For whatever reason, the archmage had an interest in covering for the mare. She’d been doing it for years with the hive’s support.

Well, if the princess wants my loyalty to extend to her archmage first, then on her head be it. Chrysalis promised to look into both the Night Guardian Staff and Sunset Shimmer while making a mental note to summon Archmage Twilight for a private conversation as soon as reasonably possible.





After dinner, Lyra, Bon Bon, and Index had spent the rest of the night watching movies and chatting. To be fully accurate, Bon Bon had done most of the talking with Index occasionally answering a question or commenting on one of her stories or a particularly interesting scene. Lyra had mostly kept to herself the whole while, waiting for the inevitable.

And then, when Bon Bon had asked for movie requests, Index suggested one that hit far too close to home. Lyra groaned, but Bon Bon loved everything Disneigh, and when Index revealed that she’d never actually seen the film in question, that sealed the deal.

Of course, they were only two heartsongs in when Bon Bon coaxed Lyra into singing along with her. She was such a dork, but she was her dork. Lyra would have no other. When they got to the final short little number, they entwined their hooves, stared deep into the other’s eyes, and sang together.

“Now we can walk. Now we can run. Now we can stay all day in the sun. Just you and me, and I can be–”

Bon Bon placed a hoof on Lyra’s cheek. She leaned into the touch.

“–part of your world.”

There were times when Lyra thought Bon Bon knew – knew and didn’t care. It was such a beautiful dream.

As the credits rolled, Index cut her magic off from the projector and then went to rewind the film. Lyra usually powered it herself when on hoof instead of wasting the accumulated ambient magic stored in its reservoir, but given her current difficulties in that regard, the offer had been made and accepted.

After a brief kiss, Bon Bon broke away and turned to their guest. “So what did you think?”

There was a bit of a clatter over her contemplative hum as Index replaced the film reel back in its protective tin and then returned it to its place on Bon Bon’s movie shelves. “It was interesting,” she finally concluded. “It’s been on my watch list for some time. I try to keep up to date on all of Silver Bell’s work.”

“Oh, a fan, eh?” Bon Bon asked.

Index shrugged and said, “Of sorts,” without any further explanation. “Anyway, the heartsongs were well done, and the anatomy was on point. Silver Bell’s influence, no doubt. But the writers have clearly never met a seapony. Or only met hippogriffs moonlighting as seaponies. Regardless, a more accurate setting would have been an insane mermare – sane by our standards – trying to escape to the surface through marriage or for love. Pick your poison. Still, one of the better films I’ve seen, I suppose. I did enjoy it.”

“Ooh, high praise from the critic,” Bon Bon teased. Then, clearly curious, she asked, “You’ve met seaponies?”

“I’ve had the displeasure. Their idea of a good time, as it happens, is to find some mountain sized abyssal horror to fight to the death.”

Lyra couldn’t deny that.

“While singing merrily, I might add.”

Or that, unfortunately.

“I’ve sat through a traumatized mare’s recollection of the psychopaths toying with her life. Her ship sank in a storm, and they ‘helped’ her get to shore.”

Lyra shifted uncomfortably. She distinctly recalled reading that report about a good deed done in the name of friendship.

“Why do you ask?”

“Er, just curious,” Bon Bon replied. “I’ve heard stories but didn’t know how embellished they were.”

Index shrugged and, as her eyes swept over Bon Bon’s movie collection, said, “For what it’s worth, they’re mostly harmless. We’re too boring to be worth bothering.” Her eyes lit up as she snagged a film with her magic. “I didn’t know there was a Daring Do movie!”

“Eh, the book was better,” Bon Bon said dismissively as she rose to her hooves. “I think I’m going to turn in for the night.”

As much as she didn’t want to, Lyra said, “I’m up for another.”

Lyra exchanged her good nights with Bon Bon, and before long, she was alone with her parole officer. To her mild surprise, Index actually set the Daring Do movie to playing and settled in to watch. She occasionally levitated popcorn into her mouth without a word or comment. Without Bon Bon around to pull them both into conversation, the silence festered until it finally overwhelmed Lyra.

“The Little Seapony? Really?”

Without a hint of apology, Index replied, “I was wondering how long it would take you to crack.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“I’m well aware of my abrasiveness.” There was absolutely no shame in those words. “Now I honestly haven’t been able to decide. Have you told her?”

“Of course not,” Lyra muttered. She wanted no part of her old life. “Thanks for not outing me, I guess.”

Index grunted an acknowledgment. “So is she the reason you’re here?”

In the most literal sense, the answer to that question was a big yes. She would still be living in the lower districts of Canterlot as far from the oceans as possible if not for Bon Bon. But to the spirit of the question, Lyra replied, “No. I got sent up onto dry land for a few chores, and I liked it here. I liked being a unicorn. I left Aquestria to get away from the craziness.”

“The flesh shapes the mind, I suppose.”

“I was tired of it all long before then,” Lyra insisted. She’d only needed a place to escape to in order to find the will to act on the desire.

A skeptical hum met the question, but Index didn’t contest Lyra’s claim. “I will, of course, be reporting everything you tell me.”

Lyra had expected as much. She understood both the position she was in and the position she’d put Equestria in now that she’d been discovered. The archmage, she knew, had every right and indeed the responsibility to toss her back into the ocean and let her queen sort her out. She was lucky to still be here on a tentative basis.

Sighing, Lyra reached out for some popcorn with her magic. It didn’t work, but she was getting used to the sharp sting in her horn reminding her not to try after every time she got distracted and forgot. She instead awkwardly put her hooves to the task of feeding her sans any of the dexterity Bon Bon displayed. That was dark earth pony magic infinitely beyond her clumsy attempts to replicate it.

An idea occurred. “Hey. Can you take these off.” Lyra gestured to the still invisible suppressors on her horn.

“You’re a flight risk, so no.”

Lyra pursed her lips. That was fair. She could be anypony anywhere in Equestria in the time it took most ponies to put on a dress. “What if I Pinkie Promised to stay in Ponyville?”

Index rolled her eyes.

“But nopony can break a Pinkie Promise.”

“Don’t be absur–” Slowly, Index turned her head to Lyra and asked for clarification.

Lyra was happy to elucidate. She demonstrated the motions and recited the chant that accompanied the full formal process, after which she explained the consequences to breaking a Pinkie Promise.

“Let me get this straight,” Index said with forced calm, eye twitching. “Pinkie Pie is aware of all promises made in her name?”

That wasn’t exactly how Lyra had phrased it, but it wasn’t incorrect.

“Fine.” It certainly didn’t sound fine. “It has a set phrase to invoke. I understand how I would go about implementing a spell to that effect.”

Lyra, who had no idea where she would even begin with that sort of magic, eyed Index with some suspicion. Exactly how much magical knowledge was the mare hiding under the guise of a simple bureaucrat? Who works directly for the archmage. Hmm…

“But she can somehow parse all of the information necessary to know when a promise is broken and not just find but track the oathbreaker?”

“It’s Pinkie.” What more needed to be said?

Index point-blank rejected that explanation. “No. No, I must be thinking about this backwards. When the vow is invoked, it must place some sort of monitoring spell on the subject. If you distribute the computational load, those little spells could report back to Pinkie Pie when triggered. But how would they know when to do so? Perhaps a geas? Dark magic doesn’t really seem up her alley, even assuming she’s not secretly a unicorn and got somepony else to cast everything for her, but it’s an avenue of approach. That would cause the magic requirement to balloon, however. Eh, whatever. I’ll just assume infinite power and consider feasibility later.”

The muttered musings of a sorceress with an interesting problem tempted Lyra to get involved for old times’ sake, but that wasn’t her life anymore. Nor was it why she’d brought this up at all. “So? Will you remove the suppressors if I make a Pinkie Promise?”

“I’ll look into it. If it’s a real phenomenon and it’s not some spell effect you can easily remove, I’ll consider it. For now, you’ll just have to suffer without magic.”

Fantastic. A disgruntled Lyra went back to struggling to eat popcorn.
> Chapter Six - Distractions
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Let’s go. It’s time you fulfilled your end of our deal.”





Twilight galloped. She galloped with everything she had in her. She had no idea where she was galloping to, but it was all she could do. It tracked every teleport. Illusions proved useless. Barriers, meaningless. Offense, insignificant. Flight was the only option.

“I see all!”

That otherworldly voice pierced the forest Twilight had escaped into, proclaiming its superiority. The terrifying presence of its owner crept forward like a fog. It was playing with her, she knew, but what choice did she have but to keep on the move? So long as she kept its interest on this game of cat and mouse, she could survive.

“I know all!”

Twilight stumbled on a rotten log but recovered her stride with a well placed telekinetic push. Up ahead, she saw a clearing. Maybe that could save her if turned out to be the edge of the forest. Maybe she could outrun her pursuer on an open plain.

“I am all!”

The clearing did become wide, level ground as the trees thinned out with only a few scattered hills. The tall grass easily half her height at its shortest would get in the way, so Twilight incinerated a path through it in advance of her flight. She tried to weave her way between hills and met with significant success, but alas, the fastest way past one she quickly calculated to be over it. She lost time and ground there, yet after it there would be nothing but straight sailing.

As Twilight crested the hill, a dark blue figure crashed into her at an acute angle, no doubt fleeing the very same terror as she. They knocked each other to the ground with a grunt first from the collision and then another from the impact with the earth. The alicorn, as it happened, looked to be about a hoof or two taller than her and had a gorgeous mane of stars.

Twilight knew this alicorn’s identity at once. “Nightmare Mo–” Yet hadn’t Celestia described her sister as such and not the nightmare? “Luna?”

“You have the worst dreams, Twilight Sparkle.”

As much as she felt she should take offense, Twilight had to admit she’d not been having the best of luck getting restful sleep lately. Not that it really mattered right now with the pink one hot on her hooves. She wouldn’t be getting any sleep anytime soon.

A haunting giggle filled the air at a ghostly whisper. Both Twilight’s and Luna’s heads snapped back toward the forest to see a creeping mist approaching them. A small pink speck pronked forward from its depths, deceptive in its apparent playfulness.

In unspoken agreement, the pair fled together in the opposite direction.





Twilight awoke, fortunately, just before the dream Pinkie Pie captured herself and the dream Luna. She didn’t want to know what fate her subconscious had intended to throw at her. Nor did she wish to contemplate what it meant that she’d only been having nightmares lately. She usually didn’t sleep long enough to properly dream so she had no idea when this problem had truly started.

Really, it was Pinkie Pie’s fault. She knew who Twilight was now, thus eliminating the need to continue the masquerade around her. However, her persistent insistence on ‘sleeping properly’ because, and these were her own words, ‘her eyelashes were wiggling’ had worn Twilight down until she’d caved and agreed.

With a wide yawn, Twilight took a groggy glance at the clock in Pinkie Pie’s room. It looked like she had less than an hour before the Cakes would break for lunch. She rolled out of bed away from the balcony, arresting her momentum just before she hit the ground to set herself down gently. Lying there, she performed her daily magical ablutions – skipping the luxury of a shower or bath – to half of herself and then rolled over for the other half. She did consider doing it all in one go, but that sometimes interacted poorly with carpeting and ultimately require more work.

“Pinkie Pie,” Twilight moaned, “this was a bad idea.” When no answer came, she lazily lifted her head and looked around. “Pinkie? Where – oh, right. You have a job.”

Twilight clambered to her hooves, donned her saddle bags, got into character, and then finally moved to head downstairs. As she walked past Pinkie Pie’s mirror, she noticed her unkempt mane and took a moment to tie it into a braid before descending.

Walking up to the front counter instead of into the kitchens, Index addressed her host. “Cup Cake, what do you have in the way of sugar comas disguised as breakfast?”

“Oh, dearie, you look just terrible. Is there anything wrong with your bed? I know Pinkie likes to jump on it once in a while.”

“No, the bed is just fine” for something other than a cloud. Maybe she should drag one into Pinkie Pie’s room for her own use. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Well, I know just the thing for you. Carrot! Can you whip up a batch of zap apple muffins?”

Carrot Cake’s voice came back from the kitchens. “Sure as sugar is our business! I’ll have them ready in twenty minutes!”

Index’s ears betrayed her interest and perked up. “I didn’t know you could use zap apples to make anything but jam.”

“Oh, you’ll be in for a big surprise, then,” Cup Cake said with a hint of matronly mischief in her voice. “Why don’t you go ahead and take a seat. Would you like some coffee, tea, or something else?”

“I’d take some orange juice if you have it. Failing that, lemonade or water.”

“Sure thing. I’ll bring it out just as soon as I finish with the ponies behind you.”

Nodding, Index left the line and took a window seat overlooking the town market. It would seem that everypony’s daily business had started long ago. The square overflowed with ponies going to and fro with bags draped over their backs, hanging from their wings, or floating along nearby. As Sweetie Belle had put it, however, this was very much an earth pony town. At a very rough guess from what she could see right now and some lazy math, she estimated the adult pegasi population at around thirty with slightly more unicorns and a total population somewhere around a thousand.

“One cup of orange juice, as request,” Cup Cake said as she deposited the glass in question on Index’s table. “Need anything else?”

“Hmm, some sugar? I’m feeling really sluggish right now.”

“I already put a few cubes in. Why don’t you give it a try first.”

Index took a sip of her drink. “Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks for the thought.”

“You’re welcome,” Cup Cake said as she left to return to her post.

As she nursed her juice, Index returned to staring out the window as she planned her day. She had so much to do, so little time to do it, and she kept accruing more even though her time in Ponyville was supposed to have been the worst vacation ever. Instead, it just felt like business as usual.

What do I need to do today? There’s that Fluttershy mare that I completely forgot about yesterday after the stampede. Pinkie Pie said she lives on the outskirts of town near the Everfree, so I think I’ll save her for later. Hopefully that will go well. I just need to be understanding and patient.

Index frowned. Between Lyra and Pinkie Pie last night, she didn’t know how much patience she had left in her. It might be best to delay meeting Fluttershy if she found something else to do first.

What else? I need to get updates on the festival from Amethyst Star at some point. I can do that while wandering through town and asking ponies about Pinkie Pie. Maybe I can get some insight into her from the local gossip. Need to remember to research Pinkie Promises as well. I doubt anypony will find it odd if I ask around about either. Everypony at least seems to understand that she’s an anomaly.

On the subject of Pinkie Promises, I need to decide what to do about Lyra Heartstrings. Index buried her face in her hooves and let out a small, frustrated groan. A seapony of all things. And a former archmage equivalent at that. What did I do to deserve that headache? At least she’s behaving. If the Pinkie Promise thing pans out, I should probably let her off with that for now until I can organize something more formal.

Ugh… Sugar… Index took a long sip of her delicious sugar water flavored with a hint of orange. 

I need to follow up on Pinkie Pie’s ideas for bearers. That won’t be a fast process. How many can I do in a day? Especially starting this late in it. Cheerilee seemed decent enough. I should test her sometime. Bon Bon as well.

Hmm, I think I’ll push Bon Bon to near the top of the list. I need to touch up Lyra’s polymorph before it wears off if I don’t remove her suppressors.

I should probably check out the town in more detail while I’m investigating. I don’t really know anything about Ponyville.

“One order of zap apple muffins, hot out of the oven.”

Index jumped in place and got halfway to launching an offensive before she recalled where and who she was at the moment. She’d gotten so lost in her thoughts that, without her protective enchantments to warn her, Carrot Cake had managed to sneak up on her. He placed a plate with three muffins on it onto her table none the wiser to the hostile intent behind the glow of her snap-cast-happy horn. Beneath them, the napkin they rested on curled up on the sides and clung to the pastries with an ominously strong static cling. Indeed, she could hear a quiet electric crackle underneath the buzz of conversation in the bakery.

“Cup Cake tells me you’ve never had any zap apple delights before.”

“I’ve had the jam,” Index corrected.

“Ah, I figured you would have, coming from Canterlot. It’s rare outside of Ponyville, since it only grows near the Everfree and is a nightmare to harvest, but it usually makes its way up to the capital. Filthy Rich’s family first made its fortune selling it to the nobles.”

Index did her best to pay attention and not tune out the local trivia. She had, after all, literally just committed herself to learning more about Ponyville. “I’m not very familiar with the magics involved. Obviously, I was mistaken, but I thought zap apples were stable only in jam form.”

“Well, then you’d best eat your muffins before they vanish.”

“What?” It was too early in Index’s day for her food to walk out on her.

Carrot Cake winked.

“Oh. A joke. I see. How much do I owe you?”

“You’re a guest. It’s on the house so long as I get to watch you take your first bite. I love the first reactions.”

“Really? All right then.”

Her first nibble proved different than Index had expected. It was electrifying, of course, but that much had been obvious. What she’d not anticipated was the unique and amazing flavor it left behind. It was much like what she’d thought a rainbow would taste like before she’d gotten blasted into a vat of the stuff early in her career. Impassively, she held the muffin a centimeter away from her mouth. Then after a moment’s hesitation, she took a huge bite out of the remaining muffin and twitched as the discharge ran its way through her. “Honestly,” she began once she recovered, “I don’t know if the shock is good or bad. I’m certainly awake now, though.”

“I think you should talk to Big Mac out on Sweet Apple Acres. He’s the only other pony that’s reacted as calmly as you to our muffins. You might get along pretty well.”

Well, I suppose that’s another thing to do. Maybe not today, but sometime. We’ll see. Index nodded as she took another large bite with another twitch and then thanked Carrot Cake for the hospitality.

Oh, I wanted to meet the other two crusaders. Pinkie Pie’s stories made it sound like one of the group is a physics prodigy. Probably Apple Bloom. No surprise there that she hasn’t gotten her cutie mark yet. All she likely needs to do is take a step back to appreciate all of the projects she’s worked on. Abstract cutie marks are such a pain. Well worth it – Twilight wouldn’t trade hers for anything – but still a pain. I wonder what the third one brings to the table. The Crusaders are all really old to be blank flanks, so she’s probably in the same boat.

Now that I think about it, Flurry Heart is still a blank flank too, and she’s nine. Then a nightmarish vision of the future came to mind. Oh, no way. Not happening. Flurry Heart and Spike do not need to meet the Crusaders.

Anyway, I can meet Apple Bloom when I talk to that Big Mac character. They’re both low priority tasks.

Index polished off the last of her breakfast and downed what remained of her juice. She couldn’t think of anything else that she needed to do right now, so she rose to her hooves and set out to meet the day.

I need a notebook and a quill. I have research to do!





Ocellus felt the gentle nudge from her mother and queen in the hive mind to go about the task assigned to her. It was simple in nature, but she still wished she could have passed this off to someling else. What if she had the wrong pony? What if she didn’t? The archmage was not exactly the easiest pony to interact with. All she had to do was speak for her mother, which was all someling her age was really good for, yet–

Another mental push, this time a little more insistent and firm if still affectionate, came through the hive mind. Ocellus sighed and stepped toward the new pony in town who went by Index Code. When she finished speaking to another pony, her already heavy frown deepening, Ocellus saw her chance.

“Um, excuse me?”

Index Code turned her weighty gaze down upon Ocellus’s small pony form. There could be no question. This mare was indeed the archmage in disguise. “Yes?” she said simply before turning her eyes back upon the notebook floating in her magic.

“Her Majesty wishes to speak with you.”

Eyes alight with recognition, Index turned and ushered them both to a shady spot nearby where she cast a few minor spells. Ocellus didn’t recognize them, as her magical studies had only recently truly begun, but she expected they were to ensure their privacy.

Rather briskly, the archmage asked, “What is it?”

“Just repeat after me,” Chrysalis said encouragingly.

And so Ocellus did, if perhaps not with the same force of personality as her mother. “‘I’ve spoken with your princess. There are a few things you should know. The first and most important is that she all but declared you the head of state to me.’”

The archmage muttered something too quiet to parse.

“‘As such,’” Ocellus continued for her mother, “‘I’ll be dealing directly with you from now on. At least until after the solstice.’”

“Understood,” the archmage bit out.

Before the conversation between giants could continue, Ocellus, perhaps unwisely, broke from her role and asked, “Are you all right?”

The archmage’s expression twisted into one of befuddlement for a few seconds. “Oh,” she said. “Not Chrysalis.” After performing some strange breathing technique which had a remarkably calming effect upon her emotions, she said, “Yes. These last few days have just been…rough. May we continue?”

“Oh, yes, I’ll, uh, just…be quiet now. Sorry.”

To Ocellus’s relief, no reprimand came from either side of the conversation. All she felt over the hive mind was indulgent patience for a nymph out on her own, relatively speaking, in the world for the first time. It soon passed, however, and Chrysalis resumed speaking – with intent to mortify her, it seemed.

“‘You’ll have to forgive my heiress for the faux pas,’” Ocellus managed to repeat with not a little difficulty. “‘She’s young and inexperienced.’”

The archmage quirked an eyebrow at Ocellus. “Understandable,” she said. “And am I not here to make friends? It seemed an appropriate question to ask.” She looked fully at Ocellus rather than through her to Chrysalis on the other end of the hive mind. “She and I will have to converse some other time.”

“‘So long as you don’t drag her into your business with the Elements, feel free. It’ll be good for her.’”

“Perhaps a play date with Spike?” the archmage suggested.

Ocellus cursed her current pony form for allowing her to blush. Her mother found all this amusing, of course, as it seemed to be a universal trait amongst every species for parents to embarrass their children. It was a mercy, then, that when she put her hoof down, Chrysalis continued the conversation proper.

“‘Princess Celestia has requested that I fill in for the more practical aspects of your position while you’re away.’”

“That’s fine,” the archmage said, unconcerned in the least. “You may wish to coordinate with Moon Dancer, but I have no objections.”

“‘She’s specifically asked for me to discover Sunset Shimmer’s location.’”

That caught the archmage off guard. “Why?”

“‘My impression is that she’s looking for closure. It may also be that their infamous falling out had higher stakes than anyone knows.’”

The archmage said nothing for the longest time with a pensive, ruthful expression upon her face. “Don’t tell her anything,” she finally replied, now looking as weary as any mare Ocellus had ever seen and radiating emotions to match. “I’ll resolve the matter one way or another myself.”

“‘As you wish. I’ll leave you be, then, to return to discovering the power of friendship.’”

Chrysalis’s attention retreated from Ocellus in the hive mind while, in the physical world, the archmage snorted, not quite indignant but also distinctly unamused.

Not sure exactly what to do now, Ocellus said, “She’s gone, but if – well, I could bring her back if you want.”

The archmage waved a hoof dismissively. “No need.” She looked down at her notebook, then out to the market, and then her gaze returned back to Ocellus. “So, Princess of the Hive, eh?”

Ocellus nodded, slipped into short bob appropriate for what was the de facto Princess of Equestria as far as the hive was concerned, and formally introduced herself as she’d been taught. “My name is Princess Ocellus, Your Excellency. It’s a pleasure to meet the mare who mediated between Princess Celestia and our hive.”

“Twilight Sparkle,” the archmage replied. “I have more titles than I care for or bother to remember. Welcome to Equestria.”

It was the greater part of a decade too late for that, but Ocellus took it in the spirit with which it was meant.

“By the way, Chrysalis and I may have been teasing, but if you want to head to Canterlot to play with my son, feel free.”

That came as something of a surprise. The archmage was notoriously protective of her family.

“He gets on well with everyone,” the archmage continued. “I have no idea how I managed to raise such a mild-mannered young dragon, but there you go. Just be aware we don’t stand on formality behind closed doors when not acting in our official capacities. And sometimes even then.”

Ocellus considered the offer. She did want to see more of the world now that her mother was willing to give her a little autonomy. It would be nice to meet some people outside the hive, too. Perhaps she would take the opportunity and fly north up to Canterlot.





No.

Index had promptly returned to work after her unscheduled meeting with Chrysalis, looking for a distraction, and a distraction she had found. She’d just finished another round of questioning and, secretly, checking her informant’s memories for signs of tampering. As with everypony before him, there were none.

I refuse to accept this. This is too much, even for Pinkie Pie. There has to be some simpler, unifying explanation.

The only possible explanation had to be a massive prank the entire village played on poor unsuspecting visitors. It had to be.

Pinkie Promises? Sure. I have a general idea how those could work. They’re not completely outside the bounds of reality as I know it.

Flipping through her notes at unnatural speeds, desperately searching for some glaring inconsistency in the stories she’d gathered, Index drew a lot of attention that she’d been trying to avoid upon herself. It didn’t help that she was lying on a public bench on her back with her head in her arms while using a scrying spell to read. Soon enough, she had no choice but to admit defeat.

I can’t deny it no matter how much I wish I could. All of the stories are consistent with each other. This is either the most elaborate joke in history or Pinkie Pie legitimately has precognition.

The worst part was with everything Index had seen Pinkie Pie do already, part of her brain wanted to carelessly log the ability to see the future under the same category and get on with her life. It was only Pinkie Pie being Pinkie Pie, after all. Did that mean she also had the power to make herself seem mundane?

It’s like somepony just randomly threw abilities onto her and sat back with a bowl of popcorn to watch the chaos.

Index set her notebook on the ground and brought out the Royal Breathing Exercises. She felt a rant coming on and wanted to head it off early before she completely lost it. When she rolled over to have room to do so, however, she discovered a simple fact she’d forgotten: benches were narrow.

Ow…

The fall, while embarrassing, had at least reset her brain. Index lay unmoving for a minute to revel in the mild but distracting pain, exploring the sensation with an idle curiosity. Eventually, she grew bored, resigned herself to returning to work, and got to her hooves.

“Excuse me. Are you Index Code, the festival overseer?” The mare who’d spoken in a distinctly Canterlot accent was a unicorn somewhere in her twenties with a pure white coat and a purple mane and tail which could only be described as fabulous. Before Index could reply, she continued, “Oh, darling, you look terrible! Your eyes are all bloodshot, and your mane is a mess. Just look at all those split ends poking out of your braid. Ugh, and is that dirt on your coat? What happened?”

“Nothing. Just…” Not really wanting to get into everything with a stranger, especially one from out of town, Index dropped the subject. “What was it that you wanted? Did something come up with the celebration?”

“Hmm? Oh, no, not that. I am Rarity, Sweetie Belle’s elder sister.”

Oh, fantastic. Social climbers were, in many ways, more frustrating to deal with than the nobility. Index would withhold judgment for the moment out of respect for Sweetie Belle, but from what little she knew, this Rarity had all the warning signs.

“She told me how you saved her life yesterday,” Rarity continued, “and I knew right then that I simply must thank you for what you did.”

Although wary of Rarity’s true intentions with the offer, Index replied, “You’re welcome. I would say it was nothing, but I could really use a pick-me-up right now. What did you have in mind?”

“I was just on my way to the Ponyville Day Spa. Join me? My treat. No offense, darling, but you look like you would benefit from a little pampering.”

That sounded like a huge waste of time which Index simply couldn’t turn down. But the words that actually left her mouth were, “There’s a day spa in Ponyville?”

“Well, of course there is. Let me lead you there.” Rarity set off toward the center of Ponyville with Index following a step behind. “Where would this town be without a wonderful spa? Aloe and Lotus Blossom are the best masseuses outside of Canterlot. All those farmers would be a dreadful mess of tense muscles, dry hooves, and ghastly manes if their services were not available.”

“Right…” Perhaps this was just another idiosyncrasy of Ponyville Index just had to accept. “Wait. Is that a bowling alley? And an Equestria Games regulation high dive? That doesn’t make any sense. This is a farming village, isn’t it?”

“Yes, dear, but you see, both were a favorite past time of Granny Smith back in her youth, and the sports followed her here. She’s had a lot of influence over Ponyville as one of its principle founders. It also helps that she’s been the head of the Apple family for the longest time. All manner of odd things have sprouted up around her interests over the decades.”

“I guess that makes–” A far more inconceivable sight caught Index’s eye. “Why!” What idiot thought a shop dedicated exclusively to selling quills and sofas made for a cohesive business model?

Rarity followed Index’s gaze before adopting a somewhat sheepish expression. “Yes, well, I have no explanation for that one. But it’s not as though there’s any shortage of demand.” She looked back at Index as they passed by yet another odd store. “Not going to comment on Mr Breezy’s Fan Shoppe?”

“No. I already know the explanation for that one.”

Nonplussed, Rarity had no response to that.

“That was a lie, of course. This town is an endless source of madness.”

Rarity chuckled, seemingly not offended by the comment. Whether that be because she had the self-awareness to recognize the truth or no longer – or never had – considered this her home, who knew?

Regardless, the pair arrived at the day spa. It seemed to require an appointment for service, but Rarity performed some social magic to convince the receptionist to admit Index as well on her reservation.

As it was her first visit to a spa, Index had only a vague idea of what to expect. But between the massage, the hooficure, and the mud bath, she was beginning to think this was going to become a more frequent part of her life. There were times in the midst of her research when she could get a few contiguous hours where she could work purely from her thoughts with maybe just a bit of magic thrown in here or there.

Rarity tossed some water onto the sauna rocks. Once the hissing died down, now that they finally had a bit of privacy, she said, “Sweetie Belle tells me you work directly under the archmage.”

It begins. As there was little use in denying it, Index said, “Is that all she told you?” If Rarity pressed too hard for whatever she was after, Index would simply shut her down, leave, and hope Sweetie Belle didn’t take too much offense when her sister got blacklisted.

“Well, no. There were one or two other tiny details involved. I’m sure you already know how excitable she can be. It was…an ordeal to get her into bed last night.”

Index chuckled at that. She remembered those days. More often than not, Spike would…

It was then that Index recalled that Sweetie Belle had specifically used the term ‘guardians’ instead of parents. She eyed Rarity with a hint of cautious respect as she reevaluated what little she knew about the mare with this new piece of information.

“Anyway, you simply must tell me all about the castle. I hear it’s a marvelous work of architecture with some of the most exquisite art in the world.”

“I…suppose there’s some truth to that,” Index began hesitantly. “For the architecture, at least, especially at night. I don’t have the best eye for such things, but there’s something elegant about how it hangs from the mountain and the way water flows around it. There’s no magic involved, just engineering bedazzlement.

“Personally, I’m more impressed with the rest of the city. I don’t know what possessed Princess Celestia to build her capital on a mountainside, but the original settlers did a fantastic job getting it to spiral with the mountain face without making the streets steep or using too many stairs. Although…I do recall losing my favorite ball when I was two. It just rolled away, never to return. I spent the rest of the day inconsolable.”

Rarity hummed as she processed Index’s response. “I cannot say I quite understand your point of view,” she ultimately replied. “But if you said that to Apple Bloom, you would probably have a new best friend. I honestly don’t know how that filly has yet to acquire a cutie mark in some field of engineering.”

“It’ll happen eventually. She just needs some perspective or maybe a proper challenge to spark the process. Much like your little sister with magic.”

“Yes,” Rarity said uneasily. “I’ll be proud of her, of course, but at the same time, I’m not looking forward to that moment. She and her friends already cause enough trouble as it is. I dread to imagine what mischief they’ll engage in once they have a bit of focus.”

“My condolences,” Index said, not quite able to hide the laughter in her voice.

“Yes, thank you,” Rarity flatly replied. “But never mind my drama. Tell me, have you ever been to the gala?”

Had Index ever been to the Grand Galloping Gala? No, not once. But Twilight? Oh, she most certainly had. “Urgh, don’t remind me. My friend drags me there every year. She has to attend, and according to her, if she has to suffer through it, then so do I.”

“What? But the gala is the premier event in Canterlot! The society, the culture, the glamour!”

“The unqualified boredom.” Twilight snorted and then threw more water onto the sauna rocks. “Perhaps its different if you’re there to network. Me? I stand around and greet ponies I hate while I pretend to pay attention to the few words we exchange before the next arrives. Wash, rinse, and repeat the entire night.”

“That does sound rather dreary,” Rarity admitted. “I design ensembles for the gala every year, but I’ve never been myself. Perhaps you recall one of Fleur de Lis’s dresses over the past few years?”

“Fashion isn’t really my thing.”

When she was young and innocent, Twilight had presented herself at such events in all the formal attire expected of her. But as the years dragged on, she’d stopped caring entirely, opting instead to merely wear the regalia associated with her office. Who had she ever really been trying to impress, anyway? Society? Not a chance. A romantic prospect? She had a fair amount of evidence suggesting she was asexual. Celestia? She’d already won her mentor’s respect a thousand times over for far more substantial reasons than physical beauty.

“I don’t know. Have you made anything for Octavia Melody? I bump into her fairly often.”

“Darling,” Rarity said, drawing the word out, “I created her entire wardrobe.”

“Really?” Although only vaguely, Twilight did recall Celestia commenting positively just between the two of them on one of Octavia’s dresses. It was such a rare event that it’d stuck in her memory, and she knew Celestia had a discerning eye for, well, everything. “Do you make more than dresses?”

Rarity’s eyes were already alight. “What did you have in mind?”

“Something functional.”

For years now, Twilight had meant to make a few magical artifacts of her own design. She in particular wanted a combat robe she could throw on if caught flat-hoofed. It would only rarely address the specific threats she faced, but it could cover all of the common avenues of attack and had the distinct advantage of being undispellable. Artifacts had to be actively suppressed in a continuous process, starved of ambient magic, or outright destroyed to end their effects. All that had really stopped her from making it had been an ever present lack of time, but now a pony she could potentially outsource to had waltzed right into her life.

“Have you ever worked with thaumic thread?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what that is,” Rarity replied with some chagrin. To be fair to her, however, Equestria had only rediscovered the rather niche material in the last couple decades. “Oh, but I do love a challenge. Do go on.”

“Well, in short, you literally weave enchantments.”

Rarity shot upright from where she’d lain. A gasp slipped past her lips, and then she sang, “Idea!” Somepony was passionate about her work, it seemed. “Oh, where is my sketchpad when I need it?”

Although she rolled her eyes, Twilight obliged and pulled a blank notebook with a pencil from her subspace storage. Just in case, she also zapped it with a waterproofing enchantment. Rarity accepted the materials without question and immediately set to work on whatever designs had popped into her head.

“You may wish to wait a moment,” Twilight cautioned.

“Darling, inspiration waits for nopony.”

Twilight couldn’t resist another roll of her eyes. Was that what she was like when she got into one of her own moods? Surely not.

“But do continue,” Rarity insisted. “I’m listening.”

“Right, well, thaumic thread is made from solidified magic. It’s extremely expensive and, if mishandled, extraordinarily dangerous. Once the basic form is set, it’s my understanding that the fabrics must then undergo a special treatment to turn it from a deathtrap into a proper magical artifact. There’s a similar, more established process in metallurgy which you might want to look into. The Royal Guard uses it to make their armor.”

Rarity’s hum came off rather dismissively. “If this process works as I suspect, a rigid form would be much easier to work with, especially with a durability spell to prevent damage. The enchantments in my weave would have to adapt to the changing shape of the cloth. I imagine that requires spatial magic sewn into the final product. I’ve never had the knack for it with a horn, but no matter. I can stitch any pattern, or my name isn’t Rarity.”

“I can provide the spellwork required. Do you know how to read spell diagrams?”

“No,” Rarity admitted, “but Sweetie Belle does. I can borrow whatever book she learned from.”

Twilight’s eyebrows rose in some surprise. She’d thought to give that to Sweetie Belle as her next assignment to open every serious magical text to her perusal, but it seemed something else would be in order. But that would keep until later.

“I can also provide the thread. And some extra to experiment with, of course.” The main cost in the material’s production, as Twilight understood it, was the sheer raw magic required. She had no lack of it herself, and she also had Magic. At worst, it’d be an afternoon project to produce the necessary supplies. “Do you want the job?”

Aghast at the question, Rarity echoed, “Do I want the job?” She rose to her hooves and struck a dramatic pose. “Darling, this is the opportunity of a lifetime! Magic dresses! The very notion! I’d never even considered it. Oh, I simply cannot wait to turn my imaginings into reality!”

It was hard to argue with the eager. “I’ll try to get the spells and thread to you by the next moon. What were you thinking in terms of price?”

“Price?” Clearly, the thought had never occurred to Rarity. “Oh, yes. Give my parents a talking-to for me, and we’ll call it even.”

That…doesn’t seem even remotely fair? “I’m not sure I understand.” That said, Twilight did wonder exactly what the family dynamic was in Sweetie Belle’s life. The more she learned, the more complicated it seemed to become.

As Rarity retook her seat and relaxed once more, she let out a long sigh. “It’s…complicated,” she said, a fitting description. While she considered how to proceed, she added more steam to the sauna. “My parents leave my sister in my care often enough that I make most day-to-day decisions regarding her upbringing. Suffice it to say, the three of us have had some…disagreements. My lack of formal custody prevents me forcing the matter or even having an equal vote, and the idea of dragging the entire family through the courts is…”

“An unpleasant necessity you keep talking yourself out of?”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” Rarity said with an unease which belied her words.

While Twilight didn’t consider this exchange of favors a proper business transaction, she was certainly invested enough in Sweetie Belle to hear Rarity out. They could discuss payment for services to be rendered some other time. “What precisely is the nature of your disagreement?”

“It’s Sweetie Belle’s education. She deserves better than what Ponyville can offer her.”

“I’ve had the very same thought myself.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you agree,” Rarity said excitedly. “My parents don’t want her to be away from her friends and family. I volunteered to stay with her, of course. Canterlot would be ideal for both of us, to be perfectly honest, but I can move my primary place of business anywhere in Equestria. Apparently, that’s not enough for some ponies.”

“It does sound somewhat hypocritical. And you want me to…scold them?”

“I know what I’m asking is rather uncouth, but somepony of your position? Why, they’d just have to listen.”

Meddling in family affairs was never pleasant. Not that Twilight expected to need to be as heavy-hoofed with Sweetie Belle’s parents as with Cadance’s, but she had none of Celestia’s social grace. Maybe she could pull Cadance from Canterlot and just stand in the background with a disapproving glower. Calling in Celestia would be overkill in a bad way, she was sure.

“I don’t know, Rarity. I’m willing to try, but you might be taking the wrong approach here. At best, I can tell them things they, I assume, already know. At worst, I can show up in full regalia and cow them into submission.”

“If it takes a little intimidation, I…” As Rarity trailed off, she peered at Twilight with a scrutinizing gaze. “Do forgive me, dear, but I never asked. What exact position do you hold?”

Well, that question came out of no…where… Wait. What titles have true regalia again?

“Oh, ho!” Rarity smirked. “I smell a secret.”

Horseapples! How long had Twilight forgotten to stay in character? How many things had she let slip?

Heedless to Twilight’s internal panic, Rarity continued on with her ruminations. “Surely you’re not the princess or the archmage in disguise. They’re much too busy for this sort of small-scale intrigue. Princess Mi Amore Cadenza isn’t a unicorn, and you clearly have magic. Certainly not her parents, and last I heard, her husband was still in Canterlot. Perhaps somepony from Prince Blueblood’s line? No, they’re well accounted for with his birthday soirée approaching. Perhaps one of our ambassadors due to return home–”

“Rarity, what does it matter?”

“What does it matter? Why, darling, intrigue is the spice of life! Oh, but do rest assured, I’ll keep this to myself. There’s no fun in a secret exposed.”

Twilight heaved an exasperated sigh. I suppose she’s not likely to reveal me after what I’ve done for her sister. “Fine. But not a word to anypony not in the know, Sweetie Belle included.”

In a surprising move, Rarity voluntarily underwent a Pinkie Promise without prompting. It was then, to Twilight’s immense frustration, when she felt no particular stirring of magic upon its invocation. She had too many stories of it being a legitimate phenomenon to ignore completely, yet at the same time, she now had no idea how it worked – if it worked as advertised. Perhaps Pinkie Pie had managed to inflate her reputation beyond her actual abilities through some clever manipulations. It didn’t seem her style – or even like something she had the mental capacity for – but perhaps that was part of the ruse.

For the moment, Twilight pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. Science could wait. She had a dramatic reveal to deal with which she hoped to keep as undramatic as possible despite her audience’s obvious penchant for drama.

“You were a little quick to dismiss me from consideration. Honestly, other than Celestia, who else would you expect to be able to tutor Sweetie Belle? My brother?” Twilight scoffed. “He’d never make a convincing mare. The whole village would know within an hour.”

It took less than a second for Rarity to connect the dots. “Your Excellency!” As she scrambled to her hooves in a near panic to bow, she continued, “I apologise for my sister’s behavior and for my informality.”

Twilight cut Rarity off with a hoof. “Don’t. I’m here to get away from all that while I work.”

Although hesitant at first, Rarity acceded to the request. “If you insist.” And then the other shoe dropped. “Oh, Sweetie Belle will be so excited! She simply adores you, you know. You will tell her eventually, won’t you?”

“Most likely, yes.” It would depend on a few factors. How much did Twilight want to emulate her own mysterious first mentor? How would Sweetie Belle respond to Index disappearing without a trace? Would the likely inevitable search benefit her? Would it be safer for her not to know if Celestia lost? While Twilight was inclined to reveal her identity at some future point, she would need to think about it a little more.

Twilight rose to her hooves. “I should get going.” It would probably be best to let Rarity ride out her initial surprise and excitement on her own. “This was my first time at a spa, and I rather enjoyed it. You have my thanks for that. I imagine we’ll see each other again soon.”





“Hmm, the mayor is one busy little bee, isn’t she?” The new dossier in Index’s magic had substantially more details of the coming festival decided upon over only the past day. Most appeared minor and tedious at a glance but ultimately essential. “Is it fine if I stop by every day for a new copy?”

Amethyst Star, nodding with a bit of a laugh, said, “It’s no problem at all. Would you like another seven or eight copies? The mayor is pedantic about her paperwork. Everything is filed in triplicate and ready to duplicate at a moment’s notice. We keep one copy here, send one out of town to a secret storage facility, and lock a third underground at another site in Ponyville in case of fire or monster attack.”

Index quirked an eyebrow. “I guess I can’t fault her for having her priorities in order, but one is plenty for me, thank you. Give me the highlights?”

“There’s not much to tell. Fluttershy says her animal friends’ choir has agreed to participate in the festival. She’ll supposedly be conducting them as usual, but I’m a bit worried she may bolt or not even show up.”

Index cocked her head to the side and asked why.

“She’s terribly shy. Hence the name, I suppose. She has a few friends here and there but otherwise likes to stay out of sight. The last time a large group came through town, we didn’t see her until two days after they left.”

Well, good I know that in advance. I suppose that means I need to get one of her friends to come with me if I want to meet her. Pinkie Pie should work fine for that. It did occur to Index to wonder how that hyperactive pony hadn’t given Fluttershy a heart attack when initially befriending her. “Anything else?”

Amethyst Star shrugged. “Only if you find weather management interesting. Can’t stand the work myself. Dash finally got around to finalizing the weather schedule up to the festival. We’ll have a bunch of extra light showers and a heavier storm before then to compensate for a week of pure spring sunshine.”

With that, Index and Amethyst Star said their goodbyes. On her way past the mayor’s office out of town hall, Index noticed a line of ponies who looked like out-of-towners awaiting for an audition standing outside it. As I said, one busy little bee.

When Index stepped outside, she saw Pinkie Pie prancing across the square. She heard the mare wish each pony she passed a happy birthday in an arbitrary number of days, all of which were apparently correct judging by the positive responses from the ponies in question. What a strange pony.

Suddenly, Pinkie Pie’s tail started twitching in a manner oddly reminiscent of how she’d vibrated the last morning. Index knew at once what lay before her. A chance to observe the Pinkie Sense! She pulled out her notes on the pink enigma and started recording what occurred.

First, the more observant ponies in the area bolted away from Pinkie Pie as quickly as they could, some seeking shelter under buildings and some simply heading for the hills.

Second, the less observant ponies, after being shoved and jostled out of the way, picked up on the message and joined the first group in their flight.

Third, Pinkie Pie herself ducked under a nearby bench and covered her head with a novelty umbrella hat which she had, for lack of a more discernible origin, congealed from the aether when Index blinked.

Only moments later, the sound of something shattering carried through the air.

Index’s quill paused in its faithful labor. It may not have been the sound of Index’s world view breaking, but it certainly was confirmation that it had broken.

So…precognition exists.

Shuffling that thought to the back of her mind as quickly as she could, Index returned to recording her observations. Denial, frustration, and likely some philosophical dread could come later. Looking toward where the sound had originated, she spotted a broken flowerpot a few houses down from where Pinkie Pie had taken cover.

While Index logged her findings, Pinkie Pie and the rest of the crowd returned to their normal business. This event worthy of hundreds of academic papers was, for them, nothing new nor unexpected. It was just part of their view of the world, something no less mundane than gravity.

Index slipped back inside town hall. Once she verified that there was nopony in the lobby, she concealed her presence from eyes, ears, nose, and horn with a few advanced spells. It was imperative she be allowed to observe her specimen in its natural habitat without notice – assuming Pinkie Pie didn’t have a Pinkie Sense to tell her when she was being followed. A pair of gossamer wings sprouted from Index’s back. They were fragile, but they would suffice to allow her to trail her subject undisturbed. She just needed to avoid bumping into pegasi to remain hidden.

Quill once more at the ready, Index stepped back outside, located Pinkie Pie, and set after her through the air for science.





On the outskirts of Ponyville was a cloud, and not just any cloud, but the Cloudominium. This was a massive structure built by and built for the most awesome pony in Equestria. Four stories high with rainbow accents in both liquid and vapor form and Cloudsdale architecture, only the best of the best could live there. Once, the Cloudominium had stayed closer to the ground. Ponyville’s postal service had refused to rent Cherry Berry’s hot air balloon solely to deliver mail to it or to provide other special accommodations. But ever since Derpy, their first pegasus postmare, had joined the service, it had soared unfettered high in the sky, far out of the reach of anything without wings, as the one and only cloud home in town.

Scootaloo pulled along a partially solidified cloud tethered to her magic to an advantageous position a few hundred meters removed from her idol’s residence. Upon it rested a bucket of water to be used for construction purposes. After every visit, Rainbow Dash cleared away the stairs she made to force her to practice her weather magic. It was annoying that her mentor continued to do so even now, but she couldn’t argue with the results. She’d mastered the art of cloud control far beyond what most pegasi were capable of under Rainbow Dash’s instruction.

Looking up and shielding her eyes from the sun, Scootaloo eyed the angle between her position and the Cloudominium. She judged herself to be in a decent position, neither steep enough to make for a difficult ascent nor so gentle that she’d run out of building material. As such, she started evaporating the water in her bucket and latched onto the vapor with her magic. She then waited until she felt she had an acceptable surplus as a safety net. It was, by this point, something she did on instinct. Rainbow Dash’s first rule of being awesome was to make sure that being not awesome, however unlikely, didn’t prevent you from being awesome in the future. She’d had that unbreakable law drilled into her head for years.

In all honesty, Scootaloo thought it’d mostly been for her friends’ benefit. She tended to be the one who kept the Crusaders from getting themselves killed. Apple Bloom could get carried away in their projects if left unchecked, and while Sweetie Belle was there to patch them up afterward and even sometimes bail them out in emergencies, she had little restraint when she got lost in her magic.

Now ready for the climb, Scootaloo took a step forward. A cloud leapt into being beneath her hoof, forming the first stair to the Cloudominium. She continued on this way up into the sky, tugging her bucket along to provide more water vapor as she went. It was so easy and natural these days, she could do it in her sleep.

Once Scootaloo reached her destination, a trail of tiny clouds dotted the sky behind her back to the ground. She left the cloud carrying her bucket behind and approached Rainbow Dash’s front door, whereupon she knocked. A minute passed, after which it opened to reveal the mare in question.

“Hey, Squirt. You’re early.”

“Yeah, I know. But I’ve got news.”

Rainbow Dash stepped aside. Scootaloo entered, found her usual spot, and grabbed a few sweets already set out for her.

“So what’s the news?” Rainbow Dash asked as she sat down across from Scootaloo.

“Get this. There’s a new pony in town who thinks she’s cooler than you.”

With a single beat of her wings, Rainbow Dash leapt to her hooves and said, “What! Who is this pony?”

“It’s that festival mare, Index Code. She came in and saved Sweetie Belle during that stampede, and now Sweetie Belle thinks she’s the best pony ever. I’d bet that the ponies that witnessed it think so, too.”

“Rescuing ponies is my job! I mean, it’s great Sweets is fine and all, but I gotta defend my turf. What does she look like?”

Scootaloo hadn’t gotten the best look at the mare, but she cast her mind back to the stampede. “Roughly your age, maybe a little younger. Light-yellow. White mane and tail. I think it was in a braid.”

The description made Rainbow Dash pale.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Rainbow Dash hastily denied. “I guess I can’t be everywhere in town at once. Maybe I should think about getting a sidekick.”

“Hey! What about me?”

“I’d say you’re more of a protégé or a little sister.”

Scootaloo flushed and looked away. “W-well, I guess that’s fine too.”

“Anyway, you were right to bring this to my attention, Squirt. I’ll have to check out what’s going on tomorrow.”

“Not today?”

“Nah. We’ve still got your lessons to take care of. I was thinking we’d go long today and eat out together when we’re done. We can go ahead and start if you’re ready.”

“Let’s do this!” Scootaloo set down the remains of her snack and hopped up from her seat with a happy buzz of her wings.

The pair of pegasi left for the collection of clouds the Cloudominium called a lawn. Rainbow Dash separated a small section of it around them and then, with practiced ease, commanded the platform to ascend further into the sky. They only stopped climbing when Ponyville below looked like an ant colony.

“You doing okay, Squirt?”

“No problem!” There had been a time not so very long ago when the chill of even mild heights would nip at her, but no longer.

“Awesome. Then in that case we’ll skip the basics and start work on the really cool stuff. How have you been doing with cloud condensation?”

“I’m still not fast enough for cloud hopping without a water source nearby, but I’m fast enough to keep myself from crashing into the ground. Usually.” One of the few things about being a pegasus which Scootaloo had always been able to take for granted was the lower density and crash resistance, but long falls still hurt.

Rainbow Dash hummed thoughtfully as she tapped a hoof to her jaw. “Keep working on that on your own for now, then. Cloud hopping looks really, really sweet when you get it down. We just need to keep building your magic up. For now, let’s work on your skating. You know what to do.”

Scootaloo focused her magic around her hooves, attracting some of the cloud around them into four fluffy balls which attached to her. Plucking her new skates out of the rest of the cloud, she took a step with each hoof into the air. She stayed fixed in place there, beaming.

“Not bad, Squirt. You’re getting a lot faster at that. Way better than you used to be, that’s for sure.” Rainbow Dash hopped into the air with a little assistance from her wings. Clouds appeared at her hooves, all four taking a much more stylish winged appearance than Scootaloo’s simple spheres. “You’ve gotten walking down reasonably well, so today we’re going to try proper skating. I suppose it’s more like running if you want to get technical, but you’d be smart to take a few cues from your accomplice. Now watch closely, because if you mess up your form, there’s no telling where you’re going to end up.”

A few minutes passed as Scootaloo watched Rainbow Dash’s legs intently. They lazily moved back and forth in a sweeping motion like a cross between a trot and the way Sweetie Belle skated. While Rainbow Dash traced circles around her, she made a few cautious movements and started forward slowly. Unlike the cloud walking she’d already learned, which required her to do nothing more than move normally, this was a smooth, flowing motion. When she made a mistake, instead of a jerky stop, she was sent flailing about with her limbs pulling her in every which way until Rainbow Dash stabilized her.

“Pretty decent for a first timer,” Rainbow Dash said. “Your goal right now should be to learn to keep your balance. Speed can come after that. If you completely wipe out, I’ll catch you, so just do your thing. You’ll probably be ready to start practicing on your own in a couple weeks, but until then, first rule of being awesome.”

“Make sure that being not awesome, however unlikely, doesn’t prevent me from being awesome in the future,” Scootaloo quoted flatly. “I won’t try this without supervision. Promise.”

Scootaloo started moving forward again, slowly improving her form until she managed to get to a constant, slow drift.

“All right,” Rainbow Dash began, “you’ve learned to crawl forward. Now it’s time to learn to turn. There’s a better way to do this, but we’ll start simple. All you need to do is lean into the direction you want to go.”

Rainbow Dash demonstrated the technique as she had before, but this time she made large, dramatic movements to better show off the principle. “Got it?”

“I think so…”

Scootaloo got her drift going again and tried turning only to end up spinning about her nose along her spinal axis straight toward the ground. Once Rainbow Dash caught her and halted her descent, she gave a sheepish, “Whoops.”

“No problem, Squirt. Just keep trying. We’re going to get you from here to town by the end of the day or die trying.”





Greetings from the weirdest place on Equus!

That really says it all, doesn’t it? Ponyville is…it’s like if you walked through a mirror and ended up in a strange alternate dimension. Did you know they have a store here that exclusively sells sofas and quills? Yeah. I don’t see the connection, and neither did my tour guide.

And that’s barely even scratching the surface! There are three blank flank fillies here who introduce themselves as the Cutie Mark Crusaders. I wouldn’t put them past being Discord’s offspring with the kind of chaos they create. At least two of them are brilliant. The third I don’t know much about yet. I accidentally tutored one of them (Sweetie Belle) after I saved her life before I realized who she was, so we’ll see where that goes. If Equestria is on fire by this time next moon, you know who to blame.

Speaking of, did you know ponds can burn? I sure didn’t. I suspect we’ll need to update our list of hazardous chemicals, but hey, I learned something about oxidation, and the Crusaders will likely have at least one academic paper under their wings once I nudge them in the right direction. Good times.

There’s a few changelings here. I actually met the princess of Chrysalis’s hive, which was neat. But (and to be honest, by now I don’t know what I was expecting) I also found an illegal immigrant from Aquestria. She put a hole right through my leg. I slapped a few suppressors on her horn in the end, but I’m still deciding what to do with her. I think I may extract a binding magical vow (see attached document) until life is less busy. We can talk it over together later. Her case is complicated.

The library here had a book specifically about the Elements of Harmony. It turned out to be pretty useless, but it was literally a reference guide for them. Not as detailed as the notes you gave me, but go figure.

I met Sweetie Belle’s older sister today. She was very different than my first impression of her suggested. I ended up commissioning her to make some magical clothing for me and then, to my chagrin, blew my cover with her. Still, she promised to remain silent, so all’s well that ends well. Probably for the best, anyway, if this is to be the start of a long business relationship.

Oh, we need check up on the state of the healthcare department. We may be slipping in rural areas or, if not that, then possibly with orphans. One of the Crusaders has malformed wings. I haven’t investigated further yet, but they didn’t look beyond repair at a glance.

Lastly, there’s this earth pony named Pinkie Pie who violated many of my (former) fundamental assumptions about reality. I’m currently sharing a room with her. I think we’re friends.

I would say more, but my field report will explain itself sufficiently. If you have any thoughts/ideas/suggestions please share.


The bemused and frazzled Twilight Sparkle who does so have social skills


P.S. My spymaster informs me that finding Sunset Shimmer has become a priority. What exactly happened between you two? From the silenced witnesses, your sister’s circumstances, and our own relationship, I have my suspicions, but I’d rather hear it from you than make assumptions.






A Study in Pinkie
Field Report

Participating Observers
Twilight Sparkle


Subject: Pinkie Pie (Pinkamena Diane Pie)
Scientific Name: Pinkius Pieicus (pending)
Nearest Related Species: Earth Pony(?)
Habitat: Urban Dwellings

A strange creature. From casual observations so far, Pinkie Pie seems able to survive purely on foods typically classified as desserts. She appears to suffer no negative effects from ingestion of other foods, but no long-term data could be obtained. Weak evidence is offered by the rest of Ponyville – her place of residence for nearly six years – from testimonials claiming that she has never been sick outside of one food poisoning incident which would send anypony to the hospital.

A ‘Pinkie Promise’ is a simple ritual wherein a pony recites the line ‘cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye’ with an accompanying gesture of sticking a cupcake in one’s eye. There is no consensus on which eye should be chosen or if it matters, nor which hoof. In so doing, a vow is made.

Witness testimony (see Appendix D) provides evidence for the consequences of breaking a Pinkie promise. As the provided testimony suggests, Pinkie Pie is somehow able to know exactly by who, when, and where a Pinkie Promise is broken. She does not seem to receive information concerning the circumstances nor the contents of the vow. However, her enforcement of oaths made in her name gives way to no excuses. Although oathbreakers live to see another day, they are not unchanged (see Appendix E). No testimony could be elicited from them as they outright refused to even acknowledge questions on the subject.

On a lighter note, further testimony reveals that one can be released from a Pinkie Promise with no further consequences. This is in keeping with Pinkie Pie’s belief that ‘losing a friend’s trust is the fastest way to lose a friend forever’. A promise need be kept only when it remains wanted. There are, of course, ways to abuse this system that seem to elude her worldview, but there’s little doubt her vengeance would be twice as fierce and turn on the transgressor if confronted with such.

Early hypotheses to explain the mechanics of Pinkie Promises (documented in Appendix A) have proven themselves unlikely to hold water.

The subject also exhibits many other odd behaviors and abilities, some of which may be attributable to ordinary earth pony magic.

Pinkie Pie is capable of near-teleport bursts of movement. This includes a superb sense of balance and a resistance to high accelerations. She has utilized this for a few observed purposes so far including but not limited to avoiding falling objects and preparing and cleaning up miniature parties. See Appendix B for a list of observed uses by witnesses.

Additionally, the subject is capable of retrieving and storing some objects seemingly from nowhere in a manner similar to subspace storage. The most frequent object to make an appearance is a cannon which fires, among other things, confetti. With smaller objects, she often uses her mane as a medium for this exchange, although nothing indicates that this is a necessary action.

Evidence also suggests the social portion of Pinkie Pie’s brain is highly advanced. She knows thousands of ponies on an individual level and purports to be friends with them all, showing no concern for the postulated Dunbar’s number, nor any higher value. The level of detailed knowledge of their lives she exhibits implies that these are, somehow, meaningful relationships on some level.

For future observation, Pinkie Pie keeps a toothless alligator named Gummy as a pet. No interesting phenomena have been observed with regards to him other than being an alligator.

Most troubling of all is the ability referred to as the ‘Pinkie Sense’. The Pinkie Sense allows Pinkie Pie to predict certain events which have not yet occurred. This suggests we have a fundamental misconception of the universe. The following procedure was performed to confirm the efficaciousness of the Pinkie Sense regarding falling objects.

Flip a bit. If heads, drop a flower pot near Pinkie Pie. If suns, take no action. Wait one minute, and then repeat for some sufficiently large number of trials.

The phenomenon known as ‘Twitchy Tail’ successfully occurred on twelve out of twelve heads and no ‘Twitchy Tail’ was observed on fourteen out of fourteen suns. The ‘Twitchy Tail’ event has a five second mean foresight with minor variance likely attributable to magical fluctuations or reaction times in the subject.

Note that deliberate contradiction of the ‘Twitchy Tail’ event was not attempted. Further extraordinarily cautious studies will need to be undertaken to determine what effect a paradox would have on the universe. It may be possible that time is cyclic and, by nature, disallows paradoxes. If so, the universe is very fortunate.

Among the many other events the Pinkie Sense reveals is the foreknowledge of doors opening unexpectedly, bee attacks(?), and shocking events (doozies). See Appendix C for a full list and details of alleged and confirmed Pinkie Senses.

It should be noted that the ability to predict any one event can be used to predict any other event through judicious application of the given event only in the presence of the desired alternate event in a controlled environment.

On a less professional note, I call dibs on all the casinos in Las Pegasus. I’ve always wanted my own pyramid, and I hear the castle there has a moat.

Fortunately, Pinkie Pie appears to be a benign creature mainly interested in celebrations, friendship, and the celebration of friendship. Her personality, in the absence of a deep deception, is suited for neither great evil nor mischief beyond foalish pranks. Every effort should be made to ensure she remains this way. For anypony getting bad ideas, it is important to stress that the Pinkie Sense would almost certainly make it impossible to capture or terminate her. Do not attempt.

Current hypotheses to explain the subject are the following:

Pinkie Pie has a deep understanding of earth pony magic on at least an instinctual level. Possible, as earth pony magic is by far the least studied of the three main Equestrian branches of magic.

Pinkie Pie is the offspring of Discord.

Pinkie Pie is not an earth pony and has somehow managed to confound my detection abilities. While this seems reasonable at first blush, a very strong brute force counter spell had no noticeable effect on her, nor did she react to it. Attempts to disable any artifacts in her possession met with similar results.

Pinkie Pie is the target of a grand global magic and receives aid and information from it.

Pinkie Pie is significantly smarter than the average pony and understands something about the universe we do not, exploiting it for her own amusement. Weak evidence for, given her observed, if unfocused, intelligence.

Further observations will appear in a later field report.





Apple Bloom stared mournfully at her clubhouse. Repairing the years of neglect since Applejack had last used it as a young filly was the first thing the Crusaders ever had done together. Every time they had to rebuild it, it lost a little of what had originally made it special. And now? Now its structural integrity was completely gone. She hated to admit it, but they would have to tear it down and start over from scratch. At least now they would have the opportunity to add in all the bells and whistles. That was something.

A long sigh escaped Apple Bloom as, having taken the measurements she’d needed, she turned away from her clubhouse. I need to get Scoots to ask Dash or Derpy to come by. Either should have the whole thing down in ten seconds flat. Big Mac can haul the wreckage away. Then we can start fresh. I need to remember to leave room for stairs up to a high tower for Scoots to start her glides off of. Though now that I think of it, she hasn’t been bothering me for one for a while now. Might need to ask if she still wants it.

What else? I’ll need Sweetie Belle to learn a few more spells to create all of the electrical components I’ll need. A continuous conjuration ain’t a long-term solution, so we’ll need something more permanent. Worst case, I guess we’ll have to mail order. Apple Bloom sighed at the costs involved. Electronics were such a niche field in Equestria with a small enough supply to drive prices through the roof. It was such a shame. Electricity scaled far better than magic.

At her workbench, Apple Bloom recorded the final measurements she’d needed to rebuild their clubhouse. They really should take the opportunity to move it out of the tree Applejack had originally built it in, but there was too much tradition and meaning to put it anywhere else. As she made some initial sketches, her thoughts turned back to what other major requirements she had to engineer around.

I’m gonna need to set up a generator. Potato power ain’t gonna cut it anymore. Powering it with magic is probably the easiest solution. I’ll need to ask Sweetie Belle if it’d be better for her to use something like a hoof crank or if I should build a steam engine for her to sink heat into. Thinking about it, it appeared to be a simple trade-off. The former had greater efficiency with no middlemare involved in the energy conversion. The latter, however, had superior ease of use. Sweetie Belle could cast and forget a warming spell, only occasionally adding more power into it.

Hmm, you know, I reckon steam is the way to go regardless. I can use it even when Sweetie Belle ain’t around if I install a firebox and set it up right. Either way, I need to know how much I can get from her before I start bucking an empty tree.

“Soup’s on, everypony!” came the distant bellow of Applejack.

Hesitating briefly, Apple Bloom set out for the main building and another round of cheek rubbing. Recently, a few too many members of the extended family had arrived for the reunion set to begin the week before the solstice, most of them old and needing more time to travel, recuperate, and do whatever it was old ponies did together. They also had an insatiable desire to fuss over the youngest member of the family present.

The usual series of benches for such a large gathering of hungry ponies were arrayed outside. Each overflowed with more apples and apple related grub than anywhere else in Equestria, and then, of course, there were the Apples themselves. They’d gathered in a circle at one end of the table and crowded around its presumed occupant. From the direction of her approach, Apple Bloom couldn’t see who was the center of attention.

“What’s all the fuss about?” Apple Bloom asked. “Did Babs turn up or something?”

Apple Cider, one of the few members of the family not compelled or even interested in treating Apple Bloom like a newborn foal, turned from her own conversation to answer the question. “Your sister dragged some fancy city pony here to sample our food for the festival. Think she said something or other about thanking her for something too.”

Ah, must be that Index Code Sweetie Belle went on about. Apple Bloom gave her thanks and found a safe spot at the table where she could eat a quick dinner in peace away from her overly enthusiastic relatives. And sure enough, when she managed a glance down the table, she found nearly every member of the Apple family present trying to feed Sweetie Belle’s new hero more than her own weight in secret Apple family recipes, and nopony was taking no for an answer.

Apple Bloom tried to ignore the problem. It was a dangerous world out there for a filly. But there was nothing else for it. She’d suffered the same fate only a couple days ago, and the hurt was too fresh not to sympathize. She’d passed mostly unnoticed so far, so she quickly stuffed the rest of her own meal into her mouth and then leapt to the rescue.

Once she’d pushed her way through the crowd, Apple Bloom called out, “Excuse me! Miss Index Code, I need to talk to you something urgent.” Ignoring the protestations of the rest of the family, she continued, “I have a message from the mayor.”

Those were the magic words. Index Code leapt onto the excuse with concealed enthusiasm and got the two of them safely out of there. Once they had found a quiet place to speak, she asked, “What does the mayor want?”

“Nothing.” Apple Bloom shrugged. “You just looked like you needed some help.”

The reminder made Index Code visibly force down the urge to retch. Fortunately, she managed to spare both of them from seeing her dinner a second time. “Ugh… I’ve never eaten so much before. Thank you for the help. I was about ready to snap back there. I have no idea how I kept myself under control that long. Anyway, you’re Apple–” She twitched and covered her mouth at the mention of apples.

“You can just call me Bloom for the moment, if you want.”

“Thanks. You can just call me Index as well. It’s what I usually go by.”

“Right, then. Sweetie Belle told me a lot about ya. I’d like to thank you myself for what you did. Uh, you know, rather than torture you.”

Index offered a strained smile.

“I hope you won’t hold what just happened against her. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only pony with a full bale of hay round here, and I’m sure you know how ridiculous that must sound.”

“Eh, even if she’d arranged this, a little overeager hospitality is far from the worst gratitude I’ve ever received. Besides, I don’t often get to meet fillies with real talent in magic. I’m eager to see what she makes of herself. That, and curious what particular form her cutie mark will take with all the fuss you Crusaders raise about it.”

“Huh?” That sounded an awful lot like Index meant – “Sweetie Belle’s supposed to get a cutie mark in magic?”

“Nopony is supposed to get anything. Does the pony cause the cutie mark, or does the cutie mark cause the pony? Is it choice, or is it destiny? You can debate the philosophy of it, but there’s no practical distinction. A pony gets the cutie mark best suited to them. It may not be what they want or expect at the time, but it does express a core, unchanging facet of who they are. Cutie mark dysphoria is rare for a reason, after all, and usually quickly resolved. The worst case I’ve ever seen was Starlight Glimmer. She collected ponies suffering as she did and made everything worse. What a mess that was. Turned out she just missed her friend and wanted something to blame.”

Apple Bloom blinked. “Right…”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry. I recently discovered a deeper aspect of meaning to my cutie mark which I’m unsure how to feel about, so I’ve been thinking about the subject perhaps a bit too much. The point is, with a little self-reflection, it’s usually not too hard to figure out what your cutie mark will be.”

“What!” Apple Bloom stomped her hoof hard on the ground. “My sister keeps telling me I’ll get it when I get it, but you’re telling me all this time she could’ve just told me what I need to do to get it?”

“Well…sort of. I more or less knew what mine was years before it finally appeared. I could likely guess yours myself from the stories I’ve heard.”

Apple Bloom opened her mouth.

“But,” Index continued, “that’s for you to discover.”

“Oh, come on!” Apple Bloom protested. “I’m way too old to be a blank flank.”

It was far too obvious that Index found this all amusing. “Trust me. It’s for the best. The actual biomagical process that makes your cutie mark appear has a psychological trigger. You don’t want to know what I had to do to get mine.”

“You’re just like everypony else! No help at all!”

Index smirked. “Have I not been?”

“No!”

And Index just laughed. “At any rate, you don’t need to have a cutie mark in something to be good at it, nor does having a cutie mark in something mean you’ll be the best at it. You should probably share that little tidbit with the rest of the Crusaders.” She eyed the path back toward where the family had gathered for dinner. No shortage of inquisitive, impatient, or inviting looks were sent her way. “I’m going to get going while the coast is clear. I’ll see you another time, Bloom.”

Running off at a fast trot, not doing a particularly good job of pretending to be anything other than fleeing, Index left down the road back to Ponyville proper. She beat an odd path along the way. While much of it could be ascribed to a sore, bloated stomach, Apple Bloom suspected it had just as much to do with keeping herself out of line of sight as much as possible.

Then, with a start, Apple Bloom realized that she needed to disappear as well. Everypony was going to want to tan her hide when they found out she’d let Index escape before sampling their own special family recipe. And worse, once that was done, all of their attention would be back on her.





Twilight,

Please understand that I love you and respect you when I write this, but you can come home anytime. You have, so far, saved a filly, commented on the state of the nation, captured a criminal(?), read a book, commissioned your next gala dress, and composed a lengthy scientific document. I thought you said you were going to make friends.

On that note, however, congratulations on befriending a pinkius pieicus. I thought they went extinct during the great sugar shortage of 887. So many cakes never baked…

On a more serious note, I know of only a few very, very minor time magics, none of which approach the distressing magnitude of what you described. They all involve moving backward in time in a very limited manner, not forward. But then one direction is much the same as the other when it comes to closed time loops. Naturally, none of these spells are available to the public. They’re in my personal collection if you need them.

Moon Dancer and I have been getting along well. She finds the work we gave her as tedious as you do, but she has been very helpful. Our preparations at the Old Castle are coming along apace as well. Having a second horn go over the changes you made has proven invaluable.

I am distinctly unsurprised to learn Queen Chrysalis hid the existence of her hive’s princess from us. I assumed she had at least one but never considered it a matter worth pressing. I wonder if my conversation with her led to this reveal.

As for Sunset Shimmer…

You know me too well for euphemistic rhetoric. You are, of course, correct to assume that I groomed her to bear Magic before you. The mistake I made with you was in my desire to keep you close. The mistake I made with her was in my desire to keep my distance. She wanted more from me than I allowed myself to give. In hindsight, I fear I may have sent some mixed messages. The details are private and best consigned to the past. It suffices to say our falling out made me confront how little I’d changed since I drove Luna to madness.

As pertains to your quest, Sunset stole Luna’s crown. Regardless of how this conflict ends, it must be returned to the diarchy’s possession.


Celestia


P.S. If you could donate some of your winnings to the treasury, Cadance has a delightful project she wanted to start up that needs initial capital to get off the ground.





Index had just escaped from the Feast of a Thousand Apples – she was going to have nightmares about that, she was sure – when Celestia’s reply to her letter crackled into existence in a burst of fire. The flame sending spell was ever so useful. Every unicorn should know the pony adaptation of that little bit of dragon magic, but sadly, so few bothered to learn it.

As she unsealed her letter, Index said, Let’s see what we have here… She harrumphed at the first remark and then frowned over the next. If even Celestia had never run into somepony like Pinkie Pie before, then the mare was a true aberration. “I swear, if she turns out to be her own mother or something…”

With a shake of her head, Index continued reading. It was good to hear Celestia was getting on well with Moon Dancer. But when she came to the section on Sunset, she gaped. The moment she recovered her ability to speak, a storm of obscenities forced their way past her lips. Sunset stole Luna’s crown! She had so many questions. How did Sunset do it? Why did she do it? How did she even know about it, let alone find it? Did anypony else know about it? How on Equus had Celestia even let this happen in the first place? It was the crown of a diarch of Equestria! If anypony found out about this, they’d be a laughingstock in the very best case scenario.

Index pressed both of her forehooves into her face in a vain attempt to make the nightmare go away. Why does everything get worse every single day? Discord is going to break free before this is over. I just know it.

As the letter contained nothing she needed to keep on record, Index burnt it to ashes and vanished the remains for good measure. She breathed deep and pushed the matter of Sunset from her mind for now. She could pop off to go say hello and maybe settle things peacefully later when she had a better handle on her primary quest.

Index’s next stop after the Apple family diversion was Lyra. She pulled her saddlebags from her bag of holding and, under the assumption that Bon Bon would be home as well, stuffed the Elements of Harmony inside them. Bon Bon easily qualified as tolerable and seemed like a good pony. If she could bond with an Element, that would make Index’s life all the easier.

She really needed something to be easy right now.

Sweet Apple Acres was aptly named thus. Since Index had little inclination to walk a quarter of its entire breadth again, she teleported most of the way back to town. From there, it was only a short distance to Bon Bon and Lyra’s house. Here’s hoping something goes right for once. Index knocked on the front door. At most half a minute later, Bon Bon opened it.

“Oh, good.” For some reason, Bon Bon wore a weary look about her as though she’d just escaped from Tartarus. “You’re here for Lyra, right?”

“Yes, actually. How did you know?” As far as Index could recall, she and Lyra had arranged no particular time for her return.

Bon Bon heaved a long sigh. “She told me to let her know as soon as you arrived. She’s locked herself in the master bathroom for four hours now. Apparently, she needs your help with ‘unicorn stuff’.”

“Unicorn stuff? What–” It occurred to Index then that she might have gotten a little distracted multiple times today. The magic sustaining the polymorph she’d cast on Lyra must have run out and reverted her back into seapony form. “Ahhhh,” she said, feigning more realization than she felt. “Sounds serious. I’ll just go check on her, then.”

Bon Bon let out another sigh. “Upstairs. Take a left. It should be the only door that’s closed.” And with that, she wandered off with a despondent air lingering about her like a storm cloud, head hung low.

Index made a note to check up on that once she was done with the seapony in the bathroom. She couldn’t keep the smirk off her face at that mental image. This was going to be fun. Up the stairs and down the hall, she found the door Bon Bon had described. She casually unlocked it with a bit of magic and, after applying a few minor privacy spells, walked right in.

As expected, the entire room was a mess. There were puddles of water scattered across the floor which hadn’t yet been able to evaporate. Treacherous soaps lay in wait for the unwary hoof. One lonely towel, well past the limit of its absorption, sat in a clump against a wall. Lyra the seapony floated in the bathtub in the midst of it all looking very put out and equally uncomfortable.

“Fix this. Now.”

“Such hostility. I wonder if I should.”

Lyra winced, likely from having tried to summon up her magic, and muttered a curse under her breath. “Now!”

“Is that how you ask for favors?”

A wave of water flung itself from the tub toward Index under the direction of Lyra’s powerful tail fin, but she just redirected it back toward its source.

“I don’t know your customs well, but that didn’t sound like a please.”

It was bitter and through narrowed eyes, but Lyra did bite out a muttered, “Please.”

“Oh, all right.” A quick flash of magic later and Lyra was once more a unicorn. “Better?”

Lyra sank lower in the tub with a sense of calm she’d not possessed even a few seconds ago. “Yes. Still mad, though.”

“Well then, I have good news to lift your spirits. I looked into the whole Pinkie Promise thing. I have no idea how it works, but I’m willing to just let it go for the moment and assume the local time mage is creating frivolous closed time loops to enforce them.”

“Time mage?” Lyra echoed. “Pinkie?” After a moment of reflection, she said, “That does make sense, actually.”

Not that it came close to explaining the full scope of Pinkie Pie. But that wasn’t what Index was here to talk about. “So here’s the deal. The princess and the archmage are very busy right now. Until they have time to sort out your situation, if you promise to obey Equestrian law to the best of your ability, neither take nor encourage another’s actions to impede your ability to do so, and keep yourself available for a summons, I’ll remove the suppressors on your horn.”

“Fine, whatever. It’s not like I was planning anything anyway.” Lyra ran through the motions of the Pinkie Promise.

As soon as Lyra finished, Index pulled out her notes on Pinkie Pie and began another entry.

“What are you doing?”

“Recording experimental data,” Index idly replied. “I expected a vengeful Pinkie Pie to be shouting retribution on her way here by now. You’re breaking Equestrian law, after all.”

Lyra’s eyes widened as she threw herself against the walls of her tub and tried to hide. “What am I doing wrong?”

“Illegal immigration. And probably a few property law violations. Your wards extend past the land Bon Bon owns, and I highly doubt you asked her permission to place them.”

“I…” Lyra had no defense against that.

“Interesting,” Index mumbled as she wrote. This was a tainted experiment, of course. She’d chosen a wording which would allow Lyra to stumble over obscure laws nopony remembered or cared about. But still, she could call this weak evidence that Pinkie Promises didn’t operate under the subjective truth of the pony who made them. Or if they did, then there was more nuance to them.

Index exchanged her notes for a folded slip of paper from her saddlebags. “Your visa.” Glancing around, she found somewhere dry and out of the way to deposit it.

“My visa?” A moment later, Lyra understood what had just happened. “Will you stop jerking me around!”

Eyes narrowing, Index snorted. “You put a hole through my–” She forced herself to bite her tongue. “–boss and friend. What do you expect?” With a huff that she swore found its way into her magic, she reached out and removed the suppressors from Lyra’s horn. “I’ll be downstairs with Bon Bon. You’ll need to remove or modify your wards as soon as reasonably possible.”

As Index left the bathroom behind, she tore down the privacy spells she’d placed upon it. She made her way to the living room where she found Bon Bon pacing back and forth and mumbling voicelessly to herself, seemingly locked in some internal debate.

“It’s okay, Bon Bon,” Index said. “Our tryst is over.”

Bon Bon faked a cough and, with an obvious blush, averted her eyes. “That’s not what’s bothering me.” She hesitated, reluctant, but ultimately asked, “What was keeping Lyra in the bathroom?”

“A lack of legs.”

The bemused look Bon Bon gave Index said everything for her.

“She stumbled over some poison joke earlier and turned into a seapony once the magic took hold. The nasty, psychopathic kind. I brewed an antidote for her.”

A few moments passed in silence as Bon Bon absorbed the explanation, one which offered a ready excuse in case Lyra ever blew her cover in the future. Index wondered why she hadn’t just told her marefriend something to that effect instead of acting so suspiciously and inviting the imagination to speculate over what secrets she could be hiding. Misdirection and half-truths were almost always easier to maintain than outright lies.

“Oh,” Bon Bon finally responded. “She’s already cured, then?”

Nodding, Index replied, “She’ll be down soon.”

“How unfortunate. I would have loved to see her as a seapony.” Bon Bon sighed at the missed opportunity. “Thank you for helping her. Lyra can be a bit…strange at times, but she’s a good pony.”

It may have just been her, but Index swore she’d heard a hint of emphasis on the last word.

“Would you care to stay for dinner?” Bon Bon continued.

Barely controlling her gag reflex, Index answered, “No thanks. I’ve already eaten.” Although she refused Bon Bon’s offer, she lifted her saddlebags off her back and laid them on the table. They ‘accidentally’ fell open, and an Element rolled out.

With a curious gaze far removed from the one Moon Dancer had previously displayed toward Magic, Bon Bon asked, “What’s that?” She tilted her head to better read the label. “Laughter?”

“I have no idea,” Index replied with a bit of indulgent exasperation. “Pinkie Pie gave five of them to me earlier and told me to carry them around. No explanation.” She rolled out the other four and, to her own surprise, found herself a little disappointed when Bon Bon didn’t react to any of them.

Sigh… With how wrong everything has been going, I don’t know why I expected this to be any different.

“Can I take a closer look?”

Index gestured for Bon Bon to go ahead with a hoof and fell into a chair. Maybe she would get lucky. Maybe Bon Bon just had enough mental fortitude to resist the call without displaying symptoms. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to let her run her hooves over them.

Taking the closest sphere, Bon Bon held it up to the light and looked inside it from every angle she could find. She went through each one, until she came to the last one, Honesty.

“So weird,” Bon Bon said. “I mean, this makes total sense for Pinkie in how little sense it makes, but I have no idea why anypony would want to make a set of orbs with a gemstone inside each.”

Meanwhile, Lyra had come downstairs and entered the room. “Hey, Bon Bon–”

Index whirled toward Lyra. That was the wrong tone of voice.

“–can I see that?”

Stunned, surprised, Index stood rooted to the ground as Lyra didn’t wait for permission. Her magic enveloped the Element and brought it over to her. The moment her hoof touched it, the same blinding light which had come from Magic’s awakening emanated from Honesty’s. When the process finished, a golden necklace lay draped over her hoof with an orange gem cut in the shape of a lyre inset as its centerpiece.

No.

“No.” Index said.

“No!” Twilight shouted.

“No.” Twilight screamed in the Royal Canterlot Voice.

Twilight teleported away, taking the remaining Elements with her.
> Chapter Seven - From Bad to Worse
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So this is where you always disappear to.” After a few curious glances and a little poking around the lab, it came time to ask the all-important question. “Why have you brought me here?”





Lyra stared at the necklace draped over her hoof. There was something absolutely wonderful about it, but she had no idea what. Aside from its odd origin, it looked and felt like an ordinary necklace, albeit one with her cutie mark expertly crafted and inset into it. Presumably, Index could tell her more about it, but that vindictive mare had teleported away in a fit.

Just a few steps away, Bon Bon, usually so unflappable even during Ponyville’s regular weekly crisis, had grown visibly agitated. Lyra wanted to ask what had her in such a mood, but her eyes drifted back to the necklace hanging from her hoof. She knew perfectly well not to put on magical artifacts without knowing what they did, especially ones which touched the mind, but common sense had deserted her. After a quick check to see how the clasp worked, she affixed it around her neck.

In an instant, Lyra’s mind cleared of the haze the necklace had put her under. She reeled upon realization of what had happened, but when she went to take the necklace off, she just couldn’t quite summon up the will to follow through. It was hers. She would not be parted from it. But that just magnified the cognitive dissonance running through her head. She’d never encountered something with even half as strong an effect on her during her tenure as the master of waters. Why in the deep depths had Index been carrying around something like this?

Lyra breathed out a long, calming breath, determined not to make herself overwrought. The necklace didn’t seem to be having any negative effects on her other than the overwhelming captivation to retain possession of it. She felt fine. It wasn’t siphoning her magic. In fact, she felt a little stronger, magic leaping slightly more readily to her call. It felt somewhat like the warm, tingly sensation horned species got when drawing power from external sources of magic. Perhaps wearing the necklace until Index returned and pried it from her cold dead hooves would be fine.

Lyra blinked. I need to get the possessiveness this thing induces under control.

But that could wait. Lyra had an anxious marefriend to soothe. She approached slowly and wraped a gentle arm around Bon Bon’s, pulling her into a nuzzle. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I…” That look in her eyes. Bon Bon wanted to say whatever was on her mind, but something held her back. “It’s nothing.”

A strange feeling surged through Lyra, more of a prickle than a tingle but with no discernible source nor target. It had to be something the necklace did, but what was the trigger and purpose?

“What about you?” Bon Bon deflected. “How are you feeling?”

There was the concerning matter of the necklace, but her personally? Now that she was a unicorn again, she had nothing a complain about. “Fine. Why?”

“Well, you did just spend multiple hours trapped in a bathtub as a seapony.”

Lyra drew in a hiss of breath. “Index told you, didn’t she?” And here she’d thought the mare had some decency in her.

“Oh, go easy on her,” Bon Bon said with a roll of her eyes. “It’s really not that embarrassing. We live in Ponyville. Everypony eventually stumbles over some stray poison joke.”

What? “Poison joke?” What in the unspeakable names of the abyss was that?

“Blue flower? Grows around the Everfree? About…yea high?” Bon Bon held a hoof up just above knee height. “It’s easy to miss if you’re not watching where you’re going. It has a different effect on everypony. Do you remember Pinkie walking through town with a ridiculous, shaggy coat?”

Now that Bon Bon mentioned it, Lyra did. That’d been years ago. She’d written it off as just another one of Pinkie’s antics. “Oh. I think Index used the scientific name for it when she explained what happened to me.”

There came that prickling again. It didn’t hurt. It just felt…indescribably weird for having experienced it only twice.

“That was odd,” Lyra mumbled to herself.

“Well, of course it was odd. It’s poison joke. It always does something strange. So what was being a seapony like?”

“I’d really rather not talk about it,” Lyra replied. That part of her life was over for good so long as she could convince the archmage to let her stay. Then rather sheepishly, knowing she hadn’t exactly been the easiest pony to be around, relatively speaking, for much of the day, she asked, “Is there any dinner left for me?”

“No.”

The prickling sensation occurred once more, although less intensely than before. Or perhaps it had a different grain?

“Oh. Okay.” Lyra couldn’t complain considering how she’d been today. “I guess I’ll just whip up something quick for myself.”

Bon Bon rolled her eyes. “You look like a kicked puppy.” She ran a hoof up Lyra’s neck until it came to a rest on a cheek. Then tilting Lyra’s head up, she moved in for a quick kiss. “While you’re at it, make extra for me. I haven’t eaten either.”

“You waited?” Lyra said with a silly grin on her face. “You shouldn’t have.”

No denial came from Bon Bon. She said, “Probably not, but eating alone is no fun.”

And again the prickling reared its mildly annoying head. It was the lesser variation as it had been last time. Was the magic causing it running out? The necklace’s tingling didn’t feel any different.

“Is something wrong?”

Lyra furrowed her brows. “I don’t know. This necklace is doing something, and I’m not sure what.”

“It’s probably nothing to worry about. Index said she got the, well, necklace, I guess, from Pinkie, and you know she attracts wacky, disruptive nonsense, not dangerous things.”

There was that lesser prickle again.

It was then that Lyra noticed a little slip of thin paper stuck under her hoof. When she levitated it up off the floor, it had only a single word written on it: Honesty. All at once, she understood and grinned.

“Two plus two equals three.”

The full force of the prickling met that statement.

“I have a pink coat.”

Another wave came.

“Princess Celestia is my mother.”

And another.

“I can play the lyre.”

This time no prickling bothered her.

“Lyra, what–”

“Who was your first crush?”

Bemused and a little annoyed at being interrupted, Bon Bon said, “Why on Equus are you asking me that right now?”

Because I’ve always suspected you lied about it. Of course, Lyra didn’t say that aloud. She instead went with, “I’m testing something. Just answer.”

Bon Bon sighed but did do as asked. “Octavia, as you well know.”

While Lyra had never doubted that her marefriend had a thing for musicians, the prickling told another story. Bon Bon had an embarrassing secret first crush! Oh, it was going to be such fun wheedling that information out of her. But for now, she had more experiments to perform.

“What’s your name?”

“What’s with all the questions?”

“Come on, Bon Bon. Please?” Lyra bent a little at the knees to make herself shorter than Bon Bon and adopted the cutest little pout. The tactic proved effective.

“Oh, very well. It’s Bon Bon.”

Lyra’s mood immediately cooled as she felt the lesser prickle again. “Is Bon Bon a nickname?” If so, why had it taken a magical necklace she was fairly certain could detect half-truths and lies for her to find out?

“Of course not,” Not Bon Bon replied. The lack of prickling to her words meant they were the truth, yet on the other hoof, her name wasn’t Bon Bon. But it’d been a lesser prickle when she’d said it was, so it also wasn’t not Bon Bon. What did that mean?

Now cautious, Lyra asked, “How long have you been together with me?”

“Five years.”

Relief swept through Lyra when her shiny new trinket had no reaction. Whatever was going on here, she at least had the right mare in her life. That would be enough to get them through anything. But before she pried too deeply into her marefriend’s secrets, it was only right to give Not Bon Bon fair warning lest this come back to buck her in the rear.

“All right, I know what this necklace does now. It lets me know when ponies lie or mislead.”

Not Bon Bon made a valiant effort, Lyra was sure, but her face paled beneath her creamy coat.

“So…we should probably talk.”

“I love you,” Not Bon Bon blurted out.

As the necklace didn’t react in the slightest, Lyra didn’t have to wonder in the slightest and easily replied, “I love you too.” Not to her surprise but certainly worth heeding, the necklace also approved of her declaration of affections. “Do you want to tell me what was bothering you after Index left, because it was not nothing?”

“I…” Not Bon Bon’s eyes shifted around the room. “Oh, Celestia, there are regulations for this sort of situation, but I have no idea what they are. The archmage stuffed the book with a bunch of nonsense years ago that nopony ever reads.”

That was, Lyra noted, all true.

“I think any explanation will have to wait until I get my instructions in order. If I’m right, that” – Not Bon Bon thrust a hoof at the necklace – “is way above my pay grade. Like we should expect the archmage or the princess herself to be knocking on our door soon above.”

Oh, that’s not good. The archmage was already unhappy with Lyra, and her faithful minion had just stormed off in anger over this. How doomed am I compared to how doomed I’d be for breaking a Pinkie Promise? Rather reluctantly, Lyra decided she’d probably be best off facing the archmage’s displeasure.

Not Bon Bon eyed the necklace warily. “Could you please take that thing off so I don’t have to watch everything I say?”

A hesitant spark of Lyra’s golden magic found the necklace’s clasp. She played with it, flicking it open and shut, as she gnawed on her lip. She should take it off. It’d only be polite, and she still had no idea what negative side effects the artifact might have beyond the obvious.

“Uh, Not Bon Bon–”

The mare in question facehoofed. “Please just refer to me as you usually do. I like being Bon Bon.” She leveled a significant look at Lyra. “You of all unicorns can understand that, can’t you?”

Uneasy laughter escaped Lyra. “Yeah… Um… So you…”

Rather than listen to Lyra’s failed attempts to ask what Bon Bon meant by that remark, she swept forward and pulled Lyra into a slow, passionate kiss. When it ended, she whispered, “Necklace off, love.”

Lyra, dazed, said, “Sure.”

A few seconds of blissful floating later, Bon Bon arched her eyebrows.

“Oh. Right.” Lyra summoned up her magic to try to remove the necklace again but found no more success than she had before. “This – this isn’t as easy as it looks. Could you do it for me?”

Bon Bon rolled her eyes but spun a hoof in a small circle. Lyra took the hint and turned around for her. When her hooves touched the necklace, however, Lyra took a hasty step forward away from them.

“What are you doing?” Bon Bon asked, her displeasure leaking into her tone.

The very next moment, Bon Bon’s earlier words proved prophetic. Rather than knocking on their door, however, the archmage herself teleported directly into their living room. “Trouble rather the dragon in his lair than part the Element from its mare.” She tilted her head from side to side in judgment of her own words. “Not quite a perfect adaptation of the idiom, but it gets the point across. Tearing myself away from my own Element was…an ordeal. A necessary one in my case whose end I greatly look forward to.”

The archmage sighed and took a seat uninvited. “Honesty is yours for life. The compulsion to keep it close is, as I’m sure you’ve already noticed, extraordinarily powerful. The longer you’re parted, the…well, not easier but more bearable its call becomes. The good news, however, is the Elements of Harmony are otherwise fully benign.” She summoned a scroll from nowhere and passed it off to a speechless Lyra. “That covers all of the known details about the Element of Honesty along with a basic primer on the rest of the Elements. Questions?”

Lyra had far too many to count.

Bon Bon found her voice first. “Your Excellency, could I have a private word?”

Although she seemed unsure where the request had come from, the archmage obliged and teleported herself and Bon Bon elsewhere. Lyra, left alone with nothing better to do, sat down and read through the scroll the archmage had given her. She’d already determined Honesty’s primary power, but the miniature manual therein contained fine details about its effective range and some musings on the limits of its powers and how to deceive its ability to perceive subjective truth. Additionally, all of the Elements provided a mild power boost and could be summoned from anywhere, even from behind wards, by their bearer.

It wasn’t that engaging of a read, but it did keep Lyra’s mind off of the fact that Bon Bon had all but confessed to having known what she was for depths knew how long.





Teleportation was something nopony should ever get used to. The archmage’s rendition proved far more pleasant than Sweetie Drops had suffered before, but she still stumbled upon arrival. When she regained her bearing enough to look around, she found that they were now, oddly enough, in Pinkie’s room at Sugarcube Corner. But then she did recall that this was where Index, who worked directly under the archmage, was staying, so perhaps…

“Oh,” Sweetie Drops said in realization. “Index Code isn’t real, is she?”

Although the surprise showed clearly on her face, the archmage took the question in stride. “It depends on what you consider real. She has her own persona, history, and even legal documentation. She lives as much in the memory of the ponies who she’s interacted with as any other. But yes, she’s one of the many identities Celestia and I adopt when we want to pass unnoticed.”

Sweetie Drops took the hint and promised not to say anything to anypony other than Lyra, who they both agreed would know something was up sooner or later with the Element of Honesty around her neck. It hadn’t, after all, taken even half an hour for Lyra to discover that her marefriend wasn’t exactly who she claimed to be.

And on that note, Sweetie Drops said, “I take it you don’t recognize me.”

“I distinctly recall asking if you did any government work,” Archmage Twilight replied, “but beyond a vague sense of familiarity, no, I don’t. Who are you?”

“Former Special Agent Sweetie Drops, now the head of the Anti-Monster Division, Your Excellency.”

The archmage’s eyes widened. “Of course,” she said with a distinctly self-recriminating tone. “We’ve not had a formal introduction yet, have we?”

“My appointment was relatively recent.”

“Well, that makes this much less embarrassing,” Archmage Twilight replied with a sheepish smile. It vanished soon after. “How curious. Why is it that neither Princess Celestia nor I were ever made aware of Lyra’s presence here?”

Sweetie Drops gulped. This was her boss’s boss, the very top of the chain of command besides the princess, and Princess Celestia only rarely involved herself with the EIS these days. The archmage could ruin her on a whim – if she was worth the bother, knowing what the archmage was like – and it wasn’t even just her flank on the line.

“It’s a long story, ma’am.”

The hard look the archmage returned said she had plenty of time.

Nervous, Sweetie Drops recounted her tale. “I found Lyra performing in the lower districts of Canterlot.” They both decoded that as the polite term for the slums which had cropped up on the mountainside technically beyond city limits. “We hit it off and became fast friends. I invited her to move in with me, and, well, roommates learn a lot about each other without ever saying a word. It was a bunch of little things which clued me in. Lyra easily passed as a unicorn even then and has gotten better since, but once in a while, she’d say or do something which most ponies passed off as just Lyra being Lyra like we do with Pinkie.

“When I put together the pieces and realized she was a seapony, I wanted to have my cake and eat it too. I made a few quiet inquiries with Immigration Services first to check if she was here legally. She wasn’t, so I called in a few favors” – dozens, really – “to get her classified as a monster under my division’s jurisdiction. And to get me assigned as her watcher, obviously.”

“Obviously,” the archmage echoed flatly.

Sweetie Drops cringed but continued on. “Lyra has never hurt anypony–”

The stony expression the archmage wore twitched into a frown before returning to a blank mask.

What did she do? Sweetie Drops screamed in her head. Outwardly, she carried on as if nothing had happened. “–so I’ve never needed to act. When our feelings for each other took a decidedly romantic turn, I did the right thing and went to the then head of my division. I told him I was too emotionally compromised to do my job. He and I went to speak with Director Incog. It was…” No other moment in her life had ever been filled with such a deluge of shame, betrayal, regret, and yet determination despite all that to keep bending the rules to protect her lover. “–a long night. In the end, Incog gave me the go ahead to date Lyra with the understanding that I’d be personally accountable for everything she did.”

That was the end of the story, but the archmage clearly was waiting for something more.

“And we’ve been happy together ever since.”

Archmage Twilight tapped her hoof impatiently. “And?”

“And…” Sweetie Drops cast her mind out for what she could have forgotten, but nothing important came to mind.

“Unbelievable,” the archmage said. “You never performed a background check. This is why we have rules and regulations. You have no idea who Lyra is, do you?”

Unfortunately, all Sweetie Drops could do was shake her head.

Archmage Twilight, despite her furious snort and the stomp of her hoof, didn’t immediately pronounce judgment. Indeed, she took to pacing back and forth muttering little snippets to the effect of, “It wasn’t supposed to be this complicated,” to herself. At the end of one, she spun on Sweetie Drops and asked, “Given your position, am I right to assume you’ve been briefed on the Nightmare Moon situation?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She hesitated a moment and then asked, “The Element of Honesty is part of the plan to defeat her, isn’t it?”

“Indeed. The Elements of Harmony can strike her down. There’s six in total, they run off of the literal power of friendship, and they bind themselves to their bearers for life.”

Sweetie Drops opened her mouth, but she found herself without words.

“Yes, that was my reaction as well. So good news for you and Lyra, I suppose. She’s become an invaluable asset to Equestria overnight, so she gets to stay. By all rights, I should tear the EIS apart over this scandal, but I can’t have one of my mandatory new best friends preoccupied with her beloved crying in her hooves over the mean archmage enforcing the law.”

“I… I’m sorry for putting you in this position.” Sweetie Drops couldn’t think of anything else to say.

The archmage visibly bit back whatever response first leapt to her tongue. Instead, she went with, “If this ever gets out, I expect you and Lyra to be in such mad, disgustingly sappy bliss with each other that we can sell this as the story of two star-crossed lovers.”

Relief surged through every inch of Sweetie Drops’s frame from her head down to her hooves. “We can do that.” It wouldn’t even be a challenge.

“Good. Now I need to go cool off before I blow something up. Brief Lyra on the situation for me. Feel free to tell her anything pertinent about yourself and your work.”

The archmage’s horn lit up, and Sweetie Drops found herself back in her home before she could even raise a word in question. Lyra was still there, idly reading through the scroll the archmage had given her.

“You’re back!” Lyra rose with a smile on her face but then looked around nervously. “Uh, where’s you know who?”

“She left.” Bon Bon moved forward to nuzzle her love. “Why don’t we sit down. We have a lot to talk about.”





After a rapid fire series of teleports, Twilight appeared high above the clouds in the Frozen North. She had done her duty for the day. It was time and past time to take some personal time away from the town seemingly engineered specifically to drive her insane. If she didn’t, she might just join Luna in the evil alter ego club. She could call herself Eternal Twilight. That sounded like a nice compromise. There’d be enough sunlight that way to not freeze the world without compromising the endless night shtick by actually raising the sun.

But then maybe Nightmare Moon wouldn’t go for even that. Perhaps a better villain name would be Midnight Sparkle. It had a stronger night motif, invoked every sinister connotation associated with midnight, and carried a certain level of class. Moreover, she didn’t really like the thematic idea of being the bridge between the royal sisters. She hardly wished to play mediator for them for the rest of time.

When Twilight realized she’d spent the last few minutes of her journey contemplating her hypothetical evil image, she rolled her eyes at where her mind had wandered to. She needed her own evil plan before she could decide on a villain name. Anything else would just be putting the cart before the pony.

Twilight chuckled as she teleported into her laboratory. Two years ago, she’d scoured the tundra for an underground cavern to repurpose. “Security through obscurity!” she’d cried. The one she’d set up shop in had been the best mix of spacious and stable to serve as a starting point. She’d then spent a few weeks sculpting the natural formation into a state-of-the-art research facility where she could conduct her more dangerous magical experiments. Between the ambient enchanted lighting, the smooth floors and walls, the doors, and the lab equipment, a pony would be hard pressed to believe the place had once featured dripping water, pitch black darkness, stalactites and stalagmites, and an utter lack of breathable air.

The test chamber was the largest room in the complex, placed a  full kilometer away from the main lab. It was designed to take any abuse Twilight could subject it to without endangering all of her other work. Along that line of reasoning, only a narrow hallway secured with multiple blast doors connected the two locations as a safety measure in case teleportation should fail for some reason.

It also had a ward scheme better meant for withstanding a siege than scientific rigor. She’d never even come close to overwhelming them after her initial stress test, but someday, she knew, she’d be glad to have installed them. Sure, they were a huge sink on the ambient magic in the area, but it wasn’t like there was anypony else around to complain in this frozen wasteland. Besides, it was the consensus amongst magical scholars that, in addition to the excess magic most creatures radiated into the world’s ambient magic, Equus itself continually produced magic at a scale where civilization would have to go out of its way to deliberately deplete it.

After a quick check to make sure all of the protections were still working as intended, Twilight changed the destination of the emergency teleport system from her tower in Canterlot to Pinkie Pie’s room in Ponyville. It was approximately the same distance, the system had more than enough power stored up, and in the off chance she needed it, she would find help more readily there than in her empty tower.

Twilight lastly polymorphed into Index’s form. Even Pinkie Pie would have a hard time explaining why the archmage suddenly appeared in her room if she had company and if Twilight triggered her emergency teleport. Beyond that, while she doubted she would – or rather could – cause herself any physical harm with the long overdue experiment she wanted to perform, it was always best to have a buffer in place when doing something dangerous.

Now fully prepared, Twilight spoke aloud knowing the room would automatically transcribe every word.

“Before we begin, I would like to state for the record that I am breaking from my prior caution with the following experiment largely because I’ve been having a really stressful week. I desperately need something to go right. If I end up killing myself and some future ambitious pony finds this recording, know that the principle behind the experiment itself is not unsound, only the pony conducting it. If this is Celestia or a member of my family listening, I’ll point out that I’ve written personalized apology letters to each of you. You can find them locked in my desk drawer in the library here.”

With the usual formalities out of the way, Twilight set to her task in earnest.

“The dual nature of ponies is well known and not in dispute. We are at once both flesh and magic. However, conventional wisdom holds that while flesh is mutable, magic is not. This is obviously nonsense. A pony’s magic grows and expands with use and age. Indeed, if our magic were not mutable, then no pony would ever die of magical failure.

“There is a distinction to be made here for the sake of clarity between a pony’s magic and the ordinary magic it generates for spellcasting. There are many informal terms for the former across cultures and disciplines: wellspring, magical core, sea of chi, et cetera. In the absence of a universal scientific term, we will simply use the term magic and let context determine the usage.”

Twilight reached out with her magic to her storage room and teleported a block of solidified magic back to her.

“Just before the Discordian Era at the height of pony civilization, Star Swirl delved into the study of magic modification. By good fortune, what remained of his research notes was discovered during the Key of Unfettered Entrance Incident.” By Twilight herself, of course. “Using them as a jumping off point, we’ve recreated and improved upon the magics involved. The original spells, as we believe them to have been, we suspect would have produced unstable results.

“The goal of this first experiment will be to expand the magical capacity of the test subject, Twilight Sparkle.” She cast a spell to continuously scan and record her biomagical vital statistics for later analysis. “As all signs show she is in good health, we will now begin.”

This was the moment of truth. Twilight lit her horn and latched onto the solidified magic at her hooves. This was no minor spell she was about to attempt, and part of it involved stuffing herself full of more magic than she could currently hold to ensure it stuck. That, by its very nature, required her to utilize an external power source.

With extreme precision, Twilight began constructing her spell. She referenced the spell diagrams she’d created, weaving her magic with pedantic care according to their instructions. There was no room for error here. She was, after all, about to perform surgery on herself, which was exactly as bad of an idea as it sounded like, but she wasn’t about to let anypony else do it for her. The only pony who she trusted and whose magical abilities she trusted enough was Celestia, and that would inevitably open a whole can of worms they didn’t have time for right now.

After a half hour of continuous effort and rigorous double, triple, and even quadruple checking her work, Twilight held her spell ready to cast. This was, far and away, the single most complex piece of sorcery she’d ever attempted. All it took to set it off now was a flux of power so simple a foal could do it.

All right, Twilight. You’ve not yet hit your natural limit. You’re nowhere near your theoretical limit. You’re not challenging the density barrier Celestia has somehow overcome. You’re going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine.

Twilight triggered the spell. It went to work not in a blaze of glory but with the quiet efficiency with which it’d been designed. She didn’t resist as it pulled, and stretched, and filled her in ways few if any ponies ever had been before. The spell and strange sensations ended almost as quickly and without spectacle as they’d begun. If indeed Ponish had the vocabulary to describe the experience in anything but a crude approximation, she’d not had the time necessary to discover the words.

“Well.”

Left with a vaguely off sensation, Twilight swayed in place and just tried to make sense of what she’d gone through. It perhaps should have been a warning sign when she found herself feeling far more than thinking, but instinct took over. The moment she tried to summon up her magic, she knew something was wrong. Her legs went weak and gave out beneath her. She missed a breath. The oncoming rush of adrenaline gave her just enough presence of mind to seek help.

“Fubar!” Twilight cried out.

The test chamber’s emergency teleport activated immediately and whisked Twilight away to Ponyville. As it specified position only, not orientation, it kindly dumped her onto the floor of Pinkie Pie’s room as she’d fallen. Then spotting its stunned resident nearby in bed but not asleep, she gasped out, “Pinkie. Hospital.”
> Chapter Eight - The Dream World
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sudden realization came. It all made sense. Every scrap of research before had addressed the wrong problem!





Twilight was lost in a crowd of huge ponies in Canterlot Square. The clock tower overlooking the plaza said it was a minute after six, but the moon was in the sky. It was still summer, so no matter whether it was morning or evening, the sun should have been out – unless Celestia had clocked out early or something. That happened only very rarely, but it wasn’t unheard of.

Confused, Twilight flapped her wings and flew over the crowd in the hope of determining something about what was going on. Unfortunately, she found nothing of interest, so she turned her flight toward the castle’s front gate. One did not simply fly into the castle without permission, and for some reason, the visual cues which would signify her as friendly had slipped her mind. She’d have to brush up on them later.

Two giant earth ponies guarded the gate. Despite their unusual size, it was business as usual as she approached. They, however, refused to let her pass. Of all the nerve! If they’d had orders from Celestia, perhaps because she wanted Twilight out of the castle during some delicate diplomatic negotiations that didn’t need a snarky archmage, that would be acceptable. But they didn’t!

Thus, heedless to their cries, Twilight glued them to the wall and proceeded forward. When she went to lift the portcullis – why was it down, anyway? – she accidentally put too much strength into her magic. The metal lattice crumpled into a wad where she’d grasped it and jammed in place. At least she had enough room to squeeze through.

She did make a mental note to come back and fix that later once she knew what was going on.

Every single guard Twilight passed as she walked the castle corridors, all of them giants, tried to stop her. They said she’d been kicked out to go find her own country to rule. But as that prospect was about as intriguing as gouging out her own eyes, she pressed on to the throne room while paying no mind to the speed bumps.

Taking a shortcut through the hopefully less guarded gardens, Twilight ran into Spike and Flurry playing some foals’ game. Somehow, although they both had the same body proportions as when she’d last seen them, they’d grown to her own size. Perhaps this was a chance to gain some answers from someone with some actual sense.

“Hey, Spike. Flurry.” Getting only a lukewarm hello in return, once she accepted that there would be a distinct lack of hugs, Twilight asked, “Do you know why the moon is in the sky?”

The two foals looked confused. Spike spoke first. “What is that, some kind of philosophical question? Where else would you put the moon?”

“No, that’s not – I meant why is it out right now?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Flurry asked. “And who are you, anyway?”

Unamused by the feigned lack of recognition, Twilight said, “Twilight Sparkle. Your aunt.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were polymorphed.”

She wasn’t, but just to be sure, Twilight gave herself a once over. Her coat was the same color as usual. When she flicked her head, her mane tossed over her eyes. It felt a lot softer and smoother than usual, she would give them that, and she had sparkles like stars in it now, but the color scheme was normal. The cutie mark on her flank was correct, although her wings did look a little juvenile.

“Oh.” It hit Twilight now that she had wings. “That’s neat. I don’t often experiment with actual pegasus wings. It’s more efficient for me to use other means of flight.” She also, for whatever reason, had reverted to a much younger physical age. That was less amusing, but she shrugged and went with it. “I think I’ll see you two later. I’m going to go give these things a spin.”

Completely forgetting the moon mystery, Twilight left the castle behind with a veritable mob of guards seeing her out the door. As soon as she left, she leapt into the air. Her wings unfurled and lifted her up into the skies above the city.

After some time flying around, immersing herself in the unfamiliar feelings of chilly bursts of wind, thermals, turbulence, and the addicting sensation of airflow beneath her wings, Twilight found herself circling back down to the square where she’d gotten lost earlier. She didn’t have anything better to do right now nor anywhere else to go, so she found a cozy bench to lie down on and let her mind drift.

Some hazy time later, the clock tower called out another hour. Six times it cried before falling silent once more.

Wait, six?

Twilight looked up at the clock tower. It showed that it was a minute after six as the ringing of its bells had suggested. That couldn’t be right. Looking around at the ponies in the crowd, she noticed that none of them had any faces or cutie marks. They were just blotches of color giving off the impression of a pony more than taking the form of one. Thinking back, she couldn’t remember what any of the guards looked like either.

“Oh, I get it. I’m dreaming.” Twilight paused for a few seconds as that sunk in. “I’m dreaming! Ha! I did it! Hello, lucid dream.” Her moment of triumph, however, was cut short. “Now I just need to remember why that was so important.”

Eyes closed, Twilight sat up and rubbed her head with both of her forehooves, moving them in small circles.

“Think, Twilight. Think. I wanted to do something with a lucid dream. It sounded really interesting.”

She rose from the bench and set to pacing. Back and forth she went until she’d worn a groove into the pavement, but it was worth it in the end.

“Eureka! The dream world!” Sitting back down, Twilight put her jaw on a hoof. She knew her goal. Now she just needed to recall how to reach it. So, step one was to ‘calm thyself’. Step two was to…deny the dream? That sounds right. Step three was…no, this is step two and step two was step three. The real step two was to take control of the dream.

Leaping to her hooves, Twilight found a nice cozy spot underneath a tree where she could relax – at least in theory.

“This is so exciting!” Shaking her head, she said, “No, Twilight. There is no excitement. There is only calm. Peace. Serenity.”

Try as she might, no position, no chant, no anything could calm Twilight enough to make more than minor changes to the dream surrounding her. Disappointed, she collapsed onto her back and stared up at the star-filled sky. The real night was beautiful, something she’d never regretted using free time to study, but here in the dream, it was gorgeous. She could see nebulae and brilliant, blazing stars that shone brighter than any in the waking world. Glorious hues of reds and oranges filled the canvas with splashes of light blue and green interweaved.

Perhaps this was what the night sky looked like before Luna’s banishment. Celestia did her best, Twilight was sure, but could she compare to the Alicorn of the Night herself? Surely not.

Realizing that she’d settled down, lost in the stars, Twilight carefully kept her eagerness from building up once more. Instead, she directed her attention to the sky, making little adjustments which only marred perfection. Amusingly, the stars proved playful, moving on their own once she’d begun making changes. The two of them, herself and the stars, descended into a little game on a cosmic scale until the sky became unrecognizable from what it once was. New constellations filled it, and swirling space dust had formed into whirlpools of sparkling light.

With a deep sense of contentment, Twilight closed her eyes.

This is only a dream. An illusion. I want to go to the real realm of dreams. I want to venture inside my own magic to my own personal dreamscape.

Twilight felt a sudden jarring motion. Where once she’d lain peacefully on her back, now her body had repositioned itself to an angled form at the base of a soft, grassy hill. In front of her, a forest of moderately sized trees and ferns with huge leaves ringed the clearing. Trying to stare deeper into the foliage gave Twilight a headache, so she stopped. That had to be the edge of her dream world, as Luna’s book had put it. She could expand it further with effort, but for now, this was what she had to work with.

A feminine, “Oof,” one very far away from the sound of it, met Twilight’s ears, but she paid it no mind for the moment. For all she knew, it could have been her own. More importantly, she remembered everything! Everything that had been so hard to bring to mind in the dream came back to her in crystal clear clarity just as it did in real life.

And then she recalled that she’d left herself in Pinkie Pie’s care. And she’d possibly caused irreversible harm to her magic. And nopony would have any idea how to treat her beyond keeping her physical self hydrated and fed. And she had to hope either Lyra took the initiative to keep her identity hidden or Celestia found out and came to her rescue.

Well. I guess I’m not dead. That was a lower bar than Twilight really wanted to reach for, however. But this dreamscape of hers was supposed to exist inside herself – inside her magic. Nothing immediately leapt out to her as wrong or sickly. Perhaps she would be okay. Eventually. Hopefully before Nightmare Moon returned from banishment.

Decided that there was nothing for it but to wait out the consequences of her actions, Twilight rose to her hooves and investigated her surroundings. It was nice, she supposed, as far as nature went. She preferred her beauty in magic and math, but it could be worse. The initial form the dreamscape took was supposed to represent the pony it belonged to. While it came as no surprise that she was alone, she’d honestly expected something a little…actively hostile.

Glancing up, Twilight found nothing but the cloudless sky painted in a stunning gradient from pink to purple to orange extending below the forest canopy where the sun lingered out of sight below the edge of the world.

A facehoof promptly followed. If my dreamscape is based on a pun, I’m going to have some pointed words for…somepony.

Sighing, Twilight resolved to ascend the hill and get a better view of her entire domain. When she neared its crest, she discovered that she was, in fact, not alone. Luna as she appeared before Nightmare Moon, at least according to her impression of Celestia’s description, strode toward her from approximately the other side of the summit. Luna saw her, too, and raised a wing in greeting.

Something about this felt vaguely familiar, but Twilight paid the feeling no mind. She crossed the remaining distance between her and her actually much taller than expected guest, meeting at the hill’s peak, and spoke first. “All right, what are you doing here? I know I’ve been dreaming of you lately, but this is supposed to be my unspoiled canvas. I better not be subconsciously in love with you or something. We’ve never even met.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, an amused smile playing at her lips. “Not so, although this is the first we’ve had time to speak in peace.” A thoughtful hum emanated from her throat. “But I was so sure you were a unicorn. This does, however, explain much.”

“What are you talking about?”

Luna breathed in sharply. “Has my sister truly hidden this from you? It would be difficult. Exceedingly so. But…not impossible. You poor creature. Do you even know what you are?”

Taking a step back, Twilight instinctively spread her wings in preparation to flee. Not that there was anywhere to – Oh, I still have wings. And I’m still foal-sized. No wonder Luna is so tall. As she saw no need to correct a figment of her imagination, she said, “I believe I asked you a question first. What are you doing here?”

“A fair point. I’ve come to get to know the Archmage of Equestria. We will, after all, be working together for much longer than I expected very soon.”

Twilight blinked and then took a step back to better look up at Luna and take in her full appearance. “Wait. Are you professing to be the real Luna?”

“Who else would I be?” Luna sat to be at a more even height. “Unless there are other dream walking alicorns now?”

“But – but you’re banished!”

“For a grueling nine hundred and ninety-nine years, three seasons, five moons, one week, and a day now.” Underneath the bitterness, a vengeful fire lit Luna’s eyes as she rattled off the date without hesitation. She’d been counting, clearly, whether up or down. “I’ve been slipping my chains during my millennial respite as best as I can. It is not as easy as it once was, but I get by. I apologize for the sour influences I’ve had on your dreams lately. My attempts to bring you into your dreamscape were much less successful than your own. Congratulations, by the way. The first time is the hardest by far.”

Twilight fumbled for words and ultimately only managed a simple, “Thanks. Your book helped.”

Eyes now alight with delight, Luna beamed. “I’m surprised a copy still exists. And you’ve read it! What did you think?”

“It was good?” Twilight really, truly, desperately needed at least a few minutes alone to regroup. She’d not been prepared for this. “I got what I wanted out of it.”

“Excellent! I’m glad to have played some small part in your education.” For what it was worth, it seemed as though Luna genuinely meant that. “Now perhaps you might answer my own questions, Twilight Sparkle.”

“Just Twilight, please,” she replied automatically. Luna was, if not strictly speaking family, then close enough, and Celestia obviously wanted them to get along for reasons which extended beyond her resignation to her sister’s triumph. “How can I verify you’re really Luna?”

The question was met with an approving nod. After a little thought, Luna replied, “When we were young, relatively speaking, I used to refer to my sister as Tia. It originated from me teasing her over her insatiable love of tea, a luxury good in those first centuries with an exorbitant cost. When a pony wished to express discontent with government spending in our early years, it often involved allusions to her bathing in it. Jasmine in particular, her favorite at the time.”

That was easy enough to remember.

“Now then, Twilight, let’s discuss you. I’m dying to know what you are.”

As much as Twilight felt should just tell Luna that she was a unicorn in case this was the real one, the temptation to see what secrets she might lift from an unguarded alicorn in that very same instance proved overwhelming. She trusted Celestia, of course, but she also trusted Celestia to hide things if she – usually rightly so – thought them better left forgotten.

Hmm… We have an Alicorn of the Sun and an Alicorn of the Moon. Matching the celestial theme, Twilight said, “I’m the Alicorn of the Sky,” with confidence she hoped would lend her deception strength.

Luna’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?” She craned her neck to get a better view of Twilight’s cutie mark. “Ah, I see. As I am the Alicorn of the Night, no doubt. Curious. How does that work?”

As she had no idea what they were talking about anymore, Twilight plainly replied, “I don’t know.” Any other answer would only betray her own ignorance. “I’m new at this.”

“Understandable. It took my sister and I decades to fully come to terms with our existence, and you haven’t even three decades yet under your wing since you awoke, correct?”

Awoke? That was an odd verb choice. Nonetheless, Twilight nodded along.

“Perhaps there are a few ponies I can consult between now and when you next fall asleep to help you better understand yourself. I don’t expect much to come of it, but one never knows.”

It hit Twilight then that one of her basic assumptions about the threat Nightmare Moon – or Luna, it seemed – posed had been way off the mark. They weren’t dealing with a goddess who’d been isolated for a thousand years, left with nothing but her own mad ramblings. If this Luna were real, then she’d had all the company a pony needed to keep herself mentally stable. The world could take a collective sigh of cautious relief.

And then the other shoe dropped.

She’s had a thousand years to quietly organize ponies for her coup. And Celestia has been helping her along.

Twilight brought out the Royal Breathing Exercises to calm herself. The need for them had become alarmingly frequent lately, and she really didn’t like what that said about the direction her life was turning.

“What are you doing?”

“Calming myself!”

“Why?” A look of realization passed over Luna’s face. “Oh, I assume you–”





There were good ways to wake up and bad ways to awaken. Twilight personally liked to wake up half-buried in clouds and, although she typically avoided such indulgences since becoming a mare, with a member of the family to snuggle into or around. Waking up in pain and moaning, however, was decidedly not on her list of favorites. Lying in a hospital bed with that horrid yet iconic antiseptic stench in the air certainly did nothing to mitigate the experience.

Owwww, my horrrrnnnn.

Nothing and yet everything hurt. Her magic didn’t have nerve endings, but it somehow found a way to let Twilight know how unhappy it was with her. The general soreness became agony in her horn where her flesh and the arcane melded into one. When she tried to get out of bed, she barely had the strength to fail to lift a leg. She promptly abandoned that as a lost cause and decided to conserve her energy.

Still, she was alive. Twilight considered that a win. She could analyze what had gone wrong later.

So, judging by how sweaty I feel, I must be having fever dreams. Fantastic. I’m going to be sleeping in fits, aren’t I? And just when I had an alicorn ready to confess everything. Twilight weakly clicked her tongue.

Off in a corner of the room, Twilight spotted a large but neat pile of a random assortment of objects. It didn’t take her long to realize that they all belonged to her. Her bag of holding must have failed in her sleep, which made her wonder just how long she’d been out. Interestingly, she did notice that her coat was still butterscotch.

I wonder who refreshed my polymorph? Lyra was the obvious possibility, but Twilight hoped Celestia had already heard of her condition and stopped by. They needed to talk before she fell asleep again, and she didn’t know how long she would stay awake before drifting off again.

Leaning back into the pillow, Twilight tried calling out for a nurse. Her voice was weak, barely a whisper, but either a monitoring spell had been set up or fortune was on her side, for one appeared.

“Good afternoon, Index. I’m Nurse Redheart. How are you feeling?”

“Terrible.” Twilight, in no mood to play pretend, could rattle off a list of symptoms, but it might be faster to list what parts of her body didn’t want her flank on a platter.

“My sympathies. We unfortunately haven’t been able to do anything to help ease your pain. Without knowing what happened, we feared anything we gave you would make your condition worse.”

Twilight opened her mouth to tell Nurse Redheart not to worry because there was nothing to be done but then decided against it. It would only invite follow-up questions she didn’t want to answer. Ultimately, she simply feigned ignorance and said, “I don’t know. I can’t recall.”

“Does it have something to do with any of that, perhaps?” Nurse Redheart directed a rather pointed look at the pile of, to her, junk cluttering up her hospital.

Rather than muster the strength to offer a more thorough explanation, Twilight just shook her head a fraction of an inch.

“Then the best we can offer you is to let you ride out your symptoms here under observation.”

Twilight nodded her understanding. It was better than nothing. “How long?” Luna had, technically, given her the exact date if she cared to do some mental math, but she really didn’t right now. Plus there was that questionable existence thing to consider.

“It’s difficult to say, to be honest. Within the week, we hope, but we won’t know for sure for a couple more days.”

“No,” Twilight said. “How long out?”

“Oh. Pinkie brought you in just before midnight on the fourth. It’s the seventh now.”

A long, resigned sigh escaped Twilight. She’d already slept through two and a half days, and she was going to lose even more time before she got out of here. What a disaster this had become. The worst part was she had nopony to blame for it but herself. Would it really be so hard to just suck it up and socialize for the next five weeks?

Well, yes. There were valid, legitimate reasons Celestia hadn’t wanted her to come here, after all. And that was without considering all of the complications which had arisen.

“You’ve had some visitors.”

Twilight’s ears perked up at the mention of visitors. “Who?”

“Lyra Heartstrings, Bon Bon, Pinkie Pie, of course, and the Cakes, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle admitted separately–”

That deserved a chuckle as much as it did gratitude, both of which Twilight offered.

“–Rarity, Derpy Hooves, Cheerilee, Amethyst Star, and Mayor Mare are all of the locals. You’ve made a lot of friends in the short time you’ve been here.”

Psh, acquaintances at best.

“You also had someone from out of town stop by. A Sun Wisp, if I recall correctly.”

The last name made Twilight smile weakly. It was one of Celestia’s favorite fake identities. While that meant she could just lie around, wait, and try not to nod off, she much preferred proactive solutions to her problems. “Do you have anypony on call who can cast a flame sending spell?” she slowly asked.

Nurse Redheart’s hesitance was answer enough, but she still said, “I’m not sure. What does it do?”

“Never mind. Could you send for Ly – no, Sweetie Belle?” The seapony probably didn’t know any but the most basic of fire magics regardless, but Twilight would rather deal with an adorable little filly hungry for knowledge and quick to learn.

Although obviously hesitant to deliberately bring a Crusader into the hospital, Nurse Redheart acquiesced and promised to send somepony for Sweetie Belle. After providing Twilight with a glass of water should it be desired, she took her leave to return to her other duties.

With that, Twilight relaxed, forced herself not to close her eyes, which would inevitably put her to sleep, and turned inward to contemplate what had transpired between her and the Luna in her dreams. Even if that Luna turned out to be just a figment of the imagination, what she’d said might still have value.

So what did I learn?

Alicorns are ‘awakened’, whatever that means. It’s not particularly new information, but it does lend credence to the popular theory that alicorns aren’t born in the traditional sense. I can understand why Celestia doesn’t want to let that information loose. She gets enough worship as is without a non-biological birth of sorts muddying the waters. Or rebirth, rather. Celestia is too pony-like psychologically not to be one of us, and there’s zero evidence the Classical Era developed artificial life capable of effectively pretending to be a pony.

Beyond that, Luna was fairly insistent that I be the alicorn of something. She accepted the sky as a broader characterization. Thus night is to moon as day is to sun as sky is to what?

Twilight’s head hurt too much for riddles. She’d tuck that away for later analysis. Luna had seemed confused over the answer to the riddle anyway even if she hadn’t deemed it outright impossible.

Now what do I already know?

Alicorns have a magical density and maximum magical output ludicrously in excess of what should be possible. I ran the numbers to determine if Celestia could mostly exist in a pocket dimension, but it just doesn’t scale. To make it big enough for her to inhabit, even if she first ran herself to magical exhaustion, she’d need to expend more magic than she generates.

Alicorns are immortal in the ageless and indestructible sense, although Celestia implied that the latter is theoretically not the case but true in practice. They’re unaffected by disease. They sleep, and they eat. To be honest, I suspect those are Celestia’s vices more than anything she actually needs. And to be fair, I could get by entirely without the latter myself if I wanted.

Only Luna can dreamwalk that I’m aware of, but alicorns in general have access to the three canonical Equestrian branches of magic. It seems likely that their magic is entirely untyped, enabling them use anything and everything from earth pony magic to draconic magic provided that they adopt the appropriate form to do so. But between the three pony tribes, there’s not much gained using any other type, so Celestia either doesn’t or hasn’t bothered to learn. If this isn’t just pure speculation, of course.

A knock came on the door. Nurse Redheart poked her head in and said, “Sweetie Belle has arrived.”

Huh. I forgot how small Ponyville is. “Send her–”

Sweetie Belle rushed past the nurse into the room, completely ignoring any noise ordinances. “You’re awake! I was so worried!”

Although she didn’t have the strength to cover her ears, Twilight did manage to angle them down before Nurse Redheart scolded Sweetie Belle for shouting. That managed to get an apology from her, but it utterly failed to put a stop to her ardor.

“Index, what happened to you?”

Oh, right. My cover. Twilight briefly contemplated how tired and sluggish she felt. Meh. Whatever. After assuring Nurse Redheart that she would be fine alone with the little ball of energy in the room, she said, “Just a little magical accident. I’ll be fine.”

“But you slept for two days straight!”

“I did, and I’ll be fine.”

“But–”

Twilight let out a patient sigh and tuned out Sweetie Belle. Was I ever like this with Celestia? As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she’d probably been worse. When the room was silent again, she once more reassured her guest that she would be fine. Then before any further protests could arise, she asked, “Could you do me a couple favors?”

With an eager bounce, Sweetie Belle readily agreed, her face bright and obviously happy to be of help.

“Thank you. When you leave, go through my pile of stuff.” Twilight made a little nod in its approximate direction. “Take the loose papers and notebooks. Hide them where they won’t be lost or found.” If anypony had wanted to riffle through them without permission, they’d already had two days to do so, but she could at least not make it an open invitation. Some of the documents in the heap were classified. “They’re enchanted, so don’t worry about damage. Try not to touch anything else. Some of it is dangerous.”

Sweetie Belle nodded her understanding.

“My other request will require more work. I’m not feeling up to spell casting. Do you know somepony who could help me with that?”

The squee that came in reply was answer enough.

“Well, I guess you’re willing to learn. This will be difficult, but you should be able to cast it – if not understand it – within the hour. Do you have the time?”

Once Sweetie Belle said that she did, they began the lesson. The lecture on the flame sending spell went smoothly. The core spellforms were simple enough, being a mere interconnected combination of lesser magics. Magic was easy when broken down into its basic components despite what everypony else said.

However, when the first hour rolled by, it truly sank in just how difficult it was to teach purely orally without magic. Twilight lacked the ability to demonstrate. She lacked the capacity to guide, correct, and nudge Sweetie Belle in the right direction as she had with the last spell she’d taught. The solution to this, as it became apparent, was to detour into the illusion school for a little cantrip that caused magic to emit visible light. Teaching that spell went far faster, and once Sweetie Belle had it mastered, Twilight proved far more capable of helping her learn the flame sending spell.

All told, it took Sweetie Belle a little over three hours to send a blank piece of paper across the room.

“Finally!” Twilight exclaimed. She regretted it immediately after as she descended into a coughing fit and then again when she caught the look on Sweetie Belle’s face.

“I apologize for taking–”

“Don’t,” Twilight managed between wheezes. “Not you. Me. Did well with useless teacher.” She wasn’t sure how genuine the cautious smile on Sweetie Belle’s face was, but she would take it. “Can you take dictation?”

“Uh-huh! One sec.” Sweetie Belle rushed out the door and came back a minute later with quill, ink, and parchment. “Ready!”

Not particularly wanting to deal with a hyperactive fanfilly and knowing that few ponies knew the, in hindsight, somewhat pretentious name she’d given Spike when she’d been far too young to be naming a potted plant, let alone a person, Twilight dictated, “Spykoran, please tell Sun Wisp I’m awake and need to speak with her.”

After Sweetie Belle finished writing, Twilight reluctantly parted with the destination key for Spike. She knew she was going to regret opening up a line of communication between Canterlot’s troublemakers and the Cutie Mark Crusaders, but with Luna potentially dreamwalking, who else could she fully trust but someone in the family?

Of course, Twilight could have Sweetie Belle send the letter to Celestia directly, but really? It was bad enough she already had the much prized archmage’s address from testing the flame sending spell. Even Twilight’s parents routed mail to her through Spike. Sweetie Belle didn’t need a direct line to the Princess of Equestria as well.

While Twilight debated the horrible implications of the information she’d freely given to Sweetie Belle in her feverish state, said filly burnt the letter to ashes and sent it off without any awareness of what she now had within her hooves. As the spell finished drawing its power from her, she lurched forward but caught herself before she fell.

“You okay?” Twilight asked.

Sweetie Belle nodded. “That was exhausting,” she said with heavy breath. “How far did I send it?”

“It should just be going to Canterlot.” After a few seconds, Twilight added, “Which is fairly far for somepony your age.” Or any age, really, but only because most unicorns never built up their magical capacity beyond what would comfortably get them through daily life. “Anyway, thank you for playing mailmare for me. I’ll return the favor when reality is my plaything again.”

Laughing, Sweetie Belle said, “No need. You already taught me so much and saved my life. I am in your debt far more than you are in mine.”

“As you wish.” Twilight was far from in the mood to argue trivialities. “Come back anytime, but for now, please gather my papers and skedaddle. I’ll have company soon, and we’ll need privacy.”

Puzzled, Sweetie Belle asked, “How?”

Celestia appeared in the room in a convergence of light. She’d taken on Sun Wisp’s appearance, a unicorn mare with a bronze coat, a yellow mane and tail, and a single solar wisp for a cutie mark. If somepony who knew anything about teleportation were in the room, her manner of arrival would have exposed her real identity. But as there was only a young, untested sorceress present, her disguise remained intact.

“Like that, I suppose,” Twilight said.

Celestia, although everything about her radiated concern and worry to those who knew her best, started with an easy question. “What’s like what?”

“My guest asked after the manner of your arrival.”

Following Twilight’s nod, Celestia’s gaze fell upon the room’s other occupant. “Oh. Hello, little one.”

After the initial shock wore off, Sweetie Belle stared wide eyed up at Celestia. “That. Was. So. Cool! Index, can you do that? Can you teach me?”

“Usually, yes,” Twilight replied. “But keep that to yourself. For now, why don’t you head out. You can come back later to finish what I asked of you.” Sure, she could just have Celestia hold on to her things for her, but Sweetie Belle looked so happy to help. She recalled those days fondly. They were so long ago, back before the tedium and familiarity had worn away her enthusiasm to assist her own mentor.

Celestia watched Sweetie Belle leave with a mischievous eye. Once they were alone, she teasingly said, “That is a cute little protégé you have there.” When Twilight didn’t immediately deny it, her smirk passed through surprise and eased into a more genuine expression of affection. “Is she?”

After a pregnant silence, Twilight replied, “Maybe.”

“I’m happy for you,” Celestia said, and for a moment, Twilight actually thought that would be the end of it. “But you do realize I must tease you incessantly for this once you recover.”

Twilight groaned.

“How many times have I had to listen to you complain when I ask you to give a guest lecture at my school?”

Grumbling, Twilight replied, “Not enough to make you stop asking.”

Celestia actually had the gall to say, “Of course not. It’s good for you.” Once she stopped laughing, her tone turned serious. “What happened to you?”

“Wards first.”

Although she rolled her eyes, Celestia put up all of the usual privacy spells necessary to keep eavesdroppers, both magical and mundane, from overhearing their conversation. “Too weak to do this yourself?” she asked. The reprimand in her tone did not go unnoticed, although Twilight did appreciate that Celestia automatically assumed the only thing that could actually put her in the hospital anymore was herself.

“Yes, in fact,” Twilight replied at her accustomed slow pace. “It’s very irritating. It took me hours longer than it should have like this to teach Sweetie Belle the flame sending spell. If I’d known that…” Well, Twilight probably still would have gone for the magic option, but the point was she could have just sent a pegasus courier or even had Pinkie Pie take the next train to Canterlot. “Never mind.”

“Twilight,” Celestia began solemnly as she found a seat beside the bed, “when I first got here, I performed an examination of my own. I had no idea what was wrong with you. My best guess is you somehow managed to contaminate your magic–”

If she could, Twilight would have facehoofed. Had she really made the magically equivalent mistake of not washing her hooves and instruments before surgery? Probably.

“–something I have never in my entire life seen before. How did this happen?”

“How am I doing now?”

Celestia leveled a glare at Twilight which said she would have answers. Nonetheless, she performed the necessary medical spells. “Your readings are far more normal. Not fully, mind, but considerably better than the last time I checked.”

Twilight breathed out a sigh of relief. Experiment successful, I guess. I’ll need to determine exactly what went wrong and if I achieved the intended effect, but I’ll count being alive and not crippled as a win right now.

“So? When your brother eventually escapes my niece’s hooves and starts pounding on my door again for answers, what am I going to tell him?”

“Oh.” Twilight, contrite, sunk into herself. “I worried a lot of ponies, didn’t I? I’m sorry.” Although the repentance expressed was genuine, it utterly failed in its secondary goal of deflecting Celestia’s inquiries.

“Nice try, but who do you think taught that to you? Now tell me what foolish, reckless experiment you got caught up in this time.”

Twilight clicked her tongue. She’d need to bring out the siege spells. “It was just a minor magical mishap, Tia.”

Like magic, Celestia froze in place with a gasp no louder than a mouse, and Twilight swore under her breath. That confirmed it. The Luna in her dreamscape had been the real one.

“Please do not call me that.”

By Celestia’s tone, Twilight knew such was not a request. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew it was insensitive to make light of this, but she still felt the addling touch of her fever and wanted for a distraction. “I don’t know. It’s an awfully cute nickname. Did you really used to bathe in Jasmine tea?”

“What? Of course no–” As the memories came back to her, a light pink dusted Celestia’s cheeks. “Where did you even hear such a story? I thought I eradicated all traces of it.”

If Twilight hadn’t been sure before, she was now. “Your sister mentioned it to me.”

“What!” Celestia shrieked far and away too loudly for a hospital. It was only by the grace of the privacy wards she’d erected that a nurse hadn’t come to escort her out.

“Volume,” Twilight whispered, ears pinned to her head.

Still seething, Celestia apologized and asked, “Did my sister do this to you?”

“No, no,” Twilight said. “She’s still banished, just dreamwalking. Judging by her mental state, she has been the whole time.” If she had the energy for it, she’d probably descend back into a panic as she had before she’d awoken.

A few moments passed in stunned silence.

“Please say that again.”

“Hmm? Oh, Luna is mentally stable.” Or she at least could act the part. “And identifying as Luna.”

The dreadful sound of mucus in a runny nose made Twilight shudder. Nonetheless, she made what token effort she could to pull Celestia into a comforting hug. Then with a sobbing alicorn in disguise more on top of her than in her arms, she elaborated on what she’d already said.

“I only met her briefly before my dream collapsed. She may be different in person. It may have been an act. I don’t know for sure what her intentions are for you, but…”

“That’s enough,” Celestia said. “It’s enough. Thank you.”

They lay together like that for an indeterminate length of time until Celestia’s tears finally petered out to little sniffles. Despite her breakdown, or perhaps because of it, she looked more vibrant than Twilight had ever seen her. How long had she been holding that in? A century? Two? A millennium?

“Am I secretly an alicorn?”

Celestia laughed freely with clearly no idea how to respond or even where that question had come from. For Twilight, that was an objective accomplished. When she settled down, she replied, “You would know if you were. Trust me. What makes you ask?”

“I was in my dream before I managed to break into my personal dreamscape. It stuck for whatever reason. Then when I bumped into Luna, she made an assumption or two, and I rolled with it.”

That managed to get Celestia laughing again. “If only I could see the look on her face when she realizes. Oh, when we were young, Lulu and I would play so many pranks on each other. I miss that so much.”

Twilight looked at Celestia in surprise. “You? A prankster?” She knew Celestia had her moments of mischief, but she still had a hard time picturing it.

“What would eternity be without a few laughs?” Celestia asked. It was, to be fair, a good point. Then she hummed thoughtfully. “I suspect I know why you were an alicorn in your dreamscape, but you should ask Luna. She’s the expert. She will return, right?”

As one short and only moderately successful attempt at communication would no doubt not satisfy Luna, Twilight said, “Probably. Any message you’d like me to pass along?”

Celestia ruminated on the matter for the longest time. Ultimately, however, she replied, “No. When we speak, I’d like it to be in person.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve waited nearly a thousand years,” Celestia said. “I can wait a little longer.”

Twilight nodded her acceptance. She could understand the sentiment, although perhaps she could convince Luna to go talk with Celestia. If they could resolve their differences in a dream, perhaps with gratuitous levels of violence involved, then maybe this family drama could have a happy ending. It was worth a shot. Not that she wouldn’t blast Luna with the Elements of Harmony anyway if she could. Better safe than sorry and all that.

“Oh. I found a bearer for Honesty.”

“Truly? How are things between you two?”

“Abysmal.”

Celestia managed a weak chuckle before finally removing herself from the bed. “I did attempt to dissuade you.”

“That’s not fair. It’s that seapony I wrote you about.” Twilight sighed. “I gave her a visa, but we’re going to need to naturalize her now that she has Honesty. Take care of that for me?” She played up her symptoms and forced a few coughs.

With a roll of her eyes, Celestia promised to do so.

“Great.” Then as fast as she could, too fast for Celestia to interject, Twilight said, “Her name is Lyra Heartstrings. She lives with Sweetie Drops, the head of the Anti-Monster Division of the EIS. She’s one of Aquestria’s previous masters of waters. Faked her own death and everything. Huuuuge scandal if it gets out.”

“What? Twilight, I don’t–”

“You promised!”

Celestia pushed a long, heavy breath out her nose. “You tricked me.”

Twilight just stuck her tongue out.

“Fine. I’ll make the necessary arrangements.” Under her breath, Celestia muttered, “What a mess.”

Not my problem anymore, Twilight thought with perhaps too wide a smile. “Have you been refreshing my polymorph for me?”

Nodding, Celestia added, “I’ll continue to do so until you recover.”

After giving her thanks, Twilight asked if anything interesting had happened during her coma. Other than an upcoming movie night with Chrysalis of all people, Celestia only had regular status updates on their plans to relay. She did, however, recall one other piece of news after she finished her report.

“Cadance came to me with a wonderful idea several moons ago that somewhat casts shame on me for my biases: a school for gifted pegasi.”

Twilight blinked. “Huh. Now that you mention it…”

“I know exactly what you mean. I said as much to her. She has most of the initial plans worked out now. I just came from a meeting with her, actually.”

“What about one for earth ponies?” Equestria didn’t have the population to support a dedicated school for dragons, deer, and the like, but after having Pinkie Pie shoved in her face, Twilight saw the undeniable need for one where earth ponies were concerned.

Celestia offered a helpless shrug. “The idea arose, but we have a lack of direction. Moreover, your discovery of Pinkie Pie puts any curricula we might consider in doubt. At the same time, however, earth ponies clearly have much overlooked potential. We must correct that.”

“Agreed. Thank you for coming so quickly, but I should let you get back to Cadance.”

“Of course.” Celestia rose to her hooves and dissolved into light.

Inwardly, Twilight did a little dance at pulling a successful distraction and being let off the hook.

And then Celestia returned with a smirk. “But before I leave, perhaps you could finally tell me how you ended up in the hospital, hmm?”

Twilight groaned. “Fine. I developed a new medical procedure and used myself as a guinea pig.”

This, rather predictably, resulted in a long scolding.





In a quiet corner of Canterlot Castle, Spike sat idly chatting with Flurry. Cadance had brought them here on a detour into town for a ‘brief’ chat with Princess Celestia about a new school for gifted pegasi like the one they already had for unicorns. A while ago, Spike had coughed up a weird scroll. He’d not recognized the writer’s penmareship, but there were only a handful of ponies who knew his full name, so he’d done as asked and relayed the message to Princess Celestia, who had immediately excused herself with the promise to return shortly.

It might have been a good idea to ask what an immortal alicorn considered ‘shortly’. Since her departure, the three of them – Spike, Flurry, and Cadance – hadn’t heard a word from her and had resigned themselves to a long wait. Cadance went to work further refining her plans, taking the occasional break to enjoy her tea. Meanwhile, Spike and Flurry had reluctantly entertained each other instead of heading down to the kitchens for a snack which would ‘spoil their dinner’.

But finally – finally! – Princess Celestia reappeared in an implosion of light. She came without warning as she always did when moving about in haste, but everypony in the family had long grown used to it. “My apologies for the absence. If I had known Twilight would hold me up for so long, I would have asked you to come back later.”

Spike put a claw to his lips and quietly moved Flurry further into the background. Whenever somepony brought up his mother over the last couple days, the adults always got a worried look but refused to say anything but platitudes. But if Princess Celestia had forgotten they were here, she might let something slip.

Cadance dismissed the apology with a wave of her hoof and instead leapt straight to the heart of the matter. “How is Twi doing?”

“Better than I expected, to be honest, but sometimes I question where I went wrong with her. The ideas she gets into her head when nopony is around to ground her.” Princess Celestia shook her head as she poured herself a new cup of tea.

“It’s nothing you did, Auntie. Trust me. She was like that long before you got to her.” After taking a sip from her own cup, Cadance asked, “So what did she do this time?”

“While unforthcoming about the details, she admitted to performing surgery on herself.”

Cadance nearly choked in time with Spike and Flurry’s dual gasps. “That mare. Nothing but an overgrown foal, I swear. Has she at least made any friends while playing mad scientist?”

“I believe so. Just one or two for now – low hanging fruit, as she would say – but perhaps they will help open her up to the magic of friendship.” Princess Celestia took her first sip of tea and let out a pleased hum. “You can ask her directly for the details. In the meanwhile, we were discussing your intended faculty for the initial experimental phase. The Wonderbolts take in many of Equestria’s most talented pegasi. Have you looked through their ranks, past and present, for potential professors?”

“Yes, actually. There’s a few decent picks amongst them, but I’m hesitant to pull them into a school for foals. I don’t want to start up a military academy.”

Princess Celestia conceded the point. “Do you have anypony else in mind?”

“I have a roster I’d like your assistance with narrowing down. I’m worried about overrepresenting the weather industry. It’s the number one employer of pegasi by a wide margin, which makes it difficult to avoid, but this is specifically supposed to be about expanding opportunities. I have a similar concern for the postal service. In all honesty, I think our culture is too focused on public service. Where are our doctors ready to advance our knowledge of medicine? Where are our great scholars whose name everypony knows? When a pony sees a pegasus, they think weather, military, mail. Usually in that order. I know I’m not one to talk. A princess born to unicorns, raised in Canterlot in the lap of luxury and free to indulge in writing as a hobby? What do I know about being a pegasus?”

Some light laughter met the rhetorical question. “I have heard exactly that from all three tribes myself many times over. I do agree, however. And education is usually the first place to effect change.”

“Yeah. Sorry for getting on my soap box there. Anyway, there’s one mare that I really want to get ahold of before the Wonderbolts finally get her.”

Princess Celestia raised an eyebrow.

“They keep sending her invitations to join. She’s a huge fan and ostensibly wants to be one. By all rights, she should leap at every opportunity, but she keeps turning them down. I peeked at her file while visiting the Wonderbolts’ compound, which is what put me onto her trail in the first place. The only reason she ever gives is just that she ‘can’t right now’.”

“Hmm… She has talent, then, I take it?”

Cadance scoffed. “She’s the Twilight Sparkle of pegasi.”

“Very high praise. Who is she?”

After a bit of shuffling around of papers, Cadance presented something to Princess Celestia. “Rainbow Dash. She’s the one who performed the sonic rainboom all those years ago.”

“Oh yes, I recall that. Twilight told me it happened almost immediately after she hatched Spike.”

Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. It was a bit of a minor detail in what was the story of Spike’s own birth, Twilight’s cutie mark, and the reason Princess Celestia had taken Twilight on as a student. It certainly didn’t help that he’d been too young to remember witnessing it himself.

“It’s not really about that at all,” Cadance said. “She excels in every branch of pegasus magic and has practically invented new ones. She’s a genius.” Rather morosely, she added, “And a jock.”

“Ah, there’s the rub. Not a fan of school?”

Cadance snorted, which was all the answer anyone needed.

“Teaching would be a hard sell, then, especially against the alternative. Do you perchance know why she keeps turning the Wonderbolts down?”

“No, but she lives in Ponyville. I’m hoping Twi can tell me.”

“Unlikely, but…” Princess Celestia sipped from her tea with a thoughtful expression. “Twilight told me there are changelings in Ponyville. They may know more.”

Before Cadance could reply, Spike felt a surge of magic grow within him. A few moments later, he coughed up another scroll with a flash of bright green flame.

“More mail? Is it from Twi again?”

Spike picked up the letter. Unlike the last, which had been barely more than a note, this one had an elegant bow sealing it shut. Upon opening it, he recognized the same tidy script as before, but it was addressed specifically to him from the sender. He quickly scanned to the bottom and checked the name. Who is Sweetie Belle? It wasn’t one of the names Twilight used.

“No, Aunt Cadance. It’s for me, though, so I’m–”

“We’re,” Flurry corrected.

“So we’re going to go read it somewhere else.”

After promising not to wander off too far, Spike and Flurry left the meeting room. Upon finding the chamber across the corridor vacant, they commandeered it for their own purposes and huddled together conspiratorially.

“So who’s it from?”

“Somepony name Sweetie Belle,” Spike replied. “Ever heard of her?”

“Nope. Just start reading.”

With a nod, Spike returned to the top of the page and read aloud, “‘Dear Spykoran, I considered whether or not I should send this letter, but I just could not resist. Anypony who knows Index must be just as amazing as she is.’”

“Index? That’s one of your mom’s disguises, isn’t it?”

Spike hummed an affirmative. “‘My name is Sweetie Belle. I live in Ponyville just south of Canterlot at the border of the Everfree Forest. For lack of a better term, you could call me a student of magic. A few days ago, Index saved my life and has taught me so much ever since, including the flame sending spell (which is exhausting).’”

“Is it really?” Flurry asked. “You send mail all the time.”

“The species makes all the difference. Dragons use it all the time to send things to their hoard.” Dragonfire could burn most anything, after all, which made the flame sending spell incredibly useful. “Mom described the unicorn version as…‘like trying to send a message in a bottle to somewhere upstream’. I think I got that right.”

“Huh. Neat.” Flurry poked the letter with a hoof. “Go on.”

“Right. Uh… Aha! ‘I really want to get to know her better, but it seems like she has a lot of stuff to do besides just overseeing the Summer Sun Celebration. Whenever somepony sees her in town, she’s always busy. Worse, she ended up in the hospital!’”

Spike could have guessed that from what he’d overheard earlier, but it was nice to finally have somepony tell him outright. At least he knew Twilight was already on the path to recovery.

“‘So I guess the real reason I sent this letter is to see if there is any way I can help her, but my original intention was that it might be fun to be pen pals. Sweetie Belle. P.S. I can only cast the flame sending spell at most once every hour or so. I also have no idea how to send letters back to me.’”

“She brings up a good point. Can you send a response?”

“Well, I could always have Mom pass a letter along,” Spike said, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully, “but so long as nopony else sends me anything before then, I think I can manage it.

“Excellent!” Flurry hopped into the air and fluttered about the room. “This sounds like tons of fun. Found a quill! What should we say?”

“Hey! This is addressed to the amazing Spykoran.”

“Oh, come on! Parchment! Ooh, and ink!” Flurry returned with all three in tow, spreading them out onto the floor. “She doesn’t even know who you are. It might as well be addressed to me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Spike said with a wave of his hand. “I was just kidding.” Picking up the quill, he set to writing. Dear Sweetie Belle, you don’t have to worry about Mom–

“Don’t write that!” Flurry hissed.

“What? Why not?”

“Because she knows Aunt Twilight as Index. You know, in disguise. Don’t blow her cover.”

Spike crumpled his first attempt and tossed it into the trash from across the room. “Ha! Who’s awesome!” Ignoring Flurry’s insinuation that it was a lucky shot, he grabbed a fresh sheet of parchment and tried again. Dear Sweetie Belle, you don’t have to worry about Index; she does weird stuff all the time.

“Ooh, nice use of semicolon.”

“I know. It’ll make us look super sophisticated.”

“Uh, hello? I’m a princess, and you’re the archmage’s colt.” Flurry pushed their Canterlot accent to absurd levels and said, “We’re sophisticated by definition, my good sir.”

With an eye roll, Spike continued writing. If you want her attention, just ask for it. If she didn’t like you, you would know it. If she can’t make time, you’ll know that too. But being pen pals sounds like fun. There he stopped writing and twiddled the quill between his claws. “How old do you think she is?”

Flurry shrugged her wings. “Some parts kind of read like something my grandparents or Aunt Celestia would write, but some sound more like somepony our age. We could go bother Incog for a quick background check. Or Esp. I think I saw him wandering around somewhere nearby.”

“Or,” Spike began with the much more sensible option, “we could just ask her.”

“Ask her?” Flurry said as if the very concept were foreign to her. “Where would the fun in that be? Let’s just wrap this up so we don’t miss the chance to send it. Then we can go investigating.”

“She’ll have to send another one before I can send another back.”

“So be it! Your princess has spoken.”

Spike rolled his eyes again and added a little warning to their letter. Until you figure out what your mailing address is, we have to latch onto the residual magic from letters you send us. We can only do that once per and only if nopony else sends us something, so we’ll end this here.

Spike lifted quill from parchment and turned to Flurry. “Seem fine?”

“Yep. Go ahead and sign it for me too.”

Spike and Flurry.





The folds of the dress stretched and contorted as a dozen needles and threads passed through in tiny, rapid movements. The fashionista extraordinaire controlling them paid them barely any mind. But even one of such talents as her soon found herself with nothing but a ball of fabric held together by the occasional miss-stitch.

“Oh, ponyfeathers,” Rarity muttered. “That is the fourth time since this morning.”

With a resigned sigh, Rarity threw her latest failure onto the pile with the three others. Even if she fixed it, who would want it? Even if somepony wanted it, could she bare to sell such a hideous, inferior product? What point was there to these lesser dresses when she could sew such splendor as to bring even the most jaded pony to tears?

Rarity summoned her fainting couch from upstairs and, once it arrived, collapsed onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. Inspiration burned within her like a wildfire, untamed and eager to be fed. It was a curse to be plagued so by ideas she could not as yet bring into reality.

Cursed with brilliance! Visions beyond achievement! Of all the worst things that could happen, this is the. Worst. Possible. Thing!

Using her connections in the fashion industry, Rarity had made a few quiet inquiries into thaumic thread only to discover that the archmage had a gift for understatement. Extremely expensive didn’t even begin to cover its price. If she at least knew how to make it herself, she could begin experimenting, but nopony who could would teach her. That left the archmage as her only supplier – the currently bedridden archmage. She felt awful for the poor dear, of course, but Rarity did wish she would hurry up and get back onto her hooves.

From upstairs came a crackling sound, almost as if something were burning.

“Sweetie Belle! Are you playing with fire again?”

“No, Rarity! Just a spell that Index taught me!”

Oh my, Sweetie Belle won’t be able to contain herself when she finally knows who Index really is.

Figuring that Archmage Twilight wouldn’t teach Sweetie Belle anything too dangerous, Rarity pushed the sound she’d heard from her mind. It had obviously done her no good to contemplate her work, however, so she instead imagined all the ways her and her sister’s lives would be changing if all went well.

With the weight of the archmage herself on Rarity’s side, she could finally convince her parents that Sweetie Belle needed a proper education. They would move to Canterlot, likely taking up residence in her boutique there. With the bulk of her clientele no longer needing to travel to her, her business would boom. Sweetie Belle, already having the archmage’s attention, would have the world as her oyster.

Oh, and when the world saw the robes she made for the archmage, ponies would throw the funding required at her to make greater and greater works of art. It was a dream which had all but come true already. It was amazing how much could change over the course of an afternoon.

From the stairwell came the soft sound of hoofsteps descending. Soon, Sweetie Belle appeared at their base and asked, “Hey, Rarity? Does the name Flurry mean anything to you? It sounds familiar. Like a pony you may have mentioned hearing something about?”

“Sweetie Belle, darling, Princess Flurry Heart is Princess Mi Amore Cadenza’s only child. Her father is Archmage Twilight’s brother, Prince Consort Shining Armor.”

“O-oh. I see. And, uh, who is Spike?”

“Spykoran, no? That would be Archmage Twilight Sparkle’s adopted dragon. He and Princess Flurry Heart are as thick as thieves from what I hear.” Unable to resist a little teasing, Rarity added, “Of course, the archmage does tend to keep her family away from the press, which would explain why a fanfilly like you needed a little reminder.”

“Yes, well, thank you for your assistance,” Sweetie Belle said, vacillating between indignity and gratitude.

As Sweetie Belle turned to head back up to her room, Rarity said, “What brought this up? Have you stumbled upon something I should know about?”

“N-no.” It was almost painful how obvious Sweetie Belle was about it. “I just read something in the newspaper that mentioned them.”

Rarity tapped her hoof to her jaw and summoned her reading glasses to her. “Curious. I do not recall any such article. Perhaps you could show me? I would hate to be behind on the latest news.”

“Err… No need. Really, it was just a small piece.”

“Oh, I do not believe that at all. Nothing is ever small to you where it concerns the archmage.”

Sweetie Belle took a step back and tripped over a stair. Under Rarity’s knowing look, she made a full retreat up the stairs in a hasty scramble. Of course, there was nowhere to run, for there was but one staircase in the boutique.

Elegantly rising to her hooves, Rarity walked upstairs in pursuit of her little sister. At the top, she found the door to Sweetie Belle’s room was closed and locked, not that it could stop her. Fumbling blindly with her magic, she eventually found the locking mechanism on the other side of the door. With a light click, it came undone.

Inside, Sweetie Belle’s room was as it normally was. While a few stacks of books on magic had escaped their shelves and lay scattered about the floor, it was otherwise well organized. Noticeably absent, however, was the filly Rarity had expected to find. But then a light breeze fluttered the curtains. The window was thrown wide open, and when she approached to see outside, she spotted her sister galloping away through town with a piece of parchment suspended in the air alongside her.

“Sweetie Belle! I know where you live! You cannot hide a secret from me for long!”





Twilight awoke in the midst of her breathing exercises standing exactly where she had been when her dream had fallen apart. She’d not expected her dreamscape to preserve state to that extent, but in hindsight, perhaps she should have. Everything she did in here was permanent and enduring, according to Luna’s book, forever written into her magic until deliberately erased. She had such ideas for this world. Persistent memory that nopony except possibly Luna knew how to touch! She could archive everything she knew, secure in the knowledge that only one other pony could ever even potentially tamper with it. Granted, she would prefer both zero and not this particular one, but she would take what she could get.

While Luna was not nearby as she had been upon their last meeting, Twilight didn’t recall breaking into her dream world as she had before. That meant, unless she’d drastically misunderstood something, she could expect to find Luna wandering about somewhere.

But speaking of alicorns, Twilight stretched a few muscles she only rarely had in reality. “Yep, still an alicorn.” Glancing down at her body proportions, she added, “And still tiny.” She noticed that her mane still had the ethereal, sparkling appearance as well.

“You lied.”

Twilight shrieked in surprise. Her wings instinctively carried her into the air at full force, but once her heart caught up with her, she fluttered back to the ground. Slowly, she turned in place and found a waiting Luna glaring down at her using every last inch of the height difference between them to full effect.

Thinking fast, Twilight said, “I prefer to think of it as roleplaying. Am I not, in fact, the Alicorn of the Sky at the moment?”

Luna was not amused.

“Celestia thought it was funny.”

“I’m sure she did,” Luna drawled, “Another one over on ole Luna. She doesn’t mind being the subject of every joke. Mirth is her Element.”

Good going, Twilight. We struck a nerve with the vengeful alicorn. What now? When no better idea occurred, she fell back on what she knew. “Laughter is actually the translation that most closely follows the evolution of Ponish.”

“Oh, so you know about the Elements of Harmony. She even told you about me. I had heard you were her new favored tool, but this is surprising. My sister did always like to hold her cards very close to the chest.”

Twilight gulped as Luna stalked a circle around her with a keen, observing eye. “We’re not lovers.”

“Indeed? Hmm, perhaps if my sister had a taste for mares, then.”

“No. Not likely.” Twilight actually found the image that put into her head somewhat revolting beyond her general disinclination toward sex. She quickly pushed it away and asked, “Why are you here?” It seemed foolish to expose Luna’s continued ability to dreamwalk to her so close to the solstice, which made her wonder what she was being distracted from.

Luna made herself comfortable lying on the grass. Once she’d settled in, she replied, “As I told you upon our last meeting, I’m here to get to know my future archmage.” To Twilight’s disbelieving look, she added, “Do recall to whom Honesty belonged.”

With a stomp of her hoof and a snort, Twilight glared at Luna. “That’s awfully presumptive.”

Luna shrugged her wings with far too casual an air. “I think you have a deep enough sense of responsibility to stay on without my sister to tie you down.”

“You know very well that’s not what I meant.”

“Of course I do!” Luna snapped, rising to her hooves with a flowing grace that made Twilight take an uneasy step back. “Do not think I have forgotten Loyalty either, Twilight Sparkle.” She took a step forward only to be met with another step back. “I have rejoiced upon its peaks and suffered in its depths. I know firsthoof the lengths a pony will traverse for those they hold dear.” Wings spread wide to their fullest extent, a nimbus of raw power surrounding her, she came one step closer to glare down upon the miniature alicorn beneath her. “Just as I know that the Elements are broken. I felt my connection to them abruptly sever as my sister misused them. What will she do without their power when I stand before her once more but beg for the kindness and generosity she never showed me?”

In all her years with Celestia, Twilight had forgotten how utterly terrifying alicorns could be.

But then Luna breathed in, deep and slow, and as she exhaled, the vengeful physical goddess seemingly left with her breath. “My apologies, Twilight. After all these years… What expression is it you use these days? Cabin fever?”

Hesitantly and with caution, Twilight said, “Stir-crazy?”

“Yes! That’s it exactly.”

“Understandable,” Twilight allowed. Even she felt the need to leave her tower every so often. “At the risk of…” She faked a cough in place of what had been going to say. “Have you considered visiting a therapist?” As tempted as she was to also suggest attending counseling with Celestia as well, she kept that one to herself for now.

Contrary to expectations, Luna serenely replied, “I have, in fact, gone through many sessions.”

Stunned, Twilight only managed a weak, “What?”

“Oh yes. With a kirin, actually. They’ve developed anger management to an art. It took me years of searching for someone appropriate who was willing to call me out when I was in the wrong, of course, but it’s not like I didn’t have the time.”

Those last words were bitter, but they all sounded sincere to Twilight’s ear. “What about eternal night?”

Luna groaned and averted her eyes. If it wouldn’t have been contrary to everything Twilight expected, she would have sworn Luna blushed. “Can we pretend I never said anything about that?” When Twilight only stared blankly at her, she continued, “Look, I was furious at the time. And monologuing. I couldn’t unsay it once it slipped out, and everypony just went with it. It was the same with Nightmare Moon.”

Twilight blinked.

“What? Were you expecting something more like…” A sinister chuckle filled the air. “Enjoy your remaining days, little pony, for they will be your last. Upon my return, the night will last forever!” Luna spread her wings and reared dramatically to the crash of thunder.

Weakly, Twilight nodded.

“Please,” chided Luna as she fell back onto all four hooves. “Even the most stubborn pony would have to admit eternal night is a bad idea after, I don’t know, a week, tops.”

Then all at once, the truth hit Twilight. “Oh, I get it. You’re not real. This is me dreaming about my dreamscape, not you admitting your evil plan was stupid.”

A very poorly concealed snicker came from the dream Luna. Twilight paid the figment of her imagination no mind and laid down to stare up at the sky. The stars weren’t out, but this exercise had done the trick last time to get her into her dream world, so she figured she could make it work again.

Still pretending not to be laughing, Dream Luna asked, “What are you doing?”

“Shush. I’m trying to calm myself and slip into my dreamscape.”

This seemed to be too much, as Dream Luna broke into outright laughter.

“Ha ha,” Twilight said flatly. “Laugh it up. But when you return to my subconscious, we’ll see who’s laughing then.”

Once she got it all out of her system, Dream Luna said, “I’ll come back in a little while to see how that works out for you,” and then took flight for who knew where.





Sweetie Belle felt the literal weight of guilt upon her. Her saddlebags burned into her side. She shouldn’t have done it, but how could she not have? It’d called to her. It wanted her. She wanted it. She knew she should confess, and apologize, and hope that was enough not to disappoint Index too much, but…she just couldn’t.

But regardless of her treachery, Sweetie Belle was determined to do what she could. She sent up the Cutie Mark Crusader emergency signal with a little magic spell and waited at the ruins of their clubhouse for the others to arrive. Surprisingly, Scootaloo showed up first with Apple Bloom following a couple minutes later despite living only a short walk away.

“My relatives,” Apple Bloom offered by way of explanation for her tardiness. “Don’t ask.”

The subject was immediately dropped, and Scootaloo picked up the thread of conversation. “So what’s up with the signal? Did we leave something dangerous out?”

All three ignored the silent, “Again,” missing from that question.

Opening the overstuffed and not incriminating side of her saddlebags, Sweetie Belle flashed the pile of papers she’d taken from Index’s pile of miscellaneous stuff. “I need someplace to hide these where I can find them later. I was hoping we could bury them somewhere in the orchard?”

“Wouldn’t that ruin them?” Scootaloo asked, to which Sweetie Belle replied that they were enchanted.

The pair then turned to Apple Bloom. She shrugged and said, “I guess.” After she made a stealthy trip into the barn to retrieve some shovels, they left to find a quiet corner of Sweet Apple Acres where they could dig unnoticed and undisturbed.

“So what are all these anyway?” Scootaloo bumped her wing against the bulging saddlebag to make clear just what ‘these’ referred to.

“No idea,” Sweetie Belle replied. “Index asked me to hide them while she recovers. ‘Do not read’ was implied.” But she really, really wanted to.

“And the other thing?” Apple Bloom asked. It need not be said that the very round bulge on the other side of Sweetie Belle’s saddlebags in no way evoked images of more paper.

“Uh, nothing. No. It stays. It’s, uh, just a pretty rock I picked up and thought Rarity might like.”

Rather skeptically, Apple Bloom drawled, “Uh-huh.”

“You know, you’re a worse liar than Applejack,” Scootaloo added. “What’s in the bag?”

With some careful prevaricating, Sweetie Belle managed to put her friends off from any further questions until they finished their primary task. She unloaded the pile of papers, parchments, and notebooks and divided them into three equal stacks. They each took one and dispersed to find a good spot to bury them. She found a particularly twisted tree near the zap apple grove that stuck out in her mind and dug where the grass had already been trampled into dirt. Hopefully, her changes to the area would go unnoticed.

Task done, Sweetie Belle returned to the clubhouse, such as it was right now, to await the return of the rest of the Crusaders. Apple Bloom arrived first this time and, not to her surprise, immediately inquired about the mysterious ‘rock’ which had come into her possession. Scootaloo managed to sneak up on her and filched it from her bag before she could react.

“What the… It is just a rock.”

Sweetie Belle stole the sphere back with her magic, yanking it out of Scootaloo’s grasp. She caught herself just before she wrapped her arms around it, held it tight to her chest, and never let it go.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Apple Bloom said. She drew closer to get a better look at the sphere. “There’s something inside it.”

“Really? Scootaloo now, too, crowded closer.

“A gem, looks like.”

Surprised, Scootaloo said, “You stole a gem?”

“No.”

When she got a better look despite Sweetie Belle’s best efforts, Scootaloo added, “A pretty big one, too. That thing must be worth a lot.”

Sweetie Belle used her magic to pick up and move both of her friends a respectful and safe few steps away and shoved the sphere back into her saddlebags as she did so. They protested, but she said, “Be careful. Index said some of her things could be dangerous.”

“Ya stole it from her?” Apple Bloom asked incredulously.

“No.” But she had. Sweetie Belle could lie and twist the truth all she wanted, but she knew what had really happened. “I’m just…keeping it safe for her.”

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo turned to each other, neither believing the excuse judging by the look on their faces.

“Okay, so why are ya ‘keeping it safe’ for her?”

“I…” More than once already, Sweetie Belle had asked herself that very same question. There had been two other spheres in the pile just like it, but the one she had in her bag had just called to her. She’d had to take it. With no better explanation than ‘just because’ in mind, she pulled Spike and Flurry’s letter from a little side pocket of her saddlebags. “I have two new pen pals for us you will not believe.”

Apple Bloom arched her eyebrows. “If Index comes around asking for that sphere, I’m not gonna lie.”

“Same,” Scootaloo added.

Although she wilted at the proclamations, Sweetie Belle accepted them. It was more than fair of them. They wouldn’t tell on her, but they wouldn’t lie either. She couldn’t ask for more than that.

“Now who are these pen pals?” Scootaloo asked.

“Well,” Sweetie Belle began. Rarity always said it was important to build up to the big reveal. “Earlier today, Index taught me a spell for sending letters. She asked me to send one to Canterlot for her. After I returned home, I decided to send a follow up letter myself to whoever was on the other end. I got this in response.” She held the letter up for her friends to read. When they got to the end, they had more or less the same initial reaction she’d had.

“Who are Spike and Flurry?”

Sweetie Belle stood a little straighter and puffed her chest out. “My thoughts exactly, but the names did sound familiar, so I asked Rarity.”

After a suitably dramatic pause, Scootaloo spoke up. “Well? Don’t keep us in suspense.”

“Prepare yourselves, girls. Flurry is Princess Flurry Heart, and Spike is Archmage Twilight’s adopted dragon.” Sweetie Belle couldn’t stop herself from emitting a little squeal of excitement.

Apple Bloom’s mouth hung open. Scootaloo’s eyes were as wide as Sweetie Belle had ever seen them.

“Whoa,” was all Scootaloo managed.

“I know, right?” Sweetie Belle danced excitedly on the tips of her hooves. “But there’s more! The letter I sent for Index to Spike had him deliver a message to a mare named Sun Wisp. Then not even five minutes later, she teleported straight into Index’s room from Canterlot! When I sat down to think about it later, it hit me. Girls, I think that may have been the archmage or Princess Celestia! I can hardly believe it myself, but who else could–”

Apple Bloom put a hoof on Sweetie Belle’s shoulder. “Take a deep breath and slow down. Yer gonna keel over if ya don’t.”

“Ah. Right. Air.” No ordinary pony could channel Pinkie Pie and hope to survive the experience. “Thanks, Apple Bloom.”

“No problem. But, uh… Well, secret messages? The archmage and the princess directly involved? Index is in the hospital, too. This sounds dangerous. And she’s in real deep. Are ya sure we shouldn’t just, ya know, sit this one out? I mean, with our track record and all…”

That made far too much sense for Sweetie Belle’s tastes. She finally had a teacher. She might have met her idol! She couldn’t give it all up now just because of a little mortal danger. She didn’t think she could handle that. If she hadn’t already ruined everything by stealing the sphere.

“Writing a few letters never hurt anypony,” Scootaloo said. “I mean, if Index really is a secret agent, that’s totally awesome. But I don’t think we’ll get caught up in whatever she’s doing.”

“Well, all right,” Apple Bloom agreed. “It would be fun.”

“Perfect! We should send another letter properly introducing all of us.”

They all shared a look and nodded. “Cutie Mark Crusaders, pen pals! Yay!”





An hour had passed since Luna left. Probably. It was hard to tell time in the dream world. The clock Twilight had conjured into existence most certainly had not ticked at the rate of one tick per second. She would need to ask if Luna had a timepiece she could set her own clock by. She imagined so. Time keeping was important, and with Luna’s presumed pre-banishment ability to slip in and out of dreams at will, she would have been able to sync it accurately.

Regardless, Twilight had managed to achieve the state of mind necessary to move from a lucid dream into her dreamscape, and her repeated failures to actually do so had frustrated her into accepting she’d been there from the beginning. But it hadn’t been time wasted. In Luna’s absence, she’d begun construction on her ultimate fantasy fortress of knowledge using everything she’d learned from reading Entering the Dream Realm.

Twilight first recalled that the base rules of her dream were, in some approximate sense, the laws she thought reality obeyed. That would not do. Even were she an engineer, she had plans in mind which wouldn’t like to be constrained by ordinary space. So she made a few changes here and there. The idea of connectivity was always more important than continuity anyway.

And so, on the summit of her little forest glade, Twilight erected a great tower, perfectly centered and perfectly round. It was her dream. If she desired a perfect circle, then infinite precision she would have.

The first floor she made into a pleasant foyer with a wooden door at the northern end and a portal frame resting against the southern wall. Having watched Luna depart through the edge of her dream, Twilight had performed some mathematical gymnastics to wrap her dreamscape around itself so that its edges existed solely inside that empty portal. Her guests, if they could be called that, would enter and depart like civilized ponies through the designated area, not as they pleased all willy-nilly.

In the second floor, Twilight conjured a magical pantry and dining room where a pony could indulge as she pleased just by opening a cupboard. She had, of course, removed the need for such things, but she knew at some point she would want to indulge in, at the very least, a consequence-free ice cream binge.

The third floor should have waited. So many other rooms needed construction which were higher priority, if lower utility, than her grand library. Yet Twilight went ahead and set to work, designing shelves, tables, chairs, everything a good library needed short of the books which, in all likelihood, she’d either have to write herself or beg Luna to provide copies of from other dreamers. Neither option really appealed, but such was life.

But still, books or no, Twilight proceeded with construction. Before she could decide on an indexing system and set up a librarian’s desk to automatically retrieve and shelve books, she first needed to choose a fractal. Her library would be infinite in size. It would self-generate. But the question was how? She was partial to the Lévy C curve, but perhaps something three dimensional would be better. There was always the Mandelbulb.

Twilight frowned when she heard the echo of hoofsteps in her tower. She quickly fixed that and soundproofed her library. Then on second thought, she made it so that sound couldn’t travel between floors of the tower at all. But then that would create some weird boundary conditions in the stairwell.

Ugh, whatever. I can deal with it later.

The door to the library swung open. Luna came through it with two pints of something frothing floating alongside her. “Huzzah! I have found the cidery!”

Twilight facehoofed. Of course you did. Knowing where this was headed, she removed the ability to become intoxicated from her dreamscape. It might or might not have an effect on guests, but it would let her keep her own wits about her if – when, really – pressured to drink. Indeed, Luna levitated a pint over to her soon after. She accepted it in her own magic and said, “Welcome back.”

“Am I?”

“I suppose,” Twilight replied. Celestia would want her to give Luna a chance.

“Wonderful! Have you ever had Apple family cider?”

“Only the unfermented variety.” Twilight brought the overflowing pint in her magic to eye level and inspected it warily. After taking a cautious sip, she got more or less what she expected from a fizzy drink made of fermented apples. She couldn’t deny that it was good, but it would be better without the alcohol. “Have you been prowling around the Apple family’s dreams, or are they just that old?”

After Luna finished guzzling half her pint, she left out a refreshed, “Ah!” and then magicked her muzzle clean. “Hmm, I believe I still have a few barrels of their cider preserved from the founding of Equestria.”

“No way.”

“’Tis true! If the stasis spells have held up.” Luna gazed into her cider with a pensive expression, but the moment soon passed. “Ah well. There’s always memories.” She held her pint up expectantly.

With a resigned sigh, Twilight knocked hers against Luna’s. Drink spilled all over her nice, new floor. She then reared her head back for what could only be described as a swig. Alcoholic or no, it was still Apple cider.

“It’ll be nice to come home to something familiar,” Luna said aloud to nopony. “I keep in touch with the culture, but I’d be lying if I said I’ve felt involved.”

Twilight buried her sympathy in another drink.

“Heh. I didn’t realize before, but these walls are made of ivory, are they not? Very amusing.”

Slowly, Twilight allowed a smile to grow on her face. “I’m glad somepony appreciates my subtle sense of humor, even if it’s only you. Celestia is usually too busy to notice, and my brother thinks they’re inappropriate. Speaking of…”

With but a thought, the library floor was clean once more. Twilight then relocated the two of them downstairs to the dining hall where food and drink belonged. She eyed the walls carefully before selecting the best location to add another offshoot to the floor. Past it, she quickly threw together an appropriately disreputable tavern and populated it with background ponies, music, and surly barmares. It wasn’t her best work, but it would do in a pinch. After all, if she was going to drink with the sort of enemy, she was going to do it in style.

“Come on.” Twilight gestured for Luna to follow her inside with a hoof. “I made us a table.”

Greatly amused, judging by the smiling laughter, Luna hurried after Twilight and shut the door behind her. They took the small, round table Twilight had specifically instructed the background ponies to stay away from. They sat on opposite sides, the fully grown alicorn snagging a lower chair and the miniature one reluctantly sizing up another. Luna flagged down a barmare for a fresh pint and seemed delighted when it responded to the request.

“Very impressive work. This is truly only your second time here?”

“I’m the Archmage of Equestria,” Twilight plainly stated. “Even if I were sleeping with Celestia” – something which felt even weirder to hear when she said it – “she doesn’t give that title out lightly. Magic and mathematics are my bread and butter.”

“Of course, but to see is to believe.”

That was fair enough, Twilight supposed.

“Now I have a query. Why do you persist as a tiny alicorn? Thy ruse is up.”

“There was no ruse,” Twilight protested. “I showed up like this, and you made assumptions all on your own.”

Luna sulked on her end of the table. “My sister has taught you well. But my question remains. Surely you at least wish to size yourself up?”

Dealing with the height difference to her normal size was getting a little annoying. Twilight had known she’d want all of her lost stature back sooner or later, so she’d been careful not to make anything filly-sized. But she’d delayed the change for a reason. “Celestia said I should ask you why I’m like this. I figured it’d be better to wait.”

Luna hummed into her cider. “And you would believe what I tell you?”

“I don’t see what reason you’d have to lie.” Twilight shrugged. “What are you gonna do? Try to convince me it means I’m meant to be your slave?”

“Oh? Remembering a nightmare, are you?”

Twilight paled beneath her coat. She did remember that nightmare, and she also remembered what secret it revealed. “You saw that?”

“Indeed I did. I must say, your subconscious has some very creative ideas about me. Perhaps once we’ve gotten to know each other better.” That smirk on Luna’s face was infuriating. “For now, I’m far more interested in what research you’re engaged in whose destruction actually shattered your dream.”

Twilight buried her muzzle in her drink and didn’t say a word – no hints, no clever word games, no anything. She was only recently considering telling Celestia. If Luna won their sibling squabble and found out before it was too late that she not only took it seriously but had made progress – she didn’t want to even contemplate the scenario.

“But that can wait, too. Your question has an answer you may dislike. Are you sure you wish to hear it?”

“Of course.” Any change of topic would be an improvement. Besides, Twilight had never been one to avoid facing hard truths.

Luna nodded in approval. “In one’s dreamscape, a pony by default takes on the appearance which she most deeply identifies with. This is usually not precisely as we are in reality. We so rarely see ourselves exactly as we are. This often manifests as a little difference in height, a more or perhaps less manageable mane, straighter teeth, so on and so forth.

“Then there are ponies who experience high levels of body dysphoria. It could be an earth pony who wishes to be a mage. A stallion who longs to be a mare. A griffon who desires to be a pony. I will, of course, not name names, but it’s more common than you might expect. The more deeply ingrained cases tend to lead to varying levels of self-destructive behavior, but sometimes the subjects channel that negative energy to productive ends.”

After a drink to wet her mouth, Luna continued with her psychoanalysis. “You are difficult to place. From the short time we’ve known each other, I can tell this isn’t your first experience with wings. Magically, few can rival you, let alone claim to be your better. When you speak, I imagine you’re used to being obeyed. It’s no stretch to say you have a taste of what life is like as an alicorn. But at the same time, you know you’re not one. When you compare yourself to my sister, you come up, shall we say, short.”

“Hence my size. Ha ha. Very funny.” Twilight sighed. “But you’re probably right. There are times I feel like a discount alicorn.” She took a sip of her drink and then, holding her mug close, mumbled, “Channel it into productive ends, eh?”

“Many ponies have wasted their lives chasing that dream. It would serve you well not to dwell upon such thoughts.”

Twilight couldn’t tell if that was a warning or honest advice. Every sensible sorceress dreamed of becoming an alicorn at one point or another, so she imagined Luna had repeated those same words to many a unicorn. Regardless, the slip of her tongue had served its purpose, so she changed the subject. “What now? You’re here to get to know me, and I’m guessing you’re going to keep showing up no matter what I do or say, so what’s the plan?”

“Well, we could just talk.” Luna leaned forward with an eager smile. “Or we could do something more interesting.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow to suggest Luna continue.

“You actually couldn’t have chosen a better setting. I would like to invite you on an adventure.”

It took a few seconds for Twilight’s brain to process that she’d just been invited to join a quest in a seedy tavern by a dark, suspicious figure. “Oh, you have to be kidding me! You play Ogres and Oubliettes?”

“You’re familiar?”

“My brother and son drag me into games from time to time.” It always turned into a massive time sink, but Twilight certainly understood the appeal. And it was an enjoyable way to spend time with family while encouraging the development of Spike’s creativity and imagination.

Luna tapped her forehooves together merrily. “I’ve been a huge fan ever since I found somepony who knew the rules well enough to reproduce a copy of the source books for me. Of course, we do things a little differently in my group. I’ve had decades to build up campaigns in my own dreamscape.”

That was clue enough for Twilight to know where this was going. She facehoofed. “You want to take me LARPing? Like with foam swords, costumes, and everything?”

“Of course not. This is the realm of dreams. No pain and such, but everything is real. We play by the rules, which you’ll be bound to in that part of my dreamscape, with a few quality of life allowances. And I’m the GM for our current campaign, so you get to be the hero fighting my unquestionable evil as you wish. A win-win.”

“You’re serious?” Twilight said more than asked. She still had trouble wrapping her mind around this course of events.

“Completely.”

Head buried in her hooves, Twilight fully conceded to the madness that had infected her life lately. “Fine.” It won. What was the point of resisting anymore? “Just go put a copy of the source material you’re using in my library.” The least she could get out of this was a few initial books to line her shelves. “I’ll start thinking of what character I want to make.”

“Excellent. I’ll return shortly and then go see if all of my group is asleep yet. When you’re done reviewing, we can get you set up with the character creator.” As Luna rose to leave, she added, “Oh, also you won’t have dream magic once you leave your own dreamscape, and regular pony magic doesn’t work in the O&O area of mine. If you don’t want to go as an alicorn filly–”

“You know what?” interjected a very frustrated Twilight. “I do. Just go get me a rulebook.”
> Chapter Nine - Meet the Party
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“’Tis an interesting idea. I understand your approach. It might be possible. But I would hate to see you waste your life on this over a misunderstanding. Promise to keep this secret?”





I am the biggest fool in history. Queen Idiot. The master of thoughtlessness.

Such were the only words Twilight felt adequate to describe herself as she took her first trembling steps into Luna’s dreamscape. She couldn’t go back now. Luna would either oblige, which would happen eventually anyway and spoil whatever tentative rapport she’d built by accepting Luna’s invitation, or laugh at her helplessness. She had no power here. In her own dream, she felt safe. Nopony could touch her there. Perhaps Luna could when her full strength came free of its shackles, but right now with the greater part of her powers sealed away, she seemed capable of creating bridges between dreamscapes and little else.

But here? In Luna’s own dream? Here, she was an unrivaled goddess. Who knew what she could do to a pony with the universe bending at her every whim. Could she trap a pony’s consciousness here inside her own magic? Could she rewrite memories and loyalties? It only occurred to Twilight after she’d gone through the colorful, swirling portal out of her own dreamscape to consider how dangerous gallivanting off after her number one problem might be.

Twilight used to consider herself a brave pony. Bravery was for overcoming fear. Fear was the natural response to danger. In her early years as the archmage, she’d thrown herself into the work and ended up in at least one life-threatening situation every moon. But time had a way of changing things as experience and skill accrued. Her panicked reaction to Pinkie Pie’s introduction, among other things, should have served as a warning.

She hadn’t needed to be brave in years.

“You coming?”

Twilight forced herself to breathe evenly and cast her mind back to her younger days. She recalled her near brush with death in the struggle for the Alicorn Amulet. She remembered her harrowing experience with the Inspiration Manifestation. Those missions in particular had taught her the value of caution, but when had caution turned into cowardice?

Probably not long after we decided to roll the dice and pursue immortality.

But that wasn’t the point! Her past self would slap her and tell her to get her act together. She was the Archmage of Equestria, not some two-bit hedge mage. When she got in over her head, she stood a little taller. When magic failed her, as sometimes happened, she found another solution. She may have gotten herself into this mess, but she would damn well face it with her head held high.

“Yeah, just got lost in my thoughts.”

Twilight followed after Luna through a short series of doors with ever more specific labels until they came upon the one which contained the world for the campaign they would be playing today. In all honesty, she’d expected something wide, grand, and open from Luna’s dreamscape, but she did admire the level of organization involved. When she commented on it, an explanation soon followed.

“I used to do that,” Luna said, “but eventually there was just so much that the clutter needed sorting. I recall once taking a shortcut from one end of a continent to the other, back through another, then finally took one across an ocean to find a book I’d lost a couple decades before and only vaguely remembered well enough to retrace my steps. It was a tangly web of madness not worth the majesty.”

After a thousand years and however much time Luna had put into her dreamscape before her banishment, Twilight could understand how it could get a little out of hoof. Not that she expected to have such problems herself, but she resolved to keep on top of maintaining her dream’s organization nonetheless.

Luna held a hoof on the last door. “Are you ready to meet everyone?”

Everyone? Interesting. “I’ll be on my very best behavior.”

The door opened to reveal a bustling city. As Twilight had been informed in advance, the tech level looked to be about four hundred years behind modern times with historically accurate dress, architecture, and, when she listened closely, the nonsensical background chatter showed the age of the language. She spoke Old, Middle, and Modern Ponish and put it roughly halfway between the latter two. Spike and Shining would be so jealous if they found out about this. Maybe once the dust had settled after the solstice, she could rearrange her schedule for a little more sleep so they could make this a regular thing.

“Hmm… Ah! There they are. You can tell by the smoke.”

Twilight facehoofed. There was, in fact, a large plume of smoke rising into the sky not far away. That hardly boded well. She’d heard some of her brother’s adventuring stories, and she had a feeling she was going to have more than a few of her own to share before the night was through.

After navigating around a few buildings and flying over a crowd of gawkers blocking the street, Twilight and Luna landed just outside a tavern in the process of burning to the ground. A tavern built principally out of stone, Twilight might add, which typically meant one thing: dragonfire.

A group of four loitered conspicuously right outside the tavern, chatting and watching the flames with company and ale.

The first was a purple earth pony mare who Twilight would swear by having seen before somewhere. Her mane and tail were a darker shade than her coat. She had a bow on her back, which combined with her rugged manner of dress, probably meant she was a ranger. Bows weren’t exactly the best choice of weapons for anything without a horn or hands, but Luna had mentioned some quality of life allowances in the game.

Next came a pegasus stallion with a cerulean coat offsetting the ball of fluff he probably called a cerise mane. Oddly, he had a pair of antennae sticking out of his head, but when Twilight recognized the language of the provocative sounding words coming out of his mouth, she felt confident that he was a breezie in the waking world. He wore a bit of light armor paired with a huge sword, which likely made him a fighter. She couldn’t stop herself from imagining how adorable he would be as a two inch tall warrior wielding a toothpick against a hydra but kept that thought to herself.

The third in the lineup was a cyan dragon with an arm wrapped over the shoulders of the fourth member of the party, who had returned the gesture. She and her robes looked a bit worse for the wear. Twilight assumed she’d gotten into a fight, considering the flaming tavern. That generally didn’t go over well for sorcerers.

But then perhaps she’d been too quick to pronounce judgment, for the last pony was a kirin. She had a mandolin hanging at her side by a strap. Whether she knew how to play it or not probably didn’t matter much here, only that her character knew how. Twilight’s bits were on her being a bard. She also had a light gold coat, grayish green scales, and an orange-brown mane and tail which all looked very familiar.

Luna spoke first and announced their presence to the group. “Behold! I have returned with the fifth member of your party. She has agreed to play a cleric and act as your dedicated healer.” There was a hint of amused scolding to that last part. “Meet Twilight Sparkle.”

“Twilight?”

The mare in question gave a half-wave in greeting. “Hello, Autumn.” She didn’t exactly feel betrayed to find a familiar face here. They weren’t nearly close enough for that depth of emotion even if Luna had given an honest explanation of her circumstances. It just caught Twilight off guard.

“You are so cute!” Autumn disentangled herself from the dragon to come closer for a better look. “I love the new look.”

“You know each other?” Luna asked, genuine surprise in her voice.

With as much enthusiasm as she put into everything, Autumn wrapped an arm around Twilight, pulled them together side by side, and replied, “We’re cousins!”

Twilight managed to release herself and get her personal space back. “Yes, well, the kirin population is very small. Most of you are some manner of cousin to me.” To answer the spirit of Luna’s question, she added, “I had a mission which brought me to the Peaks of Peril. I stopped by Autumn’s village when I was done to study the Stream of Silence. Things happened.”

“You bet they did. Thanks again for helping me brew the antidote.”

With a shrug, Twilight said, “It’s what I do.” It would have been a lot easier if they’d found a supply of foal’s-breath flowers, but they’d worked around it.

“Right.” Luna clapped her hooves together to get everyone’s attention. “Introductions. Name, where you’re from, and some friendly blackmail material.” When she noticed the look Twilight gave her after requesting both name and origin, she smirked. The sampling would obviously be biased, but she was brazenly giving Twilight character witnesses to interview in the real world.

“Ooh, ooh, ooh! Me first!” No one opposed Autumn’s desire despite the fact that everyone here already knew her. “I’m Autumn Blaze. I’m from the kirin village in the Peaks of Peril.” She lowered her voice and put a hoof to the side of her mouth. “At some times of day, Silhouette Gloom of the Sundown Lands puts on a little weight, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

Twilight facehoofed. As no one else knew what on Equus Autumn was talking about, she just said, “It’s what she named her shadow,” and killed that topic of conversation before it could get started. “I’m Twilight Sparkle. I assume this is a zero formalities group, so just Twilight is fine. I’m from Canterlot in Equestria.” Sighing, she added, “I got expelled from magic kindergarten.” There was much laughter and calls for an explanation, but she kept her mouth shut.

Eventually, the group gave up, and the earth pony went next. “I’m Berry Punch. From Ponyville, Equestria.”

Of course she is. I don’t know what I expected. But that did explain why Twilight thought she looked a little familiar.

“I used to be the town drunk. Like, in the most literal sense. Ponyville is just the right size to have a town drunk and for that to be ‘quaint’ and ‘rustic’. I keep my drinking to my dreams now.”

Berry Punch jabbed the probably a breezie, the next in the circle, with an elbow to get him to take his turn.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going already.” That was a very thick accent, but an understandable one. “I’m Seabreeze. I live in Lochranliesh, and I’m allergic to pollen.”

“What? Really?” Twilight blurted out before she could stop herself.

If Seabreeze took any offense, he didn’t show it. “Yeah, I know. It’s a real pain in the wing.”

And now they came to the dragon. “I am Ember–”

Twilight’s eyes snapped to Luna.

“–daughter of Dragon Lord Torch–”

Luna, clearly, had been waiting for just that reaction.

“–the soon to be winner of the upcoming Dragon Trials–”

That insufferable mare had the gall to wink at Twilight.

“–and the next Lord of the Dragons!” The diplomatic disaster waiting to happen finished her self-introduction by spewing a great column of her magenta flame straight up into the sky.

The most ancient dragons were the size of mountains and spent the vast majority of their days hibernating. The fire they breathed in their sleep created the volcanoes and lava pools of the dragon lands. They were the number one reason Celestia had agreed to sign the Alicorn Accords and permanently retire from warfare. She could defeat them, sure, but at what cost? Twilight didn’t want to think of the consequences if the Dragon Lord’s daughter decided to interfere in Equestria’s internal dispute on behalf of a friend.

“Yeah, yeah,” Seabreeze said with a roll of his eyes. “No one here is impressed, Princess. We have an alicorn, an archmage, a loon, a drunkard, and someone who couldn’t care less.”

Berry Punch raised her hoof. “For the record, I’m impressed.”

With a sage nod, Autumn added, “Your fire is getting much stronger. I actually felt it this round.”

The merry crackling in the background and the sharp snap of a support beam gave that statement a little extra context. Rather flatly, Twilight thought to herself, I guess they both burnt down the tavern, then.

“Don’t encourage her!” Seabreeze said.

Looking a little smug now, Ember finished her introduction. “My embarrassing secret is being friends with you equines.”

For that, however, there was much booing and many claims that it didn’t count. Twilight felt it did. It was kind of sweet, really. From what little she knew of the largely anarchic and highly insular culture of the dragon lands, this sort of palling around – never mind O&O – would be a sign of weakness to pounce on and take advantage of. Luna probably knew that, too, as she stepped in and took her own turn to introduce herself.

“I’m Luna. I’m from…well, Everfree was lost to the forest. The moon, then. When Equestria was young and the land untamed, my sister and I tacitly encouraged our apotheosis to better keep order.” She shrugged. “It served its purpose. Anyway, one evening I was walking past an amphitheater when I heard some preaching. Curious to see what was being said, I found a shady area nearby to listen in, but I was noticed and invited up on stage to help reenact some historical events. Everything went well, and I went home with a warm glow. The next night, I discovered that I’d stolen the lead role in a drama.”

The entire group laughed. Even Twilight found herself smiling and snickering.

“I was mortified. After I apologized to the actress meant to play me, I didn’t dare show my face there again for two decades.” Luna glared down at her friends. “As you miscreants should be. How many of my taverns have you destroyed now?”

“Pretty much every one we’ve been to,” Autumn answered without a hint of shame, and it seemed Ember held a similar opinion bordering on a point of pride.

Twilight slipped under Autumn between her legs and then sidled up to Luna. Lowering her voice, she hissed, “You brought me here to foalsit.”

A little illusion of a floating parchment appeared, one apparently only Twilight could see. It purported to be a private message, which reminded her of the ‘quality of life’ features Luna had yet to explain. She assumed this was one of them and read, ‘Do try to keep them from burning the entire campaign to the ground. There’s a backup I can copy over if I ever need to fix something or want to start fresh, but don’t tell them that. Have fun, and remember the golden rule: if you piss off the white mage, you don’t get healed.’

Twilight tried to zap the note with her magic only to remember reality didn’t work as it should in this part of Luna’s dreamscape. Instead, she flailed her hoof at it in the hope of disrupting the magic at work or at least batting it to the ground. The parchment vanished, thankfully, but now she also had everyone’s attention.

Right… Uh… “Shall we get started?”





Twilight blinked. She was back in the hospital again. And she’d just been about to heal Ember, the squishy dragon sorceress who’d picked a fistfight with something more threatening than a marshmallow. Hopefully that turned out well. She suspected it would. Ember was an evocation specialist and had dedicated her entire character growth to that purpose. Worst case scenario, she should be able to burn anything preventing her from running away to ashes.

In other news, I’m awake. Twilight tried to rise, but her body still protested against the action. And still undergoing repair. But she did manage to roll over and make herself more comfortable this time, so progress had been made. Magic? Making the attempt felt like splitting her head open. Nope. But she did manage to focus a little power in her horn. She could cast a spell if she really needed to.

So… Being awake was no fun. But it did answer a question. I guess my consciousness never actually leaves my body when I dreamwalk with Luna. Good to know. She may still be able to trap me if so inclined, but she at least can’t strand me somewhere. That makes me feel marginally more comfortable about this.

Yet that brought up a more important question. Did she want to keep dreamwalking with Luna? It was nice to see Autumn again now that the kirin was a little more put together. Her cousin hadn’t done well in a village of mutes. And she could certainly see the advantage of getting to know Ember, especially if the princess really would become a queen in the coming years. And in all honesty, Twilight had enjoyed herself. Clobbering monsters whose only purpose was to be evil with a mace had been very therapeutic after the past couple weeks she’d been having.

But was it worth the risk? No, not by a long shot.

Not without an ulterior motive of her own.

For whatever reason, be it a distraction, an honest interest, or something more sinister, Luna had offered her hoof in friendship. But friendship, as Twilight understood it, was a double-edged sword. While Luna tried to win enough of her loyalty to grudgingly tolerate her victory and cooperate, Twilight, in turn, could try to win enough of Luna’s to convince her to go talk to her sister and give Celestia a chance to make everything right. She had borne Loyalty. If that virtue remained to her, the idea might very well work. Assuming they got along, that was.

Considering that the Elements of Harmony were by no means guaranteed to be in working order before the solstice, Twilight considered this a good backup plan. If it worked, great. If not, well, it cost her little to attempt. What would she be doing with her time while everypony else but her slept otherwise? Research? While that sounded lovely, it was, sadly, lower priority right now.

But if Twilight was going to do this, she needed to be smart about it. She was going to put herself at serious risk with this plan, so she wanted as big of a safety net as she could provide herself. It was one thing to brave the chimera’s den with shield and spear at the ready and another entirely to strut in with two legs bound looking to wrestle.

Twilight summoned a nurse. With the small scale of the hospital and the time of night, it was a little while before one arrived, but she was in no hurry. In addition to some water and something light but solid to put into her stomach, she asked for a pen or pencil – she doubted she could use a quill right now – and a sheet of parchment.

‘Sun Wisp,’ Twilight wrote after munching on some crackers, ‘I’ve been dreaming of your sister again. We went traveling to see other ponies. I worried about getting home. Who knows what could happen to me out there? But I made it back safe and sound in the end. I think. I wonder if I remember everything properly. Well anyway, do wake me up when you read this. I’d like to talk. Index. P.S. In case I forget to mention it, your sister and Ember are friends.’

That would do just fine. If anypony but Celestia read the letter, it would come off as private but dreadfully mundane. She, however, would see it as the status report it was and recognize the request for regular screenings against mental tampering. Not all mind magics were strictly speaking reversible, but a second round of brainwashing could always undo the damage. While it wasn’t an ideal solution, Twilight was willing to take the risk.

After placing the letter on the table next to her bed, Twilight braced herself for what she had to do next. She needed to ensure Celestia actually got to read the letter. If Twilight woke up with her loyalties flipped before Celestia came to refresh her polymorph, she would destroy the note and pretend nothing was wrong. She couldn’t leave that opportunity open to Luna.

When will my polymorph wear off? Celestia was last here in the evening. I don’t think she cast it on me again at the time, but I should assume she did anyway. At the very latest, then, she’ll be back… Twilight glanced at a clock. –tonight. I need to put myself under until then.

Twilight rolled over, took a deep breath, and bit down on her pillow. She summoned up her magic and forced herself to weave it into a sleep spell. If the spell hadn’t done it’s job, the agony of its creation certainly would have sufficed.





Back in her own dreamscape, Twilight idly flipped through one of the O&O books Luna had dropped off for her earlier, brushing up on the rules. She wasn’t about to stumble through a field of attacks of opportunity again. That had left her more than a little chagrined. When she was done, she was going to know the system inside and out. When she was done, it would be her laying the clever traps that took advantage of the rules. Who would be laughing then?

Maybe she was trying to distract herself a little too hard. Her befriend Luna plan had one necessary element to it which put her on edge even here in her own dreamscape. She truly didn’t wish to test the extent of Luna’s power over dreams if a fight broke out between them. This dreamscape was, after all, her very magic made manifest. That should give anypony who could overcome her natural advantage a direct means to affect her real self, although she knew not how one would go about doing so. That was the trouble with dreams. What was truly real about them? Nothing? Everything?

A light, pleasant chime filled the tower, letting Twilight know she had a visitor. A quick scrying spell, unnecessary but familiar, showed her that Luna had come without company.

Perfect. Twilight snapped her book shut and replaced it upon its shelf as she left her library. She and I need to have a little chat.

Down only a single flight, Twilight found her way into the tavern and left the door open behind her in invitation. She obtained an order of nonalcoholic cider from the barmare just as Luna walked in. She nodded sharply at their table, drink in her magic, and went to sit down. A few moments later, Luna joined her with what looked like an ale of some variety.

“You’re bigger.”

Indeed, Twilight had aged herself up to her normal size. She’d kept the wings, however. “How did Ember’s recklessness turn out?”

“She lost the fight, but her character survived. I subbed in an NPC for you until the battle ended.”

That was more or less how Twilight had expected that to go. “Sorry about dropping out like that.”

“It happens,” Luna said, shrugging. “One of the disadvantages of playing in dreams. We usually give lost players a few minutes to fall back asleep, then check up on them once in a while after that.”

From the sound of it, Twilight had missed the first deadline and, judging by how long she’d had alone here, possibly the second as well. “Are they waiting on us?” It’d still been the middle of the night when she’d put herself into a magically induced coma.

Luna nodded. “They wanted to come over with dreamwarming presents, but I put them off until next time. Too much of a hassle.”

“Dreamwarming… That’s a thing?”

“Of course,” Luna said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It has been for nearly nine centuries now. I thought my sister taught you better manners than that.”

Twilight refused to dignify that with a remark. “We can keep this short, then.” It was time to play her hand. Springing this on Luna at the eleventh hour probably wouldn’t end well for her backup plan.

“Is this about Ember? I do admit her position first drew my attention, but I will not be inviting dragons to rampage across Equestria in my name. I have no interest in becoming the Princess of Ashes.”

“Comforting,” Twilight said dryly, “but not what I wanted to talk about. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to bite my head off.”

In response to the warning, Luna tipped her head back and guzzled down the entirety of her drink. “I’m not going to like this conversation, am I?” When Twilight answered that no, she would not, she ordered another round for herself. “Proceed.”

“Very well.” Twilight steeled herself for her task. “Even if we ended up in a whirlwind romance or some such nonsense over the next…twenty-three days, Celestia will be my priority come the solstice.”

“Obviously,” Luna muttered. “Your point?”

“Whether you believe it or not, Celestia resigned herself to your victory years ago.”

Impatient, Luna asked, “And?” with the kind of annoyed indifference that said that, if this even came as a surprise, it was only right and proper in the face of inevitability.

This was far from the first time Twilight had dealt with snippy negotiators, even if the alicorn involved was usually on her side. She kept her cool and continued, “All efforts to ensure her continued freedom are under my own initiative with her reluctant assistance. I am the threat you need to deal with to ensure your freedom.”

Now Twilight had Luna’s attention. Before tempers could rise, she continued, “I want to make a deal.”

That brought Luna up short. Her eyebrows slowly arched up, and much of the fire in her eyes faded into curiosity and amusement with the puny mortal who considered herself a threat. “What manner of bargain do you seek?”

“In the event that you win, first, secure Celestia however you wish, but treat her with respect. Gloat if you must, but don’t torture her, and leave her mind untouched. Mine as well, of course.”

Luna snorted. “You must think me a monster to request such.”

Anypony could be a monster in anger, and Luna, by her own admission, had a lot of anger. Twilight chose not to comment.

“Second, you allow at least me to visit Celestia, whether that be in person or in dreams.” As Luna made no remark beyond an indifferent hum, Twilight continued, “Third, just in case, rule Equestria properly. No eternal night. No rampaging dragons. No rolling our legal system back. No brainwashing. Nothing of the sort.”

Luna rolled her eyes.

“Lastly, you will help me cast a spell in the future.” It might require as little effort as noninterference, but Twilight would feel much better if she had an alicorn overlooking the process to ensure its success. “I’ve not finished designing it yet. It may take centuries for me to do so, but when it’s done, I will call upon you.”

While there was no way Luna didn’t want to know more about that last condition, she merely nursed her ale with a contemplative look in her eyes. “Curious,” she murmured. Then she set her mug down. “And what do you offer in exchange?”

“Should you win, I will continue to serve as the archmage with the same dedication I showed Celestia. I will also be a zealous advocate for your rule. In addition, in either outcome, I will not reimprison you.”

Twilight had expected disbelief, maybe even laughter, but instead she received a dark look. “So I didn’t imagine it. I felt my faint, lingering connection to Honesty snap only a few days ago.” Luna closed her eyes and breathed out through her nose just loud enough to hear. “But not Loyalty or Laughter. Twenty-three days. You have a mere twenty-three days to find appropriate bearers and teach them to harness the Elements’ might. You offer little that you would not regardless.”

“I ask little,” Twilight countered.

“But do you?”

Before Luna could say anything more, Twilight played her last card. “Yes, yes. My little mystery spell. It might interest you to know we’ve rediscovered world magic in the time you’ve been away.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Celestia doesn’t know this, but I’ve taken the concept a bit further than she has. All of Equus’s ambient magic at the tip of my horn.” Eyes narrowing, she added, “Don’t give me a reason to use it.”

A look of shock erupted onto Luna’s face. It quickly morphed into horror. “This is possible.” It wasn’t a question. She was just trying to wrap her head around the concept. “You’re not lying.”

Twilight spread her wings to their full extent. “I am not an alicorn, and yet I have reason to see myself as one, you said.”

“That you would go so far…” Once the shock wore off, Luna spoke with heavy words. “You truly fear I might be worth the cost.” She grasped her mug with her magic, leaned back, and downed its entire contents. Once it was empty, she let it drop back onto the table. “Very well, Twilight. We have a deal.”

The bargain was struck. The two tapped hooves and shook on it.

Twilight slumped over onto the table. There she let out a relieved sigh, making no attempt to hide what it was now that they were back to pretending to be friends. “I have a new respect for the people who negotiated the Alicorn Accords.”

“Yes, I imagine the experience was much akin to how I felt when facing Discord.”

Oh, she was there for that, wasn’t she? While Twilight had known in some superficial sense, she’d not yet really taken the time to update her understanding of history to account for Luna’s presence. She’d need to find the time for that someday soon.

“Out of curiosity,” Luna began, “if you don’t intend to imprison me, why bother with the Elements?”

As it was hardly an admission of anything – Luna would be a fool to not expect a rainbow to the face upon her return – Twilight replied, “I intend to have six ponies bearing the Elements instead of two. That will give me better control over them to use their gentler settings. Apparently, they have a therapy beam. It can force you to let go of your anger and hurt.”

Luna snorted. With some dry amusement, she said, “And you asked me not to brainwash ponies.”

“Yes, well, I expected Nightmare Moon to bring about eternal night after a thousand years of isolation had shattered her sanity. Instead, I got you.” And now that she’d brought it up, Twilight wondered if the Elements would even have much of an effect on Luna. She had plenty of anger to resolve, certainly, but was that the root of her issues with Celestia? But then perhaps it would heal whatever lingering damage Sombra had inflicted upon her. Maybe that would be enough.

“A delight, I’m sure.”

It was better than the alternative, Twilight could admit.

“You know, I once considered approaching you not long after my sister made you her student.”

Twilight couldn’t help but laugh at the idea. “That would not have worked out for you. I was the worst at that age. Celestia was my impossibly wise mentor with all the answers. I would have driven you mad with my obsequious hero worship.”

“Yes,” Luna acknowledged with a nod. “Hence why I decided against it. But it would have been worth it to receive even half of the genuine devotion you’ve shown her this night.” She sighed, “Oh well,” and then rose to her hooves. “Shall we take our leave?”

“Lead the way.”





One by one, Luna’s friends had woken in the real world and dropped out of the dream. Once Berry Punch and Seabreeze had vanished, she’d called an end to the game for the night. They’d then retired to a classy penthouse in a big city to relax and engage in casual conversation as their last hours of rest dwindled away. The view reminded Twilight a lot of Manehattan, as though it had been created from a memory of a memory. It might very well be part of a full-scale model of Equestria.

Autumn was the last to leave. She performed in evening musical theater and late-night comedy for a living, so it came as no surprise, although Ember had vanished less than an hour prior. Dragon princesses got to sleep in, it seemed.

And then they were alone.

“So how did you enjoy your first session?” Luna asked as she draped herself over a couch.

“It was more enjoyable than I was expecting.” It’d certainly helped that Twilight had already known Autumn. Going in without any familiar faces would have made it much harder to get into the game. “Honestly, I think I actually liked working with a dysfunctional party.”

It’d been a great stress relief to turn off her internal filter. In Canterlot, there was a careful dance Twilight had to perform to only anger those she intended to. In Ponyville, she had to bite her tongue and pretend the village wasn’t driving her insane. But here, she could just speak her mind. Everyone had thick enough skins to take it, give it back, and oftentimes even laugh.

“So is this a nightly thing for you five?”

“Certainly not,” Luna replied. “I would kill myself. Have you ever GMed before?”

Twilight shook her head.

“It is a consuming role. Weekly sessions are reasonable. Anything more than that requires sacrifices and, if the stars align, cooperative players.” Luna rolled over onto her back to gaze upside down out at the drifting clouds. “How long can I expect you here?”

Twilight quirked an eyebrow at the mare who held the keys. “If you don’t want me here, you can escort me out.”

“No, no. I ask only because your sleep has been far more erratic than usual lately.”

“Ah.” That was a fair point. “To be honest, I couldn’t say. Life has been a little frustrating lately, and I landed myself in the hospital during a fit of foalish pique.”

Luna broke out into laughter.

Pointedly ignoring the giggling goddess, Twilight went to investigate one of the bookshelves she’d noticed earlier. She recognized most of the titles on display. Most were popular or cult adventure stories, but some other genres had worked their way in as well. There was even the occasional scientific journal. When she selected a book at random and opened it, she discovered, to some surprise, that it wasn’t just for show. She flipped through the pages, skimming the text, and found that it read more or less as she remembered it.

“Gifts from friends.” Luna’s magic mixed with Twilight’s as she approached. Once they’d passed the book off from one to the other, she opened it to the dedication page and smiled fondly down at the inscription.

‘Nothing we could do would ever repay you for the time you’ve given us together, but we thought you would enjoy this long after we’re gone. Pear Delight and Bellflower Apple.’

“Their families hated each other. They carried on their romance here where nopony could interfere.” Luna smiled ever wider as she replaced the book upon its shelf. “Centuries down the line in your parents’ generation, two of their descendants said enough was enough and married. They would have been so proud.”

Now that sounded more in line with Twilight’s approach to such matters. “Do you know who Cadance is?”

“My niece, your sister-in-law?”

Twilight nodded. “Her relationship with her parents has always been strained. Announcing that she intended to marry a commoner, even the beloved unicorn Captain of the Royal Guard, pushed them over the edge. I was displeased when I heard what things they threatened her with, disownment amongst the lesser offenses. Let’s just say they changed their tune overnight. Nopony knows why.”

The story earned an appraising look from Luna. “I think you and I will be very good friends indeed. Tell me, I hear there was an incident with my nephew as well.”

Just the reminder set Twilight’s blood on fire. Never in her life had she felt so objectified! “Short version or long version?”

“Hmm, long.”

“Okay, so I’ve just come of age. I’m new on the job. Years later when I think to read the EIS’s and Royal Guard’s files on me, I find out there was this massive power struggle going on with young, naive me at the epicenter. This is after years of sabotage attempts I never noticed and even a few thwarted assassinations. Celestia is, of course, fanning the flames at this point by offloading more responsibilities she traditionally performed onto me.

“Then along comes Blueblood. He recognizes early on that I’m not going anywhere. He doesn’t like me, but he knows a tiny fraction of what I could do for him with my magic and entertains wild fantasies that are more realistic than he believes. He has a plan to restore the status quo. He wants to ‘take one for the team’. All that power should remain within the royal family – better yet, out of Celestia’s hooves – and there’s one clear and simple solution.”

When Luna suggested, “Marry Cadance to you?” in jest, Twilight paused in her pacing and wild gesticulations to laugh. She might have actually considered it if Shining had never been in the picture if only to not hurt Cadance’s feelings.

“Hardly. Blueblood’s parents summon mine to a meeting. I don’t even hear about it until the day before when it comes up at dinner while I’m visiting. They have no idea what it’s about, so I tag along. I’d already learned to be wary of the nobility at that point. When we get to their manor, they immediately start firing off passive-aggressive remarks about my presence, which naturally has no effect on me. Soon enough, they’re talking about arranging a marriage between me and their son who’s expressed his interest.

“So there I am, confused, kind of flattered, and uninterested. When I politely decline, they tell me it’s not my place to decide such things. Not my place! As if I’m chattel to be traded away. As if, once married, I would become a biddable, pliant creature. As if I would meekly raise my tail and consent to be raped. As if anypony had the leverage over me necessary to make me comply. As if–”

Twilight abruptly awoke coughing and sputtering, frigid and wet. The first sight that met her eyes was Celestia in her Sun Wisp form with her infernal bucket. It’d been the worst mistake of Twilight’s life to unwittingly help her with its design. And it’d already refilled itself as she pulled back for another–

“Wait, wait, wait!” Twilight quickly interjected, forehooves held up in supplication. “I’m calm. I’m calm.” She breathed deeply, turning her thoughts to the far more satisfying conclusion to her story. She watched her white coat fade back into butterscotch. “See?”

Convinced by the evidence, Celestia returned the bucket to her bag of holding. “Even when dreamwalking,” she began, gesturing to the letter Twilight had left her nearby, “you remain a creature of fire. Do keep that temper of yours under control.”

Twilight said nothing as Celestia cast a spell to dry the mess she’d made nor while she repaired the burnt pillow and sheets. When she added a little warming spell, however, Twilight said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Did Lulu set you off?”

“No,” Twilight said reassuringly. “I was telling her about the Blueblood incident.” In hindsight, that probably hadn’t been a good idea. She knew how she tended to react to that story.

And so did Celestia. “Ooh, did you get to the part where you scream ‘I am magic’ in a fiery rage?”

Twilight cleared her throat, embarrassed, and glanced away. “Uh, no, that was still a ways off.”

“A shame. That’s the best part.” Celestia chuckled, and Twilight chose not to comment. Then her expression softened. “How are you feeling?”

As her body hadn’t screamed in protest at her earlier, Twilight felt confident to say she could walk around as she wished. Indeed, when she experimented, she found she could finally move again with only a little trouble. Her magic still refused to play nice, but attempting a small levitation spell didn’t knock her out. Ultimately, she concluded, “One more night here, I think. Then I’ll be free.”

“Just be careful not to strain yourself,” Celestia said. Her lips parted to continue, but no words came out. Twilight waited patiently until she eventually asked, “How is Luna?”

Twilight didn’t think she’d spent enough time with Luna yet to really know, but she could at least share her first impressions. Although mixed, she expected what positives she could speak of would do Celestia a world of good. “Angry, pent-up, and frustrated, but she seems to be making the best of it. She had entire shelves of books from friends who took the time to transcribe them from reality into the dream world.”

That received an unwarranted indulgent smile with an equally unfair roll of the eyes. It took dedication to faithfully recreate a book hundreds of pages long from memory. If Twilight had the social drive to make friends and they’d given her gifts like that, she would display them prominently in her home as well.

“Please tell me she didn’t steal you away from me with a few books.”

Twilight huffed indignantly.

“And that you did something besides read.”

While she wasn’t sure if she should answer if she was going to face such accusations, Twilight said, “I’ll have you know that we played O&O with her friends. It was fun.” She really couldn’t deny that. “Your sister is a complete nerd.”

The observation put an amused smirk on Celestia’s face.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Takes one to know one.”

Celestia, in her mercy, chose not to poke fun. Instead, she said, “Tell me about Luna’s friends.”

“Well, there’s Ember, of course. She’s angling to become the next Dragon Lord. She’s…interesting. Brash and reckless, but she seems like the kind of friend who will be there at a call to arms. I doubt we’re going to have a problem with the dragons anytime soon, but Equestria can probably expect better relations with them in the future if Luna is around.” And much worse ones, of course, if Twilight had to banish Luna again or if anything else went wrong.

“Unlike Ember, Berry Punch is a total nopony. A local, actually. Luna apparently helped her with her drinking problem. She woke up first, so I didn’t get that good of a read on her.

“Seabreeze is a breezie. I think he’s kind of frustrated with and about his species. I mean, I don’t blame him. The world isn’t really breezie accessible. He has about as much patience for foolishness as I do but puts up with his friends’ antics and sometimes gets sucked into them.”

Twilight paused a moment. “Then there was Autumn.”

Just as surprised as Twilight had been, Celestia said, “Autumn Blaze? The kirin?”

“Yeah. What are the chances?” Even after some time to consider it, Twilight thought Luna genuinely hadn’t known about their relation or even acquaintance. “Those four are the only people I met, but they seem nice and get on well with Luna.”

Smiling softly, Celestia said, “Tell me about the O&O game you played.”

Twilight felt she should rather tell Celestia that she had more important things to do than listen to tabletop tales, but one look at those longing eyes put paid to any chance of that happening. This would be the first real story of her sister she’d had in nearly a thousand years, after all.

“All right, well, I joined up with the party right after they’d gotten into a bar fight…”





It was near noon the next day when Twilight finally managed to convince her caretakers to allow her to check out against medical advice. In this instance, and partially because she’d withheld information, she was more qualified to judge her own health. Her body felt fine. Her magic responded to her command. She was ready to get back to work. She’d have to take some time later to test if her experiment had been a success, but she’d already lost four days. Even if Celestia made the solstice wait for her, time itself waited for nopony; Luna’s banishment would still run its course.

After she recast her subspace storage, Twilight set about putting her things back into it. Sweetie Belle had, in fact, managed to obtain every last piece of paper, parchment, and even all the loose note cards she generated from day to day with her magic. She’d have to ask her possible protégé to retrieve them for her soon.

As she neared the end of her packing, she checked off the last of the items she kept in her bag of holding – all of them except for two of the Elements of Harmony. Kindness and Generosity were missing. Twilight was, in all honesty, a little peeved. She’d been twice as productive as a lump on a bed than she had been while actively searching for bearers. Sure, she could try to defend herself, saying that she was looking for ponies she could get along with, but she knew how that approach had turned out.

Then again, perhaps Pinkie Pie took them to work on the mission. As that was a little less embarrassing, Twilight chose to believe that until confronted with evidence to the contrary.

On the way out, the hospital staff supplied a full list of everypony they knew of who’d been in Twilight’s ward upon request. If she needed to hunt down the Elements, she’d start with that list. If that failed, then in the worst case scenario, she’d just go to the Old Castle and use Magic to summon them back to her. Then she could run a cutie mark search through the EIS to find out who’d bonded with them. If they weren’t still inert spheres, that was.

Twilight took her first breath of fresh air in days as she stepped out the hospital’s front doors. Ponyville had changed a lot over the few days she’d been out. Construction for the festival proceeded apace as the solstice drew ever nearer. She briefly wondered what the village would look like both when the millennial Summer Sun Celebration went into full swing and after it’d ended. It was sure to leave it’s mark.

All right, what do I need to do first?

There were four people who required interviewing, three whose locations Twilight knew offhoof, but that would keep. Luna’s friends weren’t going anywhere, and no matter what they told her, it wouldn’t really change her own course of action. If Celestia wanted information sooner, something Twilight doubted she had the interest to pursue, she could do so herself.

I could track down the missing Elements. That was important. If they’d obtained bearers, Twilight would need to introduce herself.

There were the documents Sweetie Belle had in her possession. Less important, but quickly done and perhaps higher priority.

Index needed to be seen up, about, and actually doing her job. It was practically of no importance, but Twilight knew she should probably get updates on how the festival was going and see if Ponyville needed any assistance. She hadn’t exactly left an alternative point of contact with the crown when she put herself in the hospital.

Then there was the request Twilight had made of Rarity. She could actually combine that with verifying her experiment’s success. Making thaumic thread was magically taxing and would thus be a good stress test for her. She knew exactly how much magic she was supposed to have. If all had gone well, she should have more now.

Lastly, there was the matter of Sunset Shimmer.

Twilight sighed. She knew what she should do first lest she make excuses to put it off. Finding a shady spot, she dropped her disguise, prepared for what would hopefully not turn into a combat mission, and teleported away.
> Chapter Ten - The Great and Powerful
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a hard limit no matter how one looked at it, no matter what games one played. There was nothing more to be done. Not without a live research subject.





The massive structure of Gladmane Resort towered in front of Twilight in the heart of Las Pegasus. As she made her way inside, disguised as a nondescript purple unicorn with a changeling at her side guiding her to her destination, she felt a mild tingle in her magic when the resort’s lesser wards descended upon her. They were meant to prevent cheating, theft, and identity fraud, but they could only stop the more run-of-the-mill criminal. She walked through them unfazed, and she knew Sunset Shimmer would barely bother to notice their presence.

It took but minutes to find Sunset on the casino floor. The mare currently had the figure of a model fit to rival even Fleur de Lis, who much of Equestria considered the pinnacle of feminine beauty amongst mortal ponies. She was rather shamelessly schmoozing with the owner of the resort, Gladmane himself, at a craps table with the kind of vapid fawning that made stallions drop their guard around pretty mares for reasons Twilight would never understand. It was kind of impressive, in a way, a feat Twilight knew she’d never be able to replicate. Over the years she’d spent covering for the mare, she’d found Sunset had a real gift for wrapping ponies around her hoof and bending them to her will. It was a darker brand of manipulation than the style Celestia employed, but it remained equally effective nonetheless.

Twilight was half tempted to sit back and watch Sunset work, but she had a lot to do today. Thus she bid goodbye to her guide and approached the table. The crowd was thick enough that she had to push her way forward to get close enough to be heard without using a little magic that the casino might frown heavily upon. It would ruin the clandestine nature of this visit if she had to deal with security.

Sunset, on the other hoof, noticed immediately when Twilight approached. Their eyes met for the first time in over twenty years. Sunset showed no signs of recognition, but she offered an acknowledging nod to a peer in the magical arts. When Twilight jerked her head to the side, a silent request to speak in private, Sunset sunk into thought for a few seconds. The crowd around her erupted into cheers over the latest roll of the dice without her. Perhaps that, to explain her sudden growth of a brain capable of thought as much as anything else, resulted in her excusing herself for a visit to the powder room.

After a few moment’s to not make their departure together too obvious, Twilight left to follow after Sunset at a distance. A quick slip inside a bathroom allowed the latter to change her appearance to a much more subtle and fit look. With that done, Twilight converged with her path and fell into step beside her.

“If we’re going to fight, we should take this outside the city,” were the first words out of Sunset’s mouth.

“I sincerely hope it doesn’t come to that,” Twilight replied in full honesty. “But perhaps somewhere we can discuss sensitive matters?”

Without hesitation, Sunset replied, “I don’t take clients.”

“And I’m not asking. I just want to talk.”

“About what?” Sunset shot right back.

While there was some small chance Sunset had stolen Luna’s crown on her behalf, Twilight doubted it. Sunset had authority issues. And she had, after all, just declared that she didn’t take clients. Thus Twilight replied, “The alicorn you stole from.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” If Twilight didn’t know better, she would have believed Sunset. “Only fools and the desperate steal from Celestia.”

“Not her. The other one.”

Sunset paused in her stride. Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “All right. I know a place. Follow me.”

The pair walked through a series of enclosed walkways between casinos in silence, Sunset leading the way. A tram system ran throughout the city, and as it turned out, she took them to one of its stations. It had no wards active over it and almost nopony present. There was a shuttered concession stand on the platform, fully enclosed by walls. She casually picked the lock on the door as she walked toward it, pretended to insert a key once they arrived, and then entered with Twilight right behind her.

Privacy wards went up immediately, and Sunset demanded, “Who sent you?” without missing a beat.

“It’s nice to see you again, too, Eventide.” Twilight wasn’t able to keep the sarcasm entirely out of her voice.

“Who?”

“Twenty-three years ago,” Twilight prompted. “The Summer Sun Celebration in Canterlot. You were probably lying low after stealing something. Remember me? The little lost filly?”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. She snorted. “Twilight Sparkle. It took you long enough to find me. Sunbutt must have let her standards slip after I left.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. Slowly so as not to provoke Sunset, she pulled out a small pile of evidence from her bag of holding and tossed it onto the counter nearby. “That’s everything the EIS never found that would connect you with the legendary lady thief, Eclipse.”

With no small amount of caution, Sunset moved to inspect the pile. As Twilight had documented everything before putting it into storage, she didn’t have to offer any explanations. It didn’t take long before skepticism turned into self-recrimination for carelessness. Rather unsurprisingly, Sunset chose to destroy the entire collection. Not that it mattered. None of it would have ever seen the light of day.

“Fine. I take back what I said. Now what’s your game?”

“Look,” Twilight began, a little frustrated. She’d known getting Sunset to actually talk to her wouldn’t be easy, but was the hostility absolutely necessary? She thought not. “I know you must not like me anymore and that, well, I’m sort of law enforcement, but can we just… I’m perfectly content to let you run around stealing from rich scum the law can’t prosecute. I only need Luna’s crown back. Her banishment is ending soon, so, you know…”

Sunset wore a distinctly unimpressed look upon her face. “Nightmare Moon doesn’t deserve a crown.”

“Okay, point of order. She’s identifying as Luna right now.” That probably hadn’t helped as much as Twilight had thought it would in her head. “Anyway, I made a deal with her–”

A warning shot fired from Sunset’s horn, sizzling past Twilight’s ear. “You’re plotting against Celestia?”

“No! She–” Twilight couldn’t honestly say she’d told Celestia about the bargain she’d struck with Luna, because that would inevitably involve lying to avoid spilling all of her secrets before she was ready, and she wasn’t nearly good enough at that to fool Celestia of all ponies. “Can I just explain the whole situation without you ready to blast me at a single wrong word?”

After a second or two, the glow of power at the tip of Sunset’s horn dimmed and faded away entirely. “You’d better not try to lie to me.”

Twilight gave the abridged version of the story to Sunset. She certainly didn’t need to know everything, but she obviously knew enough already that Twilight didn’t mind filling in the blanks to get her on the same page. When pressed on the details of her agreement with Luna, Twilight merely summarized it as preventing the worst case scenario and ensuring Celestia would have a lifeline if she failed to defeat Luna.

“A friendship laser,” Sunset muttered to herself. She scoffed. “No wonder Sunbutt was always going on about making friends.”

Amused at the reaction, Twilight asked, “Not for you?”

“Hmph. I have better things to be doing.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” Although that did bring up a more serious question. “What are you doing? I mean, the lady thief shtick is sure to get at least a few books, but what’s your endgame? Fame and fortune? Spiting Celestia?”

Sunset considered Twilight with a measuring look. “Eh, why not? You going to keep helping me from the shadows even if I tell you to get lost?”

“Probably,” Twilight admitted.

There again was that calculating look from sharp eyes and a sharper mind that missed nothing. “Why?”

“Gratitude, I suppose.” It was hard to sum up exactly what she felt for her first mentor. Gratitude. Admiration. Disappointment. Loss. Renewed respect. Relief to know she had a peer. Maybe even a hint of infatuation once. “I know you probably don’t want to hear it, but you changed my life forever. Meeting you set me on the path that led me to where I am today. The words you shared with me ultimately gave me my son. Your fallout with Celestia forced her to reflect on her behavior and adopt a drastically different approach with me. It certainly doesn’t hurt that you’re performing invaluable services for the crown even if they’re for personal benefit and not strictly speaking legal.”

Sunset’s face was a mask of stone paired with an icy glare lurking just beneath the surface.

“You asked,” Twilight said rather weakly in her own defense. None of that had been by any means untrue nor delivered with any malice, but she probably couldn’t have rubbed salt in the wound any harder if she’d tried. “I… I won’t pretend I can fix everything or…whatever, but I can mediate between you and Celestia.” That didn’t seem to help one bit. Shoulders slumped, she added, “The offer is there if you ever want it.”

“My relationship with her is none of your business.”

“Right…” sighed Twilight in resignation. She’d always nursed the unlikely hope to have Sunset return to the castle. Celestia was great, but it would be nice to have another mind around with whom she could really talk magic. But as she’d always known, that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon, if ever.

Despite her now dark mood, however, Sunset chose to answer the question Twilight had originally posed. “The Crystal Empire will return in a few years. I’m going to boot the usurper king who led them to ruin off his throne and take it for myself. The wealth I’m accumulating I intend to inject into its economy to get the place up and running again.”

The longer Twilight considered it, the more she thought it wasn’t actually that bad of a plan. Since Celestia had suggested giving the throne to Cadance, she figured as far as the empire was concerned, their royal line was either dead or, at best, so far removed from their culture and traditions as to lack legitimacy. But a hero empress? One who’d expended her own vast wealth to restore the empire? That would easily lend itself to a new social contract.

“You know, Cadance’s line are the legitimate heirs,” Twilight said without a hint of reprimand.

Sunset snorted and rolled her eyes. “Little Cadey isn’t going to challenge me for the throne even if she wanted it. She’s long since put down roots here.” A rather bitter and muttered, “With your family,” followed.

Even Twilight knew when not to step on explosive runes. She swiftly said, “No, but her parents probably will.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what I have you for. Keep them from barking too loudly, and they won’t have to find out how hard I bite.” Sunset chuckled rather darkly. “Unless Cadance wants me to. I have been meaning to rob them blind now that she isn’t dependent on them. I could always take it a little further.”

“Uh, I’m sure Cadance appreciates the sentiment, but…”

“Yeah, I know.” Sunset muttered something too quiet to hear. “I need to get back to Gladmane before he starts wondering what I’m up to. He’s at the center of a massive financial scheme, if you’re wondering. Real class act. Nothing strictly illegal, but well deserving of his fate. It should come crumbling down after I empty his coffers.”

“Good to know. And Luna’s crown?”

Sunset pursed her lips. If it had been anything else, any less a prize or any less something to hold over Celestia, perhaps she wouldn’t have been so reluctant to part with it. But then Twilight wouldn’t be asking to begin with.

“You can have the useless thing back,” Sunset finally said. “I’ll retrieve it after I deal with Gladmane and stop by…Ponyville, was it? Maybe we can talk magic or something then.”

Without even a goodbye, much less waiting for a response, Sunset teleported away and took her leave. That hadn’t been a real offer of friendship, Twilight knew. Sunset still understandably hated her for what she represented and probably intended to use her for all she was worth, but she would take the gesture for what it purported to be for now. Maybe someday when Sunset was in a better place emotionally, things would change.

After taking down the privacy wards and locking the door, Twilight, too, teleported away, leaving behind no evidence that either of them had ever been there.





Without fanfare, Twilight appeared in the middle of Ponyville for the first time as herself. She’d just returned from the Peaks of Peril – a relatively minor detour on her way back – where she’d joined Autumn for a late lunch. It hadn’t been at all difficult to nudge Autumn into talking about Luna, although she hadn’t really had anything important to share beyond the names of a few more ponies she’d met in her dreams.

Now it was time to pay Berry Punch a visit and hear her story if she was willing to tell it. Twilight just had to find out where she was without any means of tracking her. Pinkie Pie probably knew and would be much easier to locate, but Twilight really didn’t need a tag along or the trouble of asking her to leave.

Nopony noticed Twilight as she set out, a state of affairs that lasted for about three seconds. There was no shortage of stray ponies wandering around who’d since taken notice of the new face in town. She recognized a few from Pinkie Pie’s rapid fire introductions during her welcome to Ponyville party while all of them recognized her. The hushed whispers between ponies who thought themselves out of earshot, not counting on Twilight’s enhanced hearing, grew in number. As knowledge of her presence swept through the streets, ponies parted before her like she had the plague and feigned disinterest in the least convincing manner possible.

For the first time in her life, Twilight chose to actively listen in on the inane buzz of conversation in the background. Even with Pinkie Pie correcting a misconception she had about the populace, the rumors and pointless nonsense generated from so little information still surprised her.

“See, it is her. Just look at the cutie mark.”

“What’s she doing in Ponyville?”

“Dear Celestia, my brother is going to just die when he hears.”

“Maybe she’s here to find a lover away from Canterlot politics. It could even be me.”

“Do you think we can talk to her?”

“I thought she’d be taller. You know, like the princess.”

“I hear it’s a secret rendezvous.”

“She doesn’t sign autographs. I remember that very distinctly from the last Summer Sun Celebration.”

“She’s here for a tryst? Does Princess Celestia know?”

“That’s what I heard too.”

“Maybe they have one of those…arrangements.”

“There might be room for one more.”

More and more ponies gathered at the periphery as the news spread, all too timid, or nervous, or scared, or something to approach. While that suited Twilight just fine for her purpose, she still facehoofed at the narrative the gossip seemed intent on converging toward.

Why is it that I’m supposedly having a secret love affair while two-timing Celestia, a relationship I also haven’t made public? Honestly! If I were here for a tryst behind an alicorn’s back, I should think it utterly obvious that nopony would ever know I was here.

Shaking her head, Twilight eyed the crowd and then singled out a random earth pony with a point of her hoof before gesturing for him to approach. It seemed the easiest way to actually ask for directions. After he questioningly pointed at himself, he drew near with a mix of concern and possibly excitement, if she were reading him right.

“What can I do for you, Archmage Twilight Sparkle, Your Excellency, Ma’am?”

“I appear to be lost. I’m looking for Berry Punch. Could you give me directions?”





“Rarity! Sweetie Belle! Quit all your froufrou nonsense and get down here already!” called Applejack from the first floor of the Carousel Boutique.

Upstairs in her room, Sweetie Belle was rearranging her favorite saddlebags, the ones with her idol’s cutie mark stitched into the sides. Rarity had made them for her as a birthday present a few years ago, and they’d seen more than their fair share of wear since. At the moment, they contained the sphere she’d borrowed from Index with, she swore, complete intention to return. Also in the bags were a few loose bits, several medical implements in case of intense crusading, two decks of playing cards, and a small selection of assorted sweets. Unfortunately, no matter how she rearranged the contents, she couldn’t find a way to make it any less obvious that she had a big, bulky sphere in her saddlebags.

With a sigh, Sweetie Belle gave up. She just had to accept her current arrangement. Thus she left her room behind and headed downstairs, her saddlebags draped across her back. There she found Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash waiting in various stages of impatience. They were to see one of the more popular entertainers who’d arrived in town early today, and the sneak peek performance started soon.

“Finally!” Rainbow Dash said. “What kept you?”

“I was just packing my bags.”

“What do you need saddlebags for?” Rainbow Dash asked, no less exasperated for the explanation. The two other Crusaders eyed the spherical bulge and looked at each other, sending some silent message between them. “We’re just going to town square to see a show.”

“Well…” Sweetie Belle began, trying to hide her unease as she fumbled for an excuse. “You never know what could happen with us around.”

“You can say that again, sugarcube. Now what’s keeping Rarity?”

Rarity picked that exact moment to appear. “Oh, be patient, you two,” she said as she walked down the stairs. “Just because you choose to look like a country bumpkin doesn’t mean that the rest of us must as well. There is always time to be fashionably late.”

Sweetie Belle turned around to look at her sister. Despite all of the lessons Rarity had drilled into her, beyond the sun hat, she still couldn’t see the difference between Rarity’s current appearance and her usual one – if there was any. The only real change Sweetie Belle had noticed in her sister lately hadn’t been physical at all. After returning from Sweet Apple Acres, Rarity had practically shaken her down for Spike and Flurry’s letter, but once she’d read it, Rarity hadn’t pressed for details, stuck her nose in where it wasn’t wanted, or even commented. It’d been so unlike her, but Sweetie Belle had decided not to risk her escape by pursuing the matter further.

“Well, now that we’re finally all here,” Applejack deadpanned, “let’s get going.”

With impatient assent from the other three non-unicorns, the group of six exited the store and headed out into the outer edge of Ponyville’s commercial district. As usual for this part of town, it being filled with specialty shops, the streets were relatively quiet. Besides the shop owners and those just passing through, only a few ponies would make their way here on any given day when in need. However, as they entered into Ponyville proper, the distinct lack of ponies became troubling.

“All right, something is going on here. I’ll be hog tied and dipped in butter before that Trixie pony draws the entire town to her show.”

Rainbow Dash shot skyward at Applejack’s words leaving only an, “I’ll see what’s up,” behind her.

“I reckon it’s about time we had another disaster,” Applejack mumbled. She watched Rainbow Dash fly off toward the opposite side of town for a few seconds before eying the Crusaders. “There was your last tree sap incident, I suppose, but it’s been a couple weeks since our last infestation or monster attack.”

“Oh, those parasprites were simply dreadful.”

“And so were them vampire fruit bats in my orchard before that,” Applejack added.

Scootaloo chimed in with, “And the ursa minor.”

“Not to mention the dragon,” Apple Bloom added.

Not wanting to be left out, Sweetie Belle said, “Or that incident with Zecora.”

The two adults in their group cringed.

“Right…” Applejack said uneasily. “The point is, we’re due for something soon.”

A rainbow blur slammed onto the ground and kicked up a cloud of dust. This was, of course, nothing unusual, so nopony reacted beyond a brief welcome back for the last member of their group and an inquiry as to what was going on.

“Well, it doesn’t look like trouble,” Rainbow Dash replied. “There’s the crowd waiting for the show, and then there’s another one across town outside Berry Punch’s house.”

Curious, Applejack asked, “Why would anypony be gathering there? Did she dip into her own brew again or something?”

“Doubt it. I couldn’t get a consistent answer out of anypony. Soon as I got one, everypony started shouting over each other with ‘the truth’. My best guess is she’s having a threesome with Minuette and the archmage of all ponies while Berry Pinch watches.”

“Such nonsense,” Rarity mumbled as Applejack said, “Not in front of the foals, Dash!”

Said foals already knew the answer, naturally, as curious children were wont to, but Apple Bloom still asked, “Sis, what’s a threesome?” with far too innocent an expression.

Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle smothered their laughter behind hooves as Applejack shifted her eyes in desperation. Neither Rainbow Dash, who found this equally amusing, nor Rarity came to her rescue. Eventually, she went with, “If you have to ask, you’re not old enough to know.”

While this happened, Rarity mumbled, “Strange. I wonder what she’s doing with Berry Punch.”

Sweetie Belle’s ears perked up. “What do you mean?”

The question attracted Rainbow Dash’s attention. “Huh? You know something about this?”

“Ah… Just a little bit, darling. I’m not sure if Her Excellency would want me to say.”

“Wait, so the archmage is really here in Ponyville?”

Rarity nodded in response to Rainbow Dash’s question. Seeing that, Sweetie Belle bolted off from the rest of the group before anything more could be said.





Although Twilight had already eaten lunch with Autumn, she certainly hadn’t been about to say no to fresh oatmeal cookies. This had been the ideal moment in time to pay a visit to Berry Punch. She might even ask for the recipe on the way out. She might not be much of a cook, but baking was basically chemistry, and Spike’s birthday was coming up in a few moons. Maybe if I added some gemstones to the dough. Hmm…

Berry Punch and her friend – Marefriend? They’re awfully touchy with each other – Minuette sat across the table with Berry Pinch, the former’s unicorn daughter, adjacent to Twilight. She’d subtly scooted her chair closer and closer whenever she reached for another cookie. Twilight had noticed, of course, but hadn’t said anything. Apparently, she was a fan with an adventure streak inherited from her Aunt Cherry Berry.

“You know,” Minuette began, “for the longest time, I thought it was all just a side effect from the withdrawal. I mean, ‘dreaming of a moon goddess’? One nopony had ever heard of, even. Sounds pretty far-fetched.”

Twilight smiled into a bite of her cookie as Berry Punch engaged in what was probably a flirtatious denial. It did sound absurd from that point of view. “Personally,” she said, “I had advance notice of Luna’s existence and basic training in dream magic, and even then I was skeptical. I had to fact check with Celestia before I really believed it was her.”

“Kinda like hearing ‘the archmage’ is in the dining room,” Minuette said.

A frown grew on Twilight’s face as she understood the meaning. “Are impostors of me such a common problem?”

Berry Punch shrugged. “It’s like when you get one of those letters saying Princess Celestia needs your help to settle a new barony.” She paused halfway to a bite of delicious oatmeal. “Er, I suppose they don’t send those sorts of things to you, do they?”

“No, not at all. And besides, that kind of micromanagement isn’t really–”

The front door slammed open a few rooms away. “Berry Pinch!” Then came the pounding sound of little hooves. “Where is she?”

Twilight took the privacy spells she’d erected – she’d drawn far too much attention from nosy ponies not to cast them – down with an inward chuckle. I wonder what took her so long. With the gossip spreading as fast as it was, I expected her a lot sooner.

From Twilight’s side, Berry Pinch giggled and replied, “We’re in the dining room!”

Within seconds, Sweetie Belle thundered into the room, her saddlebags thumping in time to her step against her sides, and locked onto Twilight. It seemed, at first, that she wasn’t entirely prepared for this moment, but then she broke from her timid spell. She pranced in place, saying, “Oh my gosh!” over and over again until she finally mastered her excitement enough to speak words of substance. “I’ve always wanted to meet you! I’m Sweetie Belle, and I’m your number one fan in the whole world and everything beyond it! Was that you at the hospital yesterday? If so, I guess I’ve already met you, but not really met you met you!”

Twilight’s eyebrows rose slightly at the utter lack of poise in Sweetie Belle’s words and her reversion to a more rural accent. Well, Rarity, you tried your best, I guess. The next thing Twilight noticed was her saddlebags. They had Twilight’s starburst on them – which was a little annoying, but she didn’t have her own cutie mark yet, so whatever – and, more importantly, an oddly spherical bulge on one side.

That’s an Element, right? It had to be. Sweetie Belle had even had permission to rummage around in Twilight’s things. But why did she take it if it hasn’t awakened for her? It’s just a rock otherwise with a gem inside it. Strange. A thought occurred. Unless…

“Hello, Sweetie Belle. Sun Wisp wasn’t me in disguise, but I have heard stories about you.” As she said this, Twilight quickly and carefully cast a few illusions, several miscellaneous wards, and conjured a thin, rigid metal shell around the Element of roughly the same weight. At the same time, she teleported the now invisible Element out into the open. A light bump against Sweetie Belle turned it into a necklace much like Honesty. The centerpiece gem had a violet shade and a generic Equestrian cut likely due to its bearer’s lack of a cutie mark.

Twilight sat flabbergasted and howled with laughter inside. She didn’t touch it! She actually didn’t touch it! Days of temptation, and she never once touched it! Just because I told her not to. It took some impressive willpower to resist the call that long. I think I’ll just put this back and watch the fireworks. If Celestia could be a secret prankster, then she could too.

The sudden hesitance Sweetie Belle wore on her face as she tried to find the courage to say or ask something, however, sparked a realization in Twilight.

I just signed up a foal to fight an alicorn, didn’t I? She had. Ponyfeathers. Which Element did she get? Twilight plucked the dropped label from the floor. Double ponyfeathers. Of course it just had to be the most addictive Element.

“Um… I – I have a question. If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Ask away,” Twilight said as she continued silently berating herself.

“How many spells do you know?”

Oh, that’s a tax on the memory. With only one shot to get this right, Twilight thought back to what she’d said to Sweetie Belle when they’d first met. If she remembered correctly, it went something like, “I don’t know. How are you counting spells?”

Seeing Sweetie Belle’s reticent expression bloom into a bright smile, Twilight breathed out a sigh of relief. She’d at least gotten that right. Maybe she could make this mess work. “While you’re here, do you know if your sister will be in her boutique in, say, a half-hour?” They needed to talk.

Clearly confused, Sweetie Belle cocked her head to the side and asked, “My…sister?”

“You are Rarity’s little sister, are you not?”

Now that she’d calmed down a bit, Sweetie Belle’s faux Canterlot accent – still a little grating on the ear for somepony actually from there – snapped back at the reminder of her sister. “Yes, I am. But why do you ask?”

“I commissioned her to make something for me, and I had to leave last we met before she could take my measurements.” Twilight figured she could also take the opportunity to generate some thaumic thread for Rarity to practice with and at the same time verify if she’d succeeded in giving herself a higher magical capacity. “I plan to stop by to address that while I’m in town if she’s available.”

Bringing her jaw – which had nearly detached itself in surprise – back into line with the rest of her face, Sweetie Belle answered, “I-I really don’t know what to say. This will make Rarity’s season – no, year – if not her entire career! She should be…with me…in town square. Oh, ponyfeathers.”

Twilight arched an eyebrow at Sweetie Belle’s sudden change in demeanor. “What’s going on in Ponyville’s town square?”

Berry Punch, who had been watching their interaction with amusement, replied, “One of the showponies for the Summer Sun Celebration is putting on a preview performance. I think her name was Trixie.”

“Trixie?” This is what Twilight got for not paying Amethyst Star a visit for updates on the festival before taking care of other business. “She’s the one act that I actively want to see. When does she start?”

“Probably ten minutes ago.”

Nearly instantly building up the power for a teleport, Twilight disappeared from the table only to return a few seconds later after remembering that she had company. “Do any of you want to come with?”

After a moment’s delay at the abruptness of it all, each pony nodded her assent.





Lights!

Ponyville town square descended into a magical darkness, blotting out the midday sun and blinding everypony in the massive crowd. Slowly, an ominous, blue glow grew from the floor of the stage. The velvet curtains slowly parted to the sides, revealing an inky blackness that seemed to go on forever.

Atmosphere!

From the streets leading to the square where the crowd had gathered, a thick fog rolled in toward the stage. It hung low to the ground, just high enough to be off-putting but not vision-obstructing. When it reached the stage, the blue lighting became hazy and diluted.

Showtime!

From the sky, a flurry of solid colors streaked towards center stage in wide, graceful arcs, collecting into a swirling pack of colorful wisps. The vortex grew into a blinding white light. Then it abruptly died out only for a wave of chilly air to replace it. The fog blew away and curled up upon itself at the edge of a magical boundary, but it’d already begun to slide back into the audience like an avalanche in slow motion.

Once the tension had built in the silence, a burst of brilliant azure fire erupted from the stage. In its wake, a figure could be seen as a hazy outline. Blue against blue, it stepped forward. If one peered closely through the fog, its pointed hat and cape appeared as though a portion of the night sky had been ripped from the heavens and sewn into their form.

“Ponyville!” Trixie’s voice resounded everywhere at the same volume. “You have called, and I have answered. I am. The Great. And Powerful. Trixie!”

The stage spotlights snapped on, centered on their star. The roar of the crowd entirely drowned out the fireworks in the sky that accompanied the introduction. For a moment, Trixie basked in the adulation. This was what she lived for. But better still were cheers properly earned for her displays of magnificence.

Trixie extended an arm. At its invitation, her trusted companion leapt into her grasp. The long staff assembled itself piece by piece from its component parts into its full form. The silver rods that made up its shaft came first. The decorative pedestal at its upper end followed, and then came the magical core of the artifact. Two sapphires, one cut in the shape of a crescent moon and the other a smaller star hovered at the top of the staff, the star inside the moon. It’d been a long, laborious process to redesign the device to mesh with the image she wanted to present to the world, but it’d been worth it.

“Ready at your command.”

With a nod, Trixie slammed the butt of her staff to the stage floor. A short downburst swept out and chased away the fog for good this time. It was time to begin.

“Are you ready to see some magic?”

The crowd roared its approval.

“Magic that will amaze and astound your mere mortal minds?”

The crowd cried ever louder.

“Magic that would shame even the archmage herself?”

The crowd’s cheers reached their peak without magical assistance. Then, as if summoned, Trixie felt a surge of familiar magic at the back of her audience. A group of ponies teleported in, and in their midst stood Twilight Sparkle. A scrying spell gave Trixie a better view. She had two mares and two fillies with her as well as a small pile of cookies on a plate floating nearby. She looked directly at the scrying spell and rolled her hoof in a circle while casually taking another bite of her snack.

“Twilight Sparkle,” Trixie muttered, forgetting that her magic still cast her voice out across the crowd. A buzz of whispers filled the square as ponies glanced around either confused or focusing their attention on the wrong mare. There was nothing for it now but to pretend she’d meant to head down this route. She pointed a spotlight at Twilight Sparkle at the very back of the crowd and demanded, “What are you doing here?”

Although she sighed, Twilight Sparkle answered, “I’m just here to watch your performance. Nothing more.”

Trixie ground her teeth. “I suppose you think I should feel honored by that?”

“No?”

“Do you honestly think I would believe that?” Trixie bit back too quickly. She suppressed her rising irritation as best as she could. Making herself out to be petulant or the bad pony wouldn’t help her act. 

“Yes? I guess you could say I’m a fan.”

Trixie scoffed. “As if! You never gave me so much as the time of day.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You don’t even remember?”

Twilight Sparkle paused a few moments to think, but then she shook her head. “Can we just get back to you blowing things up?”

“That’s what you remember about me?” Trixie slammed her staff to her stage and growled in frustration. “I challenge you to a duel!”

As she facehoofed, Twilight Sparkle asked, “Are you serious?”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie never backs down from a challenge.”

Twilight Sparkle let out a long sigh. “Fine.” After passing off her cookies to one of the unicorns with her, she teleported up onto the stage but remained a fair distance away. “If we’re going to do this, we need a few rules beyond the standard dueling set.”

“If you intend to give me a handicap–”

“No, that’s not it,” Twilight Sparkle interrupted. She gestured out to the audience with a hoof. “We have an unprotected civilian crowd not ten feet from us. If we start slinging serious magic, somepony is going to get hurt.”

Trixie cringed at her careless misstep. Breaking Twilight Sparkle was all well and good, but hurting her beloved fans was another thing entirely. “You have a point. Name your terms.”

“Other than the standard dueling missile, first year spells only.”

“Do you even know what those are?” Trixie snapped in return.

A long-suffering sigh escaped Twilight Sparkle. “Unfortunately, yes. I know the curriculum well enough to lecture at the school.”

Trixie paid the answer little mind as she considered the offer. It was a good deal for her. There was a disproportionate number of illusion spells in the first year curriculum, which happened to be a specialty of hers. “Fine. Any other restrictions?”

“We dismiss any enchantments we have active other than subspace storage.” Twilight Sparkle eyed Trixie’s staff warily. “And you put that away, whatever it is.”

Trixie squeezed her arm around her faithful companion a little tighter. It’d been years since she’d gotten into a real fight and even longer still since she’d fought without the Night Guardian Staff at her side.

“You can do it.”

Of course I can. I’m the Great and Powerful Trixie. With those words of reassurance echoing in her mind, Trixie levitated her staff backstage and began dispelling the enchantments she wore to make life more convenient. “Anything else?” she asked as she stripped herself of her hat and cloak as well.

“No brute force counters. From how much power you’ve been throwing around, if we allow them, this will quickly descend into a brawl.”

“Good point,” Trixie said with a smirk. Flattery would get a pony anywhere.

“And no telekinesis either,” Twilight Sparkle added. And now she smirked. “Unless you want me to sever your spinal cord and shatter your bones right from the word go?”

“You arrogant little–”

“Look, Trixie, I’m giving you a chance to win here. Now are we going to put on a show, or do you want to lose your audience?”

Twilight Sparkle had invoked the magic words. In answer, Trixie summoned a bit from backstage and held it aloft between them. “First to three. Start when this hits the floor.” She waited only long enough for a nod and then tossed the coin into the air.

With a quiet thump, the coin struck the stage floor.

Trixie wasted no time and fired off a pair of dueling strike spells with an illusion of thousands more, all converging on her enemy. When the light died down, she was disappointed but not surprised to find that neither of the ones that mattered had found their mark while the rest had gone ignored. Looking closer, she saw a thin, shimmering dome that looked much like a weak basic shield around Twilight Sparkle.

“You cheater!”

“Oh please, Trixie. I don’t cheat.” A downright evil smirk emerged on Twilight Sparkle’s face. “But neither do I play fair. Watch and learn.”

A bone chilling wind swept over the stage, swirling into an ever more frigid vortex. Trixie shivered and cast an illusion in front of her eyes to hide anything – currently her mane – that impaired her vision. Near Twilight Sparkle, tens of thousands of little shards of ice condensed in the air before being swept up into the wind.

She’s making hail with the pressure drop from a breeze spell? That’s absurd! Too absurd, in fact, to be truth. No, it must be an application of the cooling charm. The breeze is just overpowered to control the ice without telekinesis. It was a disgustingly difficult feat of magic, a stark reminder that this was the Archmage of Equestria on the stage.

Trixie stared down her opponent, waiting to counter an attack that never came. She narrowed her eyes. What’s she waiting for? As the two watched the other in the sharp, bitterly cold wind for the slightest of movements, a thought occurred. Perhaps she can only make a defensive form? In that case…

Trixie sent off another barrage of fake and real spells. This time, she added a supercharged heating spell to precede every real attack to pierce through the ice. The vortex of hail managed to whack all but one of the real attacks away, resulting in hissing bursts of steam, while Twilight Sparkle dodged the final one with a quick sidestep.

Then, with a quick flash of her horn, Twilight Sparkle sent off three strike spells of her own that lazily arced towards Trixie. Intending to easily dodge, Trixie tried to jump back but found her hooves frozen to the stage. Fortunately, she fell downward and accidentally ducked under two of the three spells.

Rapidly thawing out her hooves as a second volley came, Trixie jumped backward only to bump up against a wall of ice. She swore under her breath in response, summoned a large volume of water, and then froze it immediately to block all of Twilight Sparkle’s attacks. She thought to reach for it with telekinesis before checking herself. Meanwhile, gravity took hold and slammed the boulder-sized chunk of ice down onto the stage, sending shrapnel flying everywhere. She immediately lit her horn to prevent the audience from getting hit, but a strong downburst knocked the stray wood to the ground before she could. To further upstage her, Trixie felt the sting of another strike spell, one Twilight Sparkle had fired blindly over the ice between them. Dozens more impacted around her. And more were coming.

In a rush, Trixie melted a small cavern inside the ice and sealed the entrance behind her before she suffered another hit. She next carved a thin slit of ice in the direction she thought her opponent would be, all the while cloaking her work in an illusion. This time luck proved to be on her side. She fired off her own volley of spells and managed to hit with one of them. The yelp she got in return ignited a fire inside her.

Trixie melted her way back out into Twilight Sparkle’s freezing wind. As she galloped out into the open, nine other duplicates of her emerged. They shivered in time with the real one, mimicking every action a real pony would take. The group rushed to take flanking positions.

In response, Twilight Sparkled flooded the stage with a massive water conjuration, sweeping away both herself and each of the Trixies, real and illusionary.

As if you could fool my illusions with a cheap trick like – oh ponyfeathers!

Twilight Sparkle lobbed a few hundred compressed chunks of dirt she’d collected from outside the stage into the general area of the Trixies. Those would hurt.

Finding it difficult to run against the wind, Trixie opted to call forth a large amount of earth herself and shelter beneath a protective shell of it. Within a fraction of a second, several heavy thuds came from outside. She reinforced the barrier with her magic, and it held firm.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Trixie compressed her earthen shield into tiny, dense balls and fired them at just below piercing velocity in every direction that wouldn’t head into the crowd. She heard a satisfying eep, even if it didn’t count as a point, from behind her and to the right, thus she spun and fired off a pair of strike spells at Twilight Sparkle. One struck true.

And in return, a boulder fell from above. Trixie sluggishly dodged it with a nervous laugh she hoped nopony heard. But she couldn’t stand still now that her opponent had warmed up, figuratively speaking. She broke into a gallop but slipped only moments later. The entire stage, to her surprise, was covered in a sheet of ice.

Trixie rolled out of the way of a strike spell just in time and scrambled back to her hooves. Not nearly far enough away, Twilight Sparkle slid across the ice at a pace much too fast and with far too much control for the low coefficient of friction. From the way her mane moved, it looked like she was using the wind to push herself along.

The duelists locked eyes for a moment before Twilight Sparkle fired off another shot.

Surprised by her lack of energy, Trixie shaped some of the nearby earth into a shield to block while she struggled to move properly. Yet as she fumbled in place, Twilight Sparkle circled around her shield in a gentle curve, still sliding along with the wind.

This time when Trixie went to shape earth to block, she found herself contesting Twilight Sparkle’s magic directly for control of it. She made the lucky decision to forgo the contest entirely and fell to her barrel, dodging what would have been a victory blow.

Unfortunately, with her legs spread-eagle from her fall, when Trixie tried to get back to her hooves, she found she just didn’t have the strength. She felt numb. Even her horn had grown dull and less responsive than it should. Only now did she noticed how strained her own breath had become.

Twilight Sparkle came to a halt directly in front of Trixie. She cleared away the rubble between them and the audience with a predatory smile, all the better to humiliate her fallen foe. “Oh dear. What have we here? Honestly, I thought you would notice what I was up to.”

Her teeth chattering, Trixie asked, “W-w-what a-are y-you t-t-talking ab-bout?”

“Cold, Trixie, is the silent killer.”

With that taunt, Twilight Sparkle lazily fired off her last strike spell and hit Trixie right between the eyes. Her victory complete, she then canceled all of the ongoing magical effects on the stage, replaced the earth they had used, and repaired the damage they’d caused. Next, she turned her attention elsewhere. Probably to herself, but Trixie couldn’t tell at the moment as she’d let her head hit the ground.

I lost. I lost on my own stage. Trixie grit her teeth. To Twilight Sparkle of all ponies!

All the while, the crowd stood in awed silence, staring in wonder up at their archmage even after the over-the-top duel had ended.

Dammit! Trixie fought against the tears threatening to ruin everything twice over. Always second best.

After Twilight Sparkle finished healing both of them and cast a few spells to give Trixie the energy and warmth to function properly, she pulled Trixie up onto her hooves. It was only then that the cheers and whistling began. Cries of, “Encore,” and, “Bravo,” came continuously along with shouts of both their names.

It didn’t matter. Trixie still lost. She was about to teleport away when Twilight Sparkle put a hoof on her shoulder. Privately, just between them without any spells amplifying their voices, Twilight Sparkle said, “It’s your show, Trixie. Instead of running away to pout, why not take a bow? Somepony has to.” As Twilight Sparkle built up the power for her own teleport, she added, “Thanks for the good fight.”

Twilight Sparkle disappeared without leaving behind a teleport signature as was to be expected of one of her station. That left Trixie alone on stage. She turned to look out at the still cheering crowd. As far as she could tell, they’d not lost any enthusiasm despite the archmage’s departure.

I still lost.

Trixie stared blankly out at the crowd for a few moments longer. Then, horribly awkwardly, she did the only thing that came to mind: she took a bow.





Reclined on the chaise lounge she’d conjured outside of Rarity’s boutique, Twilight contemplated the duel she’d just fought. It’d been a good way to get back on her hooves after a long stay at the hospital. She’d made some unintentional errors putting on a show with Trixie and had paid once or twice for underestimating her opponent, but all in all, she’d enjoyed herself. It almost made her regret apparently ignoring Trixie to the point of forgetting whatever encounters they’d had with one another, especially when she’d at least given Moon Dancer the time of day.

Oh well. No changing the past. Thoughts of Pinkie Pie popped into her head. Well, probably not.

Off in the distance, Twilight heard Sweetie Belle impatiently say, “See? I told you she would be here.”

“Yes, dear, you did,” Rarity replied with some exhaustion seeping into her voice. “Now do try to behave yourself this time.”

Twilight saw no need to rush, so she waited patiently for the pair to arrive and chose to continue basking in the sun with eyes closed. That soon came to an end, however, as an excited Sweetie Belle approached and immediately launched into an only slightly exaggerated recounting of her duel with Trixie.

Rarity eventually managed to settle Sweetie Belle down and then turned her attention onto Twilight. “Good afternoon, Your Excellency. What can we do for you today?”

“Well, for one, it’s still just Twilight unless we’re in a formal setting. I have a feeling we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other in the future.”

“Oh?” Rarity said. There was surprise in her voice but not of an unwelcome variety. Sweetie Belle’s reaction, of course, didn’t need description. “Why don’t you come inside? We can talk there.”

After dispelling the chair she’d made for herself, Twilight followed the sisters inside. Rarity’s store and home, the Carousel Boutique, had a circular design. The entire ground floor was dedicated to displays, changing rooms, racks of dresses, mirrors, and all the other public functions of her business. A set of stairs at the back led up the her private residence and workroom. As they did genuinely need to take Twilight’s measurements, they remained downstairs for the time being.

Rarity, as she gathered the things she would require, said, “Sweetie Belle, could you leave us alone for the moment?” It wasn’t a request, and the look of betrayal Sweetie Belle had on her face let everypony know she knew it. “You can come back down later if you want. Assuming Her – er, Twilight here doesn’t mind.”

“I do need to have a private conversation with your sister,” Twilight said. She gave Sweetie Belle a reassuring look. “We can chat before I leave, I promise.”

That was enough to get Twilight and Rarity some alone time, although Sweetie Belle still stopped to look back every other step of the way upstairs as though she thought Twilight would disappear if left unobserved. And to be perfectly fair, if she were any other foal, Twilight knew herself well enough to know she wouldn’t care to linger once her business was finished.

Then mostly because who knew what divination spells Sweetie Belle knew to eavesdrop with, Twilight set up the usual collection of privacy spells to prevent just that. She would be discussing sensitive information that needed protection anyway, of course, but the primary source of worry was a precocious foal only one story up.

Now that they were alone, Rarity began the measuring process and tried not to channel too much of Sweetie Belle’s energy as Twilight began the process of making thaumic thread from scratch. It wasn’t that difficult, really, when one had a lot of magical power and control. She showed Rarity with only a little hesitance how to form solidified magic, dissolve it into fibers, and then spin it into thread without causing it to explode or produce another random spell effect.

“If anything goes wrong when you try this yourself,” Twilight said, knowing Rarity wouldn’t be able to help herself, “have Sweetie Belle summon me immediately. And make sure she’s around and paying enough attention to actually do so if you can’t ask her yourself.”

Rarity readily promised to take such basic cautionary measures. She then adopted a mysterious, knowing smile. “So she has your” – she faltered for a moment, looking for the right term before defaulting – “mailing address as well, does she? I knew she had your son’s, but your personal one? Is there any special meaning I should take from that?”

“Not exactly. I needed her to practice the flame sending spell, and I was in the same room. But the situation has developed since. I’m going to need to have that talk with your parents sooner than expected.”

“Oh dear,” Rarity mumbled. “That doesn’t sound good. Has Sweetie Belle done something?”

“Well…yes but no. It’s my fault, really.”

From upstairs came a high-pitched shriek, or was it a wail of despair? Rarity had already bolted toward the stairs when Twilight called for her to stop.

“But–” Rarity tried to protest.

“She’s fine,” Twilight said. She’d even scryed the upper floors just to be sure. “And she definitely doesn’t want company right now.”

Hesitantly, Rarity stepped away from the stairs. “Why not?” she asked as she returned to the platform she’d had Twilight climb for measurements.

“I…may have played a little prank on her when she barged in on my afternoon tea with Berry Punch. She just discovered it.”

Rarity directed a stern look at Twilight, one she no doubt used to great effect on her sister.

“Yeah, I know. I feel bad enough about it already. It has…complications.” And they were on a level infinitely removed from good taste.

“Nothing…permanent, I hope.”

Even if Twilight kept Sweetie Belle out of the conflict with Luna and Luna never bothered her, there would still be mixed consequences. Generosity wasn’t, strictly speaking, bad, but according to Celestia, it was addictive and took a lot of getting used to before the bearer could tolerate even small crowds while wearing it.

“Do you happen to know any languages Sweetie Belle doesn’t?”

“A couple, yes.” Rarity’s voice had a sharp edge to it that let Twilight know she’d not been distracted.

“I highly recommend that you make a habit of thinking in one of them around Sweetie Belle from now on.” Twilight, in fact, had already switched over to Old Ponish. It was probably for the best she make more regular use of it, anyway. Luna had a bad habit of slipping into the language when speaking of the distant past. At any rate, it was time to deliver the first bit of news. “She just found herself in possession of a necklace that grants her involuntary telepathy in a radius when worn.”

The tape measure around Twilight’s barrel went a bit past snug.

“The Crusaders have a mind reading necklace? I – you – do you understand how disastrous that is?”

In the larger picture, that had little relevance, but Twilight did understand Rarity’s distress. “If it makes you feel any better, it only works for Sweetie Belle now that she’s bonded to it.” And rather remarkably, she still hadn’t put it on yet, too busy fretting over what she was going to tell Index, no doubt.

“That…helps, darling.” The weakness in Rarity’s voice didn’t really agree with her words. “But why did you give it to her?”

“I didn’t. While I was sleeping in the hospital” – and by this point Twilight felt sure that her experiment had succeeded and her long stay there had been worth it – “she took it from me.”

Shocked, Rarity’s magic failed her. Her tape measure, notes, and pen fell to the ground in a clatter. Then she recovered her voice. “Sweetie Belle stole from you? Oh, dear Celestia, I apologize for–”

Twilight held up a hoof to forestall the oncoming grovelling. “The artifact itself draws suitable bearers to it. The call is very difficult to resist. And I asked a favor of her that put her into its proximity. As I said before, this is my fault. I’m honestly surprised she didn’t bond with it before my ill-conceived prank earlier.”

Her uncertainty written on her face, Rarity chose not to reply to that – not yet, at least.

“Anyway, I have good news, bad news, and worse news. Which would you like to hear first?”

“Bad then worse,” Rarity replied without hesitation. “I’d like to end this on a high note, if you don’t mind.”

Nodding, Twilight took a moment to consider the best choice of words. Perhaps a little context to lead into the bad news would work. “The artifact Sweetie Belle has is called the Element of Generosity. It’s part of a set of six, the Elements of Harmony. Individually, they’re of interest for their magical properties, but together they are absurdly powerful. The Element of Magic bonded with me not too long ago. I’ve left it in Celestia’s care for the time being, so when I say this, understand that I mean it. Parting with an Element is not easy. The call of Magic is always there in the back of my mind. Generosity is the worst of the set. After getting used to it, Celestia says removing it is a lot like making yourself deaf.”

After a few moments to process the information, Rarity said, “I see. That’s not so bad.”

Twilight shrugged. She fully intended to help Sweetie Belle through the transition, so whatever difficulties arose should be minimized. “The worse news is Celestia has a sister.”

Eyes wide in surprise, Rarity only managed a shocked, “What?”

“And unfortunately,” Twilight continued, “she’s due to return to Equestria soon. Luna is more gifted than Celestia in magical combat, and she’s…unhappy with her sister.”

Rarity connected the dots on her own. “You said the Elements of Harmony…” She paled. “You need Sweetie Belle to fight her.”

“I do.” It hadn’t exactly been her finest moment deliberately bonding Sweetie Belle to Generosity. But at the same time, Twilight knew they would get along well enough to power the Elements. “If I fail, I…” And now she realized that her deal with Luna didn’t cover the fate of the other Element bearers. That…had been a terrible mistake on her part. In her defense, at the time, the only other one had been Lyra. “I can shield Sweetie Belle from Luna if I fail.” Surely she could at least do that much. Luna couldn’t keep the Elements from her or stop her from finding replacement bearers, and the spirit of their bargain would prevent her from trying to use them on Luna again anyway.

Rarity fell to her haunches and buried her face in her hooves. “Does it matter if I say no?”

“I’m sorry, but no.”

To Twilight’s surprise, Rarity managed to collect herself remarkably quickly. She was made of stern stuff, it seemed, far sterner than Twilight had expected of a rural, wannabe socialite. If only Generosity had bonded with her instead.

“And the good news?”

“Well, I hope it’s still good news,” Twilight said a little nervously. Sweetie Belle’s family did still have the final call over her education after the solstice. “The Elements of Harmony as a whole are powered by friendship. I was already thinking about this, but Generosity bonding with Sweetie Belle decided me. I’d like to do for her what Celestia did for me.”

That, oddly, shocked Rarity more than the situation with Luna. Perhaps because it’d lacked any lead in, she’d not had the time to prepare herself for revelation. Once she found her voice, she weakly asked, “You want to take her as your apprentice?”

“Well, it wasn’t something so formal for me, but yes, more or less. Celestia kept me near to guide and assist me in my studies. She opened the entire Canterlot Archives to me and even her own personal collection. Some ponies, who will remain nameless, thought I’d never be heard from again. If Sweetie Belle needs something more structured than what I had, I’ll figure something out.”

To Rarity’s continued silence, Twilight added, “Um, assuming she accepts the offer and there are no objections.”

“No!” Rarity shouted before regaining her normal poise. She faked a cough, and then tried again. “No, I have no objections. And I will not allow our parents to interfere with this.”

Now that all the dramatic reveals were finished, Rarity collected the things she’d dropped and went back to work. They finished taking measurements quickly enough and would have then turned to a collaborative design session to decide on a rough outline for the robes Twilight wanted, but Rarity was quite clearly too distracted to properly indulge in the creative process. It only took a little pressing after they sat down at a table for the questions to pour forth from her.

“As a practical matter,” Rarity began, “how will this arrangement work? I know you lived in the castle with Princess Celestia, but what about Sweetie Belle?”

Twilight honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. She had the vague intention of attempting to replicate her experience as Celestia’s protégé, but such things as living arrangements and long-term lesson plans hadn’t even graced her mind. After giving the matter a little thought, she replied, “Until Sweetie Belle builds up her magic enough to teleport around at will, it’d be best for her if she stayed at the castle to have better access to me. Where she goes after is up to her. For now, I could clear out a room in my tower for her. Or we could house her somewhere nearby in the castle if you wanted to move in with her.” It’d certainly been a relief and a comfort to have Shining so close at hoof when she’d been in Sweetie Belle’s shoes.

“The latter would be an easier sell to my parents,” Rarity commented with an energy that failed to hide her own excitement at the possibility. “She would be able to have visitors?”

“As long as the castle is still standing at the end of the day.”

A nervous titter slipped past Rarity’s lips. “Yes, I’m sure she and her friends can rein in their more…”

“Cataclysmic?”

“Not the word I was going to use, darling, but yes. Perhaps you could make health and safety a particular focus of her studies at first?”

Twilight recalled her early experiments had often ended with her injured even when she’d learned enough to try to shield herself from the fallout. In hindsight, she wished she’d had somepony to teach her proper protective measures early on despite how boring the subject could be. It was an important skill to know how spells could go wrong, how to correct errors at leisure in controlled settings, and how to abandon ship when time was critical and every millisecond counted. Maybe she could incorporate it into a series of lessons designed to help Sweetie Belle learn from failure.

That would actually work well. I could teach her a protective spell, let her get comfortable with it, and then give her a bugged spell later on designed to fail precisely in a manner she can defend against. If she notices the error and corrects it, great. If not, I can tell her to investigate what happened and why. Point her in the direction of some useful resources if she needs the help. That’ll help her learn about the mechanics behind how magic actually works. Hmm… Celestia never did that with me, but then I guess I was already doing it to myself before we ever met. Still, I wonder if that’s asking too much from Sweetie Belle. Even I know not everypony learns best the way I do.

A slightly less than gentle nudge with an accompanying, “Twilight?” brought her out of her thoughts.

“Ah, sorry.” Twilight offered Rarity an apologetic smile. “Teaching and not hating it is new for me. I got a little lost reflecting on how I wanted to go about this.”

“Perfectly all right, darling.”

“You have the right idea, though,” Twilight continued. “If I’m going to give Sweetie Belle access to thousands of spells she can hurt or even kill herself with, I’m gong to need to drill proper caution into her head. Preferably in a way she enjoys so she doesn’t shy away from it.” A little hesitant, she added, “And probably in a manner unpleasant enough for her to learn its value as I did.”

Rarity pursed her lips together. “You mean you’re going to let her hurt herself?”

“Only in a controlled manner so she learns not to let far greater harm befall her in the future. Magic is dangerous.” Twilight wanted there to be no uncertainty in that. “It’s best she learns that early and…viscerally. Through means which don’t leave her afraid of it, of course.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure I approve,” Rarity said, “but magic is your field of expertise. And I do wish she would stop taking years off my life with her stunts.”

Twilight considered if it was best to say anything more before ultimately deciding to go ahead. “If it makes you feel any better, she’ll someday learn the polymorph spell. Anything short of an immediately fatal injury will wash off her. A seapony gouged a hole straight through my arm not too long ago, and as you can see” – she held up the affected limb and waved it around – “no lasting harm done.”

“Your ability to inspire confidence amazes me,” Rarity flatly replied. She did, however, look a little more closely at Twilight’s uninjured arm. “How exactly does that work?”

The precise details and mechanics were ridiculously complicated, but Twilight did her best to summarize it in laypony terms. “The polymorph spell performs a full transmutation on the subject’s body, leaving a copy of sorts of the original form in memory with a magical buffer to provide enough power to fully reverse the process when the spell expires. It’s the most general living transmutation spell known to unicorns, able to affect age, gender, color, and so on and so forth.”

“That sounds like a designer’s dream.” If she hadn’t already had so much dropped on her today, Twilight suspected Rarity would be gushing about it as she had thaumic thread before. “Is that what Silver Bell uses for her work?”

“Yes,” Twilight said simply and without further explanation. She expected Sweetie Belle to find out about changelings someday, but Rarity was another story entirely.

A thought must have struck Rarity then, as she furrowed her brow and fell silent for some time. Once she’d taken a few moments for herself, she asked, “Does that spell affect the brain as well?”

Ah, a mare of philosophy. Twilight had long since fielded all those questions from her mother and had a ready answer. “It does, and yes, that affects behavior to some degree. I particularly don’t enjoy being male, for example. But to answer what you’re really asking, pony brains are too simple to have much of our identity in them. Most of that is in our magic and remains unaffected by the spell.” Which, incidentally, was why Twilight didn’t live life as an alicorn or otherwise change species often. She had unicorn magic. No biological adjustments would change that, and simulating the magic of other species was a taxing chore usually not worth the effort.

Before Rarity could ask another question, Twilight felt somepony step over the boundary of her privacy spells. She turned her gaze toward the stairs, Rarity’s following with, and found Sweetie Belle timidly walking down them with her saddlebags as bulgy as Twilight had last seen them.

“Sweetie Belle–”

The filly in question emitted a startled, “Eep!”

“–we’re not quite done here yet. Do you need something?”

“I… I…do.” Sweetie Belle nervously took a few steps closer to address Twilight. “Could you help me with something?”

Knowing what this was about already, Twilight replied with a noncommittal, “Possibly. What do you need?”

Sweetie Belle slid her saddlebags off her back, unbuttoned them, and pulled out Generosity and the metal sphere Twilight had conjured. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Rarity’s gaze lock onto the Element with the same vacant look Moon Dancer had around Magic. She clicked her tongue. It was too late to change bearers now. Under the table, she kicked Rarity just hard enough to get her to snap back to reality.

Meanwhile, Sweetie Belle spun her story. “When I left home this morning, I had a stone sphere…thing. At some point during the day, it turned into these. I don’t know how or when or why, but it’s very important that I return them to normal.”

Sweetie Belle twitched – nearly pounced – when Twilight took Generosity into her own magic and drew it closer. Sweetie Belle, naturally, followed in its wake. The metal sphere, however, she dispelled without a thought.

“No!” Sweetie Belle cried. “I need that! Index is going to hate meeee!”

Across the table, Rarity directed a pointed look at Twilight which she ignored. She already knew this was her mess to clean up. The question was how. She wanted to ease Sweetie Belle into Index’s true identity in the hope of keeping the rapport they’d already built without muddying the waters with too much idolatry. She could discard that approach to comfort Sweetie Belle now, but that would probably be more trouble than it was worth. She’d just have to go with Celestia’s usual approach to this sort of situation and weave enough half-truths to get by until the time was right for the full truth. Besides, that was what mentors did, wasn’t it? Utter a bunch of cryptic nonsense that only made sense in hindsight?

Twilight lifted Sweetie Belle’s head with a gentle magical push. “Index isn’t going to hate you. I promise. This–” She first looked to Rarity and then nodded to Generosity. Rarity must have gotten the message, as she nodded back. “–is the Element of Generosity. It called to you, and you answered it.” She needed to lecture Sweetie Belle on the dangers of mysterious magical artifacts, especially ones that touched the mind, but that would keep until later. “Index is here looking for a bearer for each Element in her possession. I think she will be very happy to learn one of them chose you.”

“R-really?”

“Of course.” Twilight shifted of her seat and lowered herself down onto her barrel. At eye level, she smiled warmly and wrapped Generosity around Sweetie Belle’s neck. The moment she fastened it in place, Sweetie Belle’s eyes widened.

“This – am I–”

Nodding, Twilight leaned a little closer to whisper. “Yes, little telepath, it does exactly what you think it does. I warned Rarity in advance.”

Sweetie Belle wasn’t entirely able to hide the pout threatening to bloom on her face.

Twilight chuckled as she leaned back. “Why don’t you go practice with it and try to find Index. I’ll let her know you’re coming.”

“I… Well…” Sweetie Belle gnawed on her lip until Rarity called her on the unladylike behavior. Still, she glanced uncertainly between Generosity, the door, and Twilight.

“We’ll see each other again another time,” Twilight promised. “Generosity is a priceless national treasure. I’ll be in contact.”

So reassured, Sweetie Belle only somewhat reluctantly departed. Twilight called out, “Steer clear of crowds for now,” after her, having nearly forgotten that warning. Then once she’d fully gone, Twilight found her way back to her seat and noticed Rarity watching her with a look of approval. She arched an eyebrow.

“You’re good with foals.”

Twilight scoffed. “I’m good with precocious foals I like. Others, not so much. I have no more patience for them now than I did when I was that age.”

“And your own?” Rarity asked, a knowing smirk playing at her lips.

“Hmph. I’m a doting mother for every reason that implies.”

A dainty hoof covering her mouth couldn’t hide Rarity’s laughter.

Twilight paid the reaction no mind and pulled a book she’d collected on her trip earlier in the day from her bag of holding. “Here.” She placed it on the table. “This describes the treatment necessary to turn cloth infused with thaumic thread into a proper enchanted artifact. I’ve never done it myself, so do remember what I said about magic being dangerous and start small.”

With a delighted, “Thank you, darling,” Rarity took the thin book in her magic and rapidly flipped through the pages.

“I should get going. We can continue our discussions later. I need to take care of a few more things around town today, and Index needs to actually show up for Sweetie Belle to find.”
> Chapter Eleven - Shifting Dynamics
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“The specimen possesses an equally curious and frustrating ability to survive the destruction of its ‘body’. Indeed, its body, for lack of a better term, seems to be nothing more than a particularly dense concentration of its magic. This amorphous nature makes for some truly remarkable properties worthy of study, but as a creature lacking a physical form, it also displays a number of unique vulnerabilities. An intriguing attempt at expanded power and immortality, no doubt, but ultimately a flawed one.”





Index appeared in the midst of Pinkie Pie’s room. She had too much to do right now and little desire to track down every single pony who’d visited her in the hospital to find out who’d taken the other missing Element. She’d pass that task off to the pony who actually liked socializing and had uncanny magical powers to assist in the effort. Unfortunately, and a little surprisingly, Pinkie Pie wasn’t in her room in the middle of the afternoon. Giving the suite of known abilities available to her, Index had kind of expected she’d just be there on demand for guests. Perhaps the Cakes would know where she’d gone off to.

On her way out of the room, Index ran into a ‘note’ left out for her dangling from a string connected to a balloon just in front of the door. Huh. Maybe Pinkie Pie did know I was going to drop by looking for her here. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but like most things Pinkie Pie, she shoved those uncertain emotions down for later analysis after the solstice. It probably wasn’t the healthiest approach to take, but she’d already had multiple blow ups on this mission and didn’t need to actively pursue more trouble.

The note, if one could call it that, was a sheet of pink construction paper folded into a remarkable likeness of Pinkie Pie on a roughly thirty to one scale. There were even little googly eyes attached to the face with a speech bubble popping out. ‘To Index,’ it read in white crayon. The overly artistic eyesore came loose with a light tug of magic and unfolded with little difficulty.

‘Totally took Kindness while you were asleep. Super sorry. At Fluttershy’s.’

Index calmly set the note down, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

And then Twilight incinerated the letter. For good measure, she threw the ashes onto the carpeting, stomped on them with her hoof, and then rubbed them in as hard as she could, all while grinding her teeth together. She might have resolved to give friendship a try with Pinkie Pie, but that didn’t mean she was going to let the anomaly ruin everything. Lyra having Honesty was bad enough, and then she’d tossed Sweetie Belle under a carriage. Now this. If Kindness didn’t destroy the strange little fantasy world Pinkie Pie lived in where everything was sunshine and rainbows, then it most certainly would make her exponentially more unbearable.

You better have taken Kindness for Fluttershy and not yourself.

In a blink, Twilight teleported back to the Carousel Boutique. Rarity hadn’t moved in the short time she’d been alone, content to either read or pretend to read her new book.

“Rarity–”

The mare in question jumped with a shriek of surprise.

“–I need directions to Fluttershy’s house.”

After a visibly very nervous once-over, Rarity steeled herself and rose from her seat. “You need nothing of the sort in your state. You shall see neither hide nor hair of her if you go storming in ready for a fight, I promise you that.”

“It’s not her I’m after,” Twilight growled.

“Oh dear.” Her tone softening, Rarity asked, “What did Pinkie do?”

“She took Kindness.”

It took a few moments before Rarity caught on to Twilight’s meaning. “Isn’t that a good thing?” she asked once she had. “Pinkie is one of friendliest, most welcoming ponies in town.”

“Abrasively friendly,” Twilight replied. “And Kindness is the empathic Element.”

Rarity slowly frowned. “I see how that might worry you. Pinkie can be a little…grating in large doses. But there’s no point in being mad, now is there? From what you told Sweetie Belle, she could hardly help herself.” Her gaze grew a little distant, no doubt recalling the lesser influence Generosity, already bonded, had exerted over her. “You’ll simply have to make the best of it. Give her a chance. She’s really very nice. And do remember that this isn’t all about you. There will be four other ponies on your team to split her attention.”

“Fine,” Twilight grumbled. She hated that she couldn’t deny the logic in any of that. “Can I have directions now?”

With a thoughtful hum, Rarity said, “In time, darling. First, I think you would benefit from a few moments to relax.”

“I don’t have time for a spa trip,” Twilight deadpanned.

Rarity chuckled. “As pleasant as that sounds, I was thinking of something more traditional. Join me for tea?”

“I…suppose.” It probably was a better idea not to go in with magic flaring and her temper on a hair-trigger. With some reluctance, she acceded to follow Rarity upstairs to her kitchen.

As they climbed the stairs, Rarity said, “Now if you’re going to visit Fluttershy, you should keep in mind that she’s the quintessential introvert. The poor dear is ever so shy. Hence the name, I suppose. But I wonder… Does your polymorph spell allow you to change species?”





A little brown sparrow hopped back and forth on a nearby roof in what passed for a reasonable facsimile of pacing. It’d been doing that for the last five minutes now, occasionally glancing down toward the family before returning to its strange task. Oddly, another pair of sparrows not too far away seemed almost exasperated with the other one’s behavior, at times shaking their heads or covering their face with a wing.

“Spike? Are you paying attention?”

“Huh?”

Cadance raised her eyebrows in question when Spike failed to deliver even an attempt at pretending he had been.

“Oh, uh, sorry…” Spike scratched the back of his head and returned his gaze to the birds on the roof. They were still there and still just as strange in their behavior. He pointed a claw at them. “There’s something weird about those sparrows.”

Both Cadance and Flurry looked up from the board game they were playing. All three of them staring at said birds resulted in the two who had been standing back and watching flying up to the nervous one. They pushed it over the edge, and mutual glares were exchanged between the two parties.

“I see your point,” Cadance dryly commented over Flurry’s snickers. She raised her voice to be heard and called out, “You can come down now. I’m afraid you’re not fooling anyone.”

Spike had never seen a sparrow show embarrassment before, but he felt certain he had now as it glided down toward them. It landed on an empty space of their picnic blanket and then, in a rush of ice blue fire, it transformed into a young, distinctly female changeling. Unlike the few undisguised ones Spike had seen, this one had a ruby coloring to her chitin around her abdomen and a lighter tint to her wings alongside generally more defined features. She kind of looked like a young Queen Chrysalis who’d undergone a palette swap.

“Um, hello,” the changeling said as much to her hooves as anyone else. “I’m, well, I came from Ponyville, and Archmage Twilight said I could come visit?”

Cadance adopted a soft, disarming smile and took initiative. “Of course you can. Do you like Dragon Pit?”

“I’ve never played.” The changeling looked even more nervous for the admission, but Cadance just waved the worry away.

“It’s very self-explanatory. We take turns rolling the dice and moving our piece, and then we take whatever action the space we land on says. The goal is to be the last dragon standing. Simple, no?”

Although the nod remained uncertain, the changeling sat down and accepted the dragon piece Spike handed her from the box. Resetting the game took no time at all. As they did so, they ran through their probably unnecessary introductions and then waited on the changeling’s.

“I’m Ocellus. I’m from Chrysalis’s hive.”

Spike felt certain they’d all assumed that already, but it did open Ocellus up to a follow-up question. “Why do you look so different from every other changeling I’ve met?” He noticed Cadance direct a mildly disapproving glare his way, most likely at the brusque nature of his wording, but he still felt it was fair to ask.

“Oh! Uh, I’m a young queen. I’m sorry I forgot to mention that.”

“Really?” Cadance asked with perhaps a little more surprise than she should. “No one ever bothered to tell me Chrysalis had a…well, daughter, but I’m unsure what the proper term is.”

A tiny smile – just an upturning at the corners of her mouth, really – grew on Ocellus. “Daughter or heiress is fine.”

Flurry, with a scrutinizing eye, asked, “How old are you?”

When Ocellus replied that she’d recently turned ten, Cadance observed, “Then you hatched not long after your hive moved to Equestria.”

If changelings could blush untransformed, Spike was sure Ocellus would be. “I’m told we made the journey specifically to feed me.”

That, rather predictably, earned a sappy comment about Queen Chrysalis from Cadance that went largely ignored. At the same time, Flurry asked, “So what’s being princess of the hive like?”

“Oh, well…” After some time to think about it, Ocellus replied, “It was…different before Thorax, well, you know. I don’t remember much from back then, but I don’t think it’s all that dissimilar from your life. Mother teaches me about being queen, but I don’t really have many other responsibilities. I’m a little…sheltered.”

The feeling had been building, but Spike now had the distinct impression that he and Flurry were going to be a bad influence on Ocellus in all the best ways possible. He and Flurry, who appeared to be on exactly the same page, traded mischievous smirks while Cadance and Ocellus weren’t looking. They were going to teach this shy, sheltered princess how to have fun. And if the letters they’d been swapping with the Cutie Mark Crusaders held even the slightest grain of truth, life might be about to get very interesting.





Index walked down the path to Fluttershy’s home on the far, far outskirts of town and far too close to the Everfree for her liking. Had she not had two unawakened Elements in her possession, she no doubt would have felt the forest’s magic prickle at her horn – not strong enough to contest her own power, of course, but certainly not blind to her presence. She found herself at a loss for why anypony would want to live out here. Sure, it was isolated, but there were far better ways to obtain a little peace and quiet away from other ponies.

At any rate, the cottage at the end of the path stood at the top of a small hill with a creek surrounding nearly three-quarters of the structure. A single bridge spanned the stream. Unlike the preferred thatched roofing Ponyville proper preferred, Fluttershy’s home had a thick covering of moss. The most distinct feature, however, was the abundance of animals. They were everywhere. Beavers, otters, birds, hedgehogs, rabbits, raccoons, eagles, falcons, flamingos, and more. Index even thought she saw a bear slip into the less deadly fringe of the Everfree Forest.

“That’s a lot of animals.” Index had no more intelligent comment at the ready as she took the sight in. The closest she’d ever come to owning a pet herself was looking after Philomena, the largely self-reliant phoenix, for Celestia when she had to leave the country. That was trouble enough.

And speaking of trouble, Pinkie Pie came out of nowhere and glomped Index. Having expected something along that line, she didn’t didn’t even freeze up, much less fling Pinkie Pie into the sky. But she kind of wanted to anyway when Pinkie Pie commenced babbling.

“Oh my gosh, Index! Long time no see! For you, I mean, not for me. How are you feeling? Those hospital beds didn’t look very comfy. I tried one, and it was terrible, but at least you got some real sleep. Sure, it was feverish sleep, but fever dreams can be pretty cool! Oh, and sorry again for taking Kindness without asking, but it was just sitting there when I came in on top of a whoooole bunch of other stuff, and I figured you wouldn’t mind anyways, so I just went ahead and snuck it out before the nurses or anypony else noticed your stuff!”

Index breathed deeply, and then pried Pinkie Pie off of her. She set the mare down on all four hooves a meter away, took an extra step back herself, and even then she found that she hadn’t quite gotten her personal space back. Still, it would do for now.

“Pinkie Pie, where is Kindness?”

“Weeeell–”

Index sealed Pinkie Pie’s mouth shut with magic before she could ramble off another hundred paragraph in a single breath. “Let me try that again. Do you have Kindness?”

Without the ability to produce words – and thankfully, that did seem to be the case – Pinkie Pie shook her head.

“Does Fluttershy have Kindness?”

This time Pinkie Pie nodded.

“Wonderful,” Index said, genuinely pleased. She released the seal on Pinkie Pie’s mouth. “Thank you for the concise answers. Will you introduce us?” Better that than suffer the indignity of Rarity’s suggestion. She refused to polymorph into a fluffy bunny unless it became absolutely necessary.

“Of course! I’ll just head back in and get her warmed up for you. Give me a few minutes.”

And like that, Pinkie Pie pranced back up the path to the cottage on top of the hill. Index followed after at a much more sedate pace and waited just outside the open door out of sight.

“Pinkie,” said what was presumably Fluttershy in a diminutive voice, “I know you really wanted me to get this to work, but it just won’t.”

Well, I suppose I wasn’t at all invested in Fluttershy yet anyway. There were other ponies who could bear Kindness.

“I’m so sorry,” Fluttershy continued, “but I just don’t think I’m cut out for it. Even if it is a really nice necklace.”

Index’s eyes narrowed. If Kindness had already awakened, its bearer should have no trouble getting it to function. That meant it didn’t belong to Fluttershy, which in turn meant somepony else had bonded with it, and the only other pony who’d had a chance was the one trying to pass it off to her.

“Nonsense! My friend Index is right behind me. She’ll have you ready and able in two shakes of your tail.”

A heavy, resigned sigh rushed past Index’s lips. She cast a scrying spell to verify that, although Fluttershy did have Kindness around her neck, the gem it bore matched perfectly with Pinkie Pie’s cutie mark. I’ll need to thank Rarity again later for detaining me at her place until I calmed down.

“A new pony?” Fluttershy asked, her voice quavering. Index didn’t need to scry her to know that she’d sunk into herself. “I don’t know…”

Best put an end to this. Lightly rapping on the door with her magic, Index stepped into view. She politely ignored the startled eep she got in return and Fluttershy’s futile attempts to hide behind her own mane. “Excuse me. I need to borrow Pinkie Pie for a few moments.”

Without waiting for an answer, Index magically snagged Pinkie Pie by the ear and marched her out of the cottage. Once they had the illusion of privacy, Index plainly stated, “You can’t lend Kindness out. We need it at full strength, which means–”

A quiet eep emitted from the cottage as Kindness teleported into Index’s waiting hoof. She paid it no mind as she unhooked the necklace, resigned herself to the inevitable, and finally wrapped it around Pinkie Pie’s neck.

“–this is yours. If you didn’t want it, you shouldn’t have touched it.”

“But it was meant for Fluttershy!” Pinkie Pie protested. She casually removed Kindness from her neck, apparently entirely unfazed by the call. While that was odd and a little enviable, it was Pinkie Pie. Who knew what went on in her head.

Index refused to take Kindness back and stood between Pinkie Pie and the cottage door. “Elements aren’t meant for any one pony. I can name three ponies suited to bear Generosity” – counting Celestia – “four for Magic” – assuming Sunset could – “two for Honesty” – including Luna – “and now three for Kindness. Yes, I heard the longing in Fluttershy’s voice just now, but that doesn’t change the simple fact that it already bonded with you.”

“But I don’t… When I wear Kindness…” Pinkie Pie visibly wilted with her mood. Even her mane and tail became a little less bouncy. “I’m not meant for it.”

Index breathed in deep, and Twilight let it out. “Pinkie Pie… Pinkie, put on Kindness. Please. For me.”

And because Kindness had chosen to bond with her, of course Pinkie Pie did so.

“I don’t like you.”

The bluntness made Pinkie Pie wince, but it certainly got her to sit quietly and listen.

“I like to be left alone. You need constant attention. You terrify, confuse, annoy, and fascinate me all at the same time. If you’d shown up at any other point in my life, we wouldn’t even be talking.” Twilight paused to bring Pinkie Pie’s drooping eyes back up to hers. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends now. If you can try to appreciate my jade-colored glasses, I can try to appreciate your rose-tinted world.”

Pinkie Pie carefully said, “You mean that,” playing with the words aloud as she fidgeted with Kindness around her neck.

Twilight gave Pinkie Pie a weak smile. “It’s probably not what you deserve, but it’s all a sour, prickly mare like me has to offer. Friends?”

“Of course! I–” Pinkie Pie abruptly stopped halfway to another crushing hug. “Oh. Sorry, I–”

With a little sigh, Twilight stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Pinkie Pie’s neck. She usually drew a wide line concerning that sort of physical contact with mere acquaintances, but a simple hug felt like the least she could do for what she was asking. “Just give me some warning and some space when I need it, okay?”

Pinkie Pie nodded into Twilight’s neck.

“I’m sorry I’m not going to make this easy for you,” Twilight said as they broke apart, “but thank you. I would say you have no idea how much this means to me, but you probably do.”

“Of course I do, silly!” Pinkie Pie laughed as she said that and tapped Kindness. “That’s what this is for.”

Twilight smiled a little more warmly at that. While Kindness took it to a much higher level, she was well used to that particular violation of privacy from the changelings.

“That was so sweet.”

Oh, right. Twilight had forgotten they had an audience. The moment Fluttershy realized she’d been heard, she let out a sheepish squeak and pulled her head back inside her cottage. Well…Pinkie Pie can deal with that. I need to go let Sweetie Belle finally find me. “Can I trust you to swear Fluttershy to secrecy?”

With a ridiculously inaccurate salute, Pinkie Pie replied, “You can count on me!” and then hopped off back into the cottage after her friend.





Three knocks came at the door, and then Derpy called out, “Rainbow Dash, I’ve got some mail for you!”

From her dining room, Rainbow Dash groaned. She quickly took the first bite of her fresh, delectable, overdue dinner and then left the cloud holding her fork in place with a huff. “Go ahead and start without me, Squirt,” she said to Scootaloo. “Remember, no wings or hooves.”

“I wasn’t going to!”

Rainbow Dash arched her eyebrows at Scootaloo’s fidgeting arms and the shaking spoon suspended in a cloud awkwardly trying to find her mouth without spilling. They were still working on her ability to effect smooth, precise movements. She was doing a lot better than when she’d started, but Rainbow Dash was glad she lived in a cloud house and only rarely had to clean up the mess.

Whatever. She either practices or she doesn’t. Not my problem.

Except she’d kind of made the squirt her problem just like she had the last pegasus who had trouble flying, but Rainbow Dash paid that thought no mind. Instead, she impatiently – but at heart lazily – suppressed her body’s natural magic and sank through the clouds of her house until she broke her fall on the lowest floor. Following that shortcut, it was only a short few steps to the front door. When she opened it, her usual mailmare greeted her.

“You know I have a mailbox, right?”

Digging around in her mailbag, Derpy replied, “I know, but the boss said I have to absolutely make sure you one-hundred percent get your mail today, no excuses.” Sticking her tongue out, she shifted her bag to let her stick her head inside of it for a closer look. “I know they’re in here somewhere…”

“Hmph. You can tell our esteemed postmaster I’m perfectly happy with my mailmare.” Celestia, but Rainbow Dash hated the postal system in earth pony towns. Derpy was the best thing to ever happen to the service even if it sometimes required her to hunt down or trade mail with other ponies. “So what’s so important that he’s bothering you?”

A muffled, “Found one!” came from the bag of mail. Derpy, despite the poor light, her eye condition, and her dyslexia, none of which made her job any easier, emerged from her bag with an envelope hanging from her mouth. Rainbow Dash took it with a hoof, only for her to disappear back into her bag again.

This is from the Wonderbolts. Even if she weren’t a fan, Rainbow Dash would have recognized the seal by now. With a silent sigh, she let the wind carry that one up to her office where Scootaloo wouldn’t find it. The squirt knew not to go in there, and weather management was boring, anyway.

“Aha! Here you go.” Derpy held out another letter, this one bearing the royal seal of the sun and moon. Anypony with a government job would recognize it.

Stunned, Rainbow Dash asked, “What? But…why?”

“Don’t know,” Derpy mumbled through a corner of her mouth. She waved the letter insistently, and Rainbow Dash mechanically reached out for it. “See ya later.”

Rainbow Dash, now alone, turned the envelope over to see which member of the royal family had sent it to her. The return address read as Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, the one and only pegasus princess – well, until she’d given birth, but that wasn’t the point. Practically every pegasus looked up to her!

Conjuring a bit of cloud from the water vapor in the air, unwilling to wait, Rainbow Dash channeled enough of her magic through it to turn it into a passable paper knife. After she broke the wax seal, she tossed the envelope onto a table nearby in case she needed it later and then made her way back upstairs. As she climbed, she repurposed the cloud she’d formed to hold the letter open in front of her. Unicorns had their fancy-schmancy telekinesis; she had clouds.

‘Dear Rainbow Dash,

‘I hope this letter finds you well and in good humor. There will be a few major changes coming to Equestria with the turning of the millennium, and I hope to bring about one of them. Let me first explain what I want to accomplish, and then I’ll share what major role I want you to play in it.’

Rainbow Dash was already excited. It was going to suck turning the princess down.

‘A pegasus can learn any branch of our magic with a little practice, even those magics outside their field of specialty (if they even have one). Some might come more easily to us than others, but such is the nature of ponies. Some find it easier to ride a bike than a scooter. Some find it easier to bake than to brew. In addition, pegasus magic has few set forms. We give our magic intention and direction and let it do the heavy lifting.

‘This is in stark contrast to unicorns. They struggle to master any spell not related to their own special talent. It’s not a limitation of their tribe so much as it is how difficult their magic is to perform without a helping hoof (if my sister ever tries to tell you otherwise, do not believe her). Moreover, every single spell they cast requires discipline and structure, even telekinesis to some extent.

‘In these ways, unicorns and pegasi are very different. Unfortunately, Equestria’s educational system is largely structured around what the former built for themselves centuries ago. Yes, shocking, I know. Regardless, nowhere is this concern more prevalent and problematic than in the way we teach pegasi to use their magic. I want to put an end to this.

‘As such, I have begun construction on a new school for gifted pegasi. I intend to take the best and brightest of our tribe and experiment with their education to find the best way to help them reach their full potential. Once I determine what that is, I plan to take it to the Department of Education for implementation across the nation.

‘This is where you come in. According to my extensive research, you are Equestria’s leading expert on pegasus magic. I need you to help me develop a curriculum and stay on as a professor.’

“What?” Rainbow Dash had been on board with everything Princess Cadenza had said up until that point. “But – but that’s egghead stuff!”

“What’s egghead stuff?”

Rainbow Dash blinked. When she looked up from the letter, her eyes fell on the guest she’d entirely forgotten had been in her house, at her table, eating just across where she’d unconsciously returned as she’d read. “Uh… It’s nothing, Squirt. Just let me finish this.”

Although obviously unhappy to have her curiosity denied, Scootaloo fell silent and returned to what remained of her dinner.

‘Now then,’ the letter continued, ‘as I have heard how stubborn you can be, follow the instructions below.

‘You plan on accepting my offer – turn to page two

‘You plan on resisting – turn to page three’

What the… ‘Resisting’? Muttering under her breath, Rainbow Dash said, “What is this, a Choose Your Own Adventure?” A little nervously – she was dealing with royalty here – she turned to page three.

‘The walls close in around you. Within moments, you run out of air. You die.’

Rainbow Dash gaped at the page’s contents, but as there was more text to follow, she continued reading.

‘Just kidding. I bet your first reaction was something along the lines of, “Is this a Choose Your Own Adventure letter?”’

“What? But how?” Rainbow Dash mumbled aloud.

‘That’s right. I know your secret. You, Rainbow Dash, are an ‘egghead’.’

Rainbow Dash slammed her forehooves onto the table and cried, “No! That’s not true!” And, naturally, that made Scootaloo pause midbite to stare at her. “I, uh – I just – well – um…” She gave up. “I don’t even know how to lie my way out of this. Just be patient with me, Squirt.”

“Uh-huh…” Scootaloo hummed skeptically. Nonetheless, she didn’t ask any questions yet.

Now very wary of the deceptively innocent princess’s letter, Rainbow Dash read, ‘You have nothing to be ashamed of, Reading Rainbow.’ She groaned at the second most mortifying name she’d hoped to never hear again, just after Rainbow Crash. ‘Some of the most interesting and powerful ponies in the world absolutely adore reading. Ponies like Archmage Twilight Sparkle, Princess Celestia, and Prince Consort (that still cracks me up) Shining Armor, to name a few of the most obvious ones. Even I maintain a hobby as an author. Of course, while I have little doubt none of your friends would think less of you if they found out, a secret kept for so long has power.

‘You plan on accepting my offer – turn to page two

‘You brave my displeasure – turn to page four’

Rainbow Dash gulped and turned to the fourth – and worse, not final – page in the letter. A doodle of Princess Cadenza sighing served there as a drop cap.

‘While I cannot say I’m surprised to see you here, I had held out hope that the Wonderbolts were just trying to prevent me from poaching fresh talent from them. From what my agents tell me–’

She has agents? Oh Celestia, of course she does. Everypony knew the archmage and the princess got on well with her. All Princess Cadenza had to do was ask one of them.

‘–you have a couple reasons for staying in Ponyville by the names of Fluttershy and Scootaloo. We investigated, naturally, and I intend to offer the latter a place at my new school. I also happened to hear a juicy piece of gossip about one of her friends that will make the move very appealing to her.

‘As for Fluttershy, it might surprise you how few ponies there are with her particular field of expertise. The royal menagerie’s current caretaker, Mr Greenhooves, is looking to take on an apprentice so he can retire. It’s a quiet job. Lots of time to yourself. The menagerie isn’t open to the public, you see. I may have dropped her name to him.

‘You now understand that resistance is futile – turn to page two

‘You tempt fate – turn to page five’

Rainbow Dash took a hesitant peek at page five.

‘You know, as a government employee, I can transfer you anywhere I want. Your only options would be to quit, comply, or hope that, with enough public grovelling in open court, my aunt will overrule my decision.’

And that was enough for Rainbow Dash. Out of morbid curiosity, she flipped to the end of the letter. The only option at the bottom was to turn to the second page, so she did so without further resistance, for it was, indeed, futile.

‘Excellent choice! Enclosed, you will find a ticket for a private carriage on the line to Canterlot. You may bring anypony you like with you to the meeting, within reason, should you wish for company or advice. When you arrive, give your name to the guards at the main gate of the castle. They will escort you to me.

‘This early in the project, I doubt I will take too much of your time. Mostly, I want a chance to get to know you a little better and answer any questions you might have. We can make this a day trip if you wish. If not, I can offer accommodations at the castle for you and any guests you bring.

‘See you tomorrow,

‘Princess Cadance’

Rainbow Dash leaned forward until her chest bumped against the table, whereupon she let her head droop in defeat. Princess Cadance, she supposed it was, had politely uprooted her life in one fell swoop, and there wasn’t much she could do without ruining the opportunities Fluttershy and Scootaloo had in front of them now.

“What is it? What’s wrong? How can I help?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about, Squirt.” Rainbow Dash folded up the letter and tucked it under her leg for now. “I’ve just been drafted, is all.”

“What? Why? I thought they haven’t done that for centuries. Can they even do that anymore?”

If Rainbow Dash correctly remembered the government course she’d had to take to become Ponyville’s weather manager, Princess Celestia still could in certain circumstances. Not that it really mattered. “It’s just a figure of speech. Though I see Cheerilee has been teaching you well.”

Scootaloo blushed and averted her eyes. “We just had a history test at the end of the spring term.”

“Hey, it’s cool. Knowledge is power and all that.”

Turning back and more confused than before, Scootaloo uttered a mere, “Huh?”

“Our princess drafted me into teaching. Might as well start playing the part.” At a mutter, Rainbow Dash added, “Not like I don’t do it already.”

Stunned, Scootaloo took a few moments to recover. Once she had, she said, “That’s not fair! She can’t do that to you.”

Rainbow Dash eyed the pages of increasing levels of royal prerogative still floating in the air next to her. “No, she totally can. I mean, she can’t absolutely force me to, but…”

The table fell silent.

“Does this mean you’re going away?” Scootaloo asked at a whisper.

Nodding, Rainbow Dash said, “From Ponyville, probably.” It’d be a hassle to commute even if she could make the flight in far less than an hour. “From you, not necessarily.”

“What do you mean?”

Rainbow Dash really, truly hoped that little spark of hope in Scootaloo’s eyes wasn’t about adoption. She was not ready to have that level of responsibility in her life, and she knew it. “Princess Cadenza wrote that she’s got a place for you in the fancy magic school she’s opening for pegasi. If you want to come.”

“Of course I do! Ponyville would be so boring without you.”

“What about the Crusaders?” Rainbow Dash asked. “Won’t you miss them?”

Scootaloo wore guilt far too poorly for somepony who’d caused so much trouble in her short life. “Well, yeah… But Sweetie Belle has this super cool new spell that lets her send letters to anypony. We have pen pals in Canterlot I can hang out with, and they send letters back the same way, so, you know, it’s something.”

Huh. Guess that explains what the princess meant about one of Scootaloo’s friend. “So who are these pen pals of yours?”

“You’re not going to believe this. They’re Spike and Flurry, a dragon and a princess.”

The table fell silent once more.

Rainbow Dash opened her mouth, but no words came out.

“I know! So awesome, right!”

Shaking her head, Rainbow Dash pushed away the first concerns that came to mind. She didn’t want to think about what the Crusaders could get up to with the ear of royalty. Nor did she want to know how they’d met a dragon of all creatures. She was sure there was a long and convoluted story for that one which she’d regret hearing as soon as it finished. What she didn’t know, she couldn’t be held responsible for. Instead, she just said, “You realize Princess Flurry Heart is Princess Cadance’s daughter, right?”

That took the wind right out of Scootaloo’s wings. “Well, yeah, but…”

Rainbow Dash grinned. “It’s cool, Squirt. I’m just messing with you.”

“Oh. Right! So we met after Index needed to send off a secret message to HQ but couldn’t because of the whole hospitalized thing, so she taught Sweetie Belle the… What did she call it? Flame sending spell? Whatever. She taught her how to send things to herself and then Spike, who happens to be the archmage’s son.”

How Rainbow Dash managed not to choke on her dinner, she would never know. After forcing it down, she said, “Wait, time out. You mean when you were going on about Index being a secret agent this morning, you had actual proof?”

“Yeah, duh!” A moment passed. “I suppose I probably should have mentioned that earlier.”

“You probably shouldn’t have said anything at all,” Rainbow Dash countered. Secrecy was in the name. “But go on.” She might offer to help when she got back to Ponyville the day after tomorrow. How cool would that be? One last hurrah before she got stuck in a boring teaching position. Not that weather management was all that interesting, but it did give a mare of her talents an enormous amount of free time. And if nothing else, it’d be perfect counter blackmail material if she tries to tell anypony about the library.





It was with no small amount of hesitation that Flash knocked on the office door for the Captain of the Royal Guard. Captain Armor rarely jumped over the chain of command to speak directly, one-on-one, face-to-face like this with his ponies. Twilight Sparkle’s protective big brother, Shining Armor, was a different story, but rank never played into those intimidation sessions.

The door swung open without warning to reveal a furiously pacing Captain Armor on the other side. He stopped only momentarily a few moments later to order Flash to, “Get in already.” He all but slammed the door closed once Flash had entered.

“Er, Captain, is something wrong?”

For a few seconds, Flash wondered if Captain Armor had even heard the question, because, in hindsight, it was a stupid one, but then he stopped pacing. His brow furrowed ever more deeply. He tilted his head up to stare at some blank spot on the wall. “Secrets, secrets, and more secrets. To top it all off, something has my sister spooked.”

Oh, that’s not good. It took an awful lot to scare the invincible archmage.

“Not that it’s any concern of yours. You’re fired.”

“What?” Flash said, shocked. That had been so sudden.

Captain Armor continued on without an clarification or explanation. “Pack your things and be gone by sunrise tomorrow.”

“But, Sir, why?”

A sheet of paper flew from the captain’s desk in the light pink of his magic. He didn’t reveal its contents, but Flash recognized the standard form from having to fill out a couple himself on behalf of other staff in the castle.

“You pushed the wrong buttons one time too many,” Captain Armor said. As his eyes swept back and forth across the paper, they stopped on something interesting. He snorted with an amused smirk. “Still doesn’t know your name.” He returned the document from whence it came. “Ah well. Sorry, Flash. You’re a good guard, but such is life. I’m sure the police or the army will take you in.”

As if that would be any substitute! Flash stood a little straighter. “Captain, I have done nothing that would raise to the level of a formal complaint. I wish to protest this decision.”

Captain Armor pursed his lips. “Everything has to be difficult,” he muttered. Then to Flash, he said, “Okay, I’m going to level with you. We both know who submitted the complaint. We both know how much power and latitude the princess has given her over the years. We both know that if she wants you gone, you’re gone. She doesn’t need a reason.” He locked eyes with Flash. “You want to make this go away?”

While he didn’t want to make it go away so much as have it never have happened, Flash nodded.

“Then it’s easy. Just stop jogging her memory. She identified you as ‘that pegasus I throw out the window’. Didn’t even know what color your coat is. She’ll forget all about you. I won’t say anything. The odds she’ll remember she even bothered to halfway fill out a complaint are nearly zero. Life carries on. All you have to do is stop pursuing her.”

As simple as that sounded on paper, it wouldn’t stop his heart from fluttering when she passed nor help his impulse control when it came to her. Flash did so wish to have even the chance to defrost Equestria’s ice queen, to help her learn to truly let other ponies in. Some of the things Spike said, too young to have the kind of filter the rest of her family possessed or the perspective to know what was normal, were distinctly worrying. Like, who turned down the chance to relax and celebrate the successful end of a long, difficult case in favor of locking herself away from the world to do even more work?

“I don’t think I can do that,” Flash said, not so long as she remained unattached, at least.

“Then this is the end of you career here. As a professional, I’m sorry to see you go.”

Flash managed a weak smile. “And as a brother?”

“Oh, as a brother, I’d be happy to personally kick you out the door. My sister is a precious flower who will forever bloom alone untouched, admired only from afar.” Captain Armor laughed. “Honestly, I thought she would have scared off all her suitors by now, but I suppose there will always be ponies like you with no sense of self-preservation. Not a day goes by when our parents don’t tell me somepony new has shown up at their door to harass them. None nearly as bad as Blueblood, but still. I at least respect you for not going down that route.”

A shiver washed over Flash. He’d been around to see the aftermath of that debacle. The little petty displays of annoyance the archmage directed at him were nothing compared when somepony actually made her angry.

“Anyway, last chance to change your decision. You taking it?”

Flash shook his head. He knew himself too well. How could he ever not find himself fascinated with the most interesting mare in Equestria? “It’s not so bad.” If he told himself that enough, maybe it would be true. “Worse come to worst, I have an in to come visit from time to time.” Although he did wonder how Spike would react if the archmage ever actually took a lover. Probably wouldn’t be with more laughter.

While Captain Armor arched an eyebrow at the claim, he didn’t inquire. “Take care of yourself, Flash. The Royal Guard will be happy to give you a reference.”

Flash gave his thanks, such as they were, and left the office. He didn’t want to linger another night in the barracks, so he gathered what few physical possessions he had there and headed out. He could commiserate with his friends amongst the guard over drinks some other time. One of the side exits, he decided, would serve him best: better he blend in a little on his departure than make a show of it flying away or trudging through the main gate.

Once he was outside the castle, Flash stopped to consider where he would go from there. He didn’t have family in town, so he’d probably have to rent a room at an inn for now. Then he supposed he could take the advice given to him and see if the Canterlot Police Department would take him. He knew the law well enough to do the job and was good enough in a scrape to take down the average unicorn. It would be a living.

With one last sigh and glance back at the castle, Flash adjusted the load on his back and set off.

“Huh. You’re really gonna do it.”

What? Isn’t that–

Before Flash had time to process what was happening, he found himself both back in Captain Armor’s office and very thankful that he tolerated teleportation better than most ponies. Nothing really had changed in perhaps the half hour since he’d left, although the captain himself now wore a slightly less stern expression.

“You’re an idiot,” Captain Armor deadpanned, “but congratulations on your promotion, Sergeant.”

A moment passed.

What? “This was a test?” Flash asked, the strain in his voice obvious. 

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Captain Armor at least had the decency to actually look a little apologetic. “But when I said something has Twily spooked, I meant it. She already had me rake Incog over the coals for an unrelated matter and sound out her loyalties.”

“Incog? Director of the EIS, Incog?”

Captain Armor nodded with a grave, tired expression. “She wants everypony vetted. And I mean everypony, not just the scoundrels she picks up and puts to work.”

Well, that certainly shed a different light on the ridiculous test of character Flash had just undergone. It still annoyed him without question, but– “Wait.” He just realized something more important. “Then that complaint–”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, she deals with problems a thousand times bigger than you on a daily basis. You’re not even on her radar.”

That came simultaneously as a relief, a strange disappointment, and an annoyance for how smugly satisfied the captain looked when he said that. Then Flash finally processed the other bit of news.

“Hang on, promotion? You’re making me sergeant?”

Whilst humming an affirmative, Captain Armor opened a drawer of his desk. He removed a file from it and passed it off to Flash. “I’m putting you in charge of security for the Summer Sun Celebration in Ponyville. All the information you’ll need is in there. You’ll head out tomorrow morning. I would say it shouldn’t be a very difficult first assignment, but, well, try to keep at least part of the town intact.”

Flash arched his eyebrows.

“You’ll understand when you get there. It’s a strange place.”

Skipping over any proper explanation, Captain Armor’s horn lit up. A small illusion of a rather bookish looking mare appeared atop his desk. Flash, as he was trained to do, quickly noted the three primary means of identifying ponies – mane, coat, and cutie mark – and then turned his gaze back up.

“This is Index Code. She’s in change of the festival preparations.”

She certainly looked the type for administrative work. “What’s the catch?” Flash asked. Surely Captain Armor wouldn’t have put him through such a drawn out test just for a routine, annual holiday.

“I want you to keep an eye on her whenever you can. And for both our sakes, don’t let her notice you doing so.”

“I see.” Flash scrutinized the image closer. She looked harmless, hardly fit for treachery, but things weren’t always as they appeared. “What has she done to make you suspicious of her?”

Captain Armor laughed. “I think you have the wrong impression. Her real name is Twilight Sparkle.”

Oh. That certainly changed things.

“I’m sending you because you’re too pathetically, hopelessly smitten to work against her.”

With a huff, Flash said, “Rude.”

“But true nonetheless,” Captain Armor retorted. “Whatever reason she suddenly has to be worried about traitors, I trust you’re not going to be the one to stick a knife her back.”

As if that even needed to be said.

“Now then, there’s something else you’re going to need to know. This year’s celebration has a major complication. Princess Celestia has a sister…”





A loud crash of who knew what falling to the ground filled the alley. A stray cat let out a displeased hiss over the disturbance. If anypony saw what had happened, nothing came of it. Sweetie Belle, heedless to anything in her way, stumbled forward with her vision swimming away from the heart of Ponyville as fast as she could. She couldn’t take it anymore. She should have better heeded the archmage’s warning. It was too much, too overwhelming. It felt like her ears were bleeding, but she couldn’t numb the pain. She’d tried.

A stack of crates moved into Sweetie Belle’s path and rudely pushed her to the ground. As much as she wanted to curl up into a little ball and cry, she hurriedly got to her hooves, apologized to the inanimate objects, and pressed on. The voices wouldn’t stop if she stayed here.

“–hay, bread, almonds–”

“–was the archmage really–”

“–book is overdue. I need to–”

“–what those blank flanks–”

“–cannot believe how amazing–”

Sweetie Belle wanted to scream. If it was just a swarm of ponies endlessly chattering about nothing, she might be able to tune them out. But everything echoed. Every sound, every word, every sneeze, every cough, once unleashed, spread across every mind nearby, none in sync with each other. It all hit her at once, digging into her skull, demanding attention and overtaxing her poor brain. She couldn’t process even a fraction of the chaos, and even her own thoughts were drowned out in the cacophony.

“–know, right? What was she–”

“–I never thought she would–”

“–wundrung æt−hwega hit hê–”

“–he ever stop talking–”

“–no, I needed to replace the–”

A mud puddle from last night’s rain, so very uncouth by nature, crossed Sweetie Belle’s path. She put one hoof on it, and it knocked her completely off balance. She ended up tumbling into it. Now wet, filthy, and even more frustrated, she rose back to her hooves and pressed on, trying not to cry.

And then, as though her perseverance had been rewarded, there was sweet, blissful silence. Sweetie Belle didn’t care how. It didn’t matter. She was finally alone in her head again. She collapsed forward flat onto the ground, not even bothering to tuck her legs in against her barrel. She had peace at last.

An eternity passed before Sweetie Belle finally cared to open her eyes and determine what had brought an end to her suffering. Somehow, it seemed, she’d managed to jump from the center of Ponyville to an empty field near Saddle Lake. Any other day, that might alarm her or even excite her. Who knew? Perhaps she’d spontaneously learned to teleport! Maybe that would earn her a cutie mark at long last! But such was her exhaustion that she didn’t even check her blank flank.

Huh? As she slowly surveyed the area around her, Sweetie Belle’s eyes landed on a mare sitting alone atop a picnic blanket a fair distance off. It seemed like she was brewing tea while simultaneously preparing a potion. Apple Bloom had a taste for Zebrican alchemy, and it at least looked like a similar setup to hers. Upon closer inspection, the mare looked familiar. Is that Index? It has to be. If nothing else, it certainly explained how Sweetie Belle had ended up out here in the middle of nowhere. Index must have come to rescue her from her own poor decisions.

Chagrined, now both a thief and a failure, Sweetie Belle began the walk of shame toward Index as she magically cleaned herself up as best as she could with all the practice she had from crusading. What must Index think of her now? Archmage Twilight had said she wouldn’t be mad, but that was before Sweetie Belle had failed so spectacularly in the task set out before her. And wasn’t that a sobering, dream shattering thought? She’d failed the one simple test her idol had given her. It was vain of her to even dare imagine she could one day be like the archmage.

Sweetie Belle slowed as she neared the strange picnic. Generosity had long since picked up Index’s thoughts, but they were in a language she didn’t recognize. From how they flittered about as Index worked, fragmented and half-formed, they felt less like real thoughts than flashes of instructions she’d long since learned to follow with an idle horn without conscious attention.

Far too quickly for her liking, Sweetie Belle stood at the edge of the picnic blanket. Her gaze fell to her hooves, and she dared not cross that final threshold uninvited. She shook but gathered what courage she had left. “Index.”

Index’s thoughts suspended for a moment. Then she turned to look at the one who’d disturbed her work. “Oh, Sweetie Belle. Obviously. How are you feeling? Give me a moment, please. I need to finish this.”

The string of short sentences had come in a flurry. Sweetie Belle managed to catch them all, but only barely. Thankfully, they didn’t echo either, which she supposed made sense. Only words spoken aloud, her own included, would do that.

So Sweetie Belle waited. Index had asked a question, but she’d also said not to bother her, and if that forestalled her coming judgment, then so be it.

It was a few minutes before Index finally finished whatever she was doing. She let out an accomplished sigh once she had. Then after pouring a single cup of tea, she added a small dose of the potion in her cauldron, thereafter stirring the mixture together. “Do you like sugar?”

“Ah! Oh, um, yes.”

Index pulled some sugar lumps from nowhere and threw them into the tea as well. Then as she cleaned up, her brewing equipment vanishing presumably to wherever the sugar had come from, she held the teacup out invitingly. “Here. Princess Celestia swore by this recipe back when she bore Generosity. It should ease the pain.”

“I… Thank you.” Sweetie Belle took the drink and sipped at it cautiously. To her surprise, it didn’t have the usual nasty potion taste she’d expected. It certainly wasn’t good by any metric, but neither was it so awful that she needed something else to wash it down with. And as she swallowed more and more of it, she felt the fatigue and strain on her mind lessen.

Yet this act of kindness and generosity only brought into sharp relief how much Sweetie Belle had done wrong. “Index,” she whispered, her voice cracking, “I’m – I’m s-so sorry. I stole the E – Element of Generosity.”

“No apology necessary, but you’re forgiven nonetheless. I forgot that what I’d asked of you would put you in the proximity of four Elements. That was my fault.”

Sweetie Belle tried to tell Index that she didn’t need to apologize, but it didn’t work.

“Even if I was a bit out of it at the time, I was negligent. There’s an assumption of responsibility for carrying around magical artifacts, and however well it turned out in the end, I failed in my duty there. That’s something you need to understand if you want to continue walking the path of magic. But more importantly, I failed in my responsibility to you. I hope you can accept my apology. It won’t happen again.”

“But – but you don’t need to…” Under the look Index leveled on Sweetie Belle, as though she’d not heard a single word, she trailed off and changed tack. “Um… No apology necessary, but you’re forgiven nonetheless?”

Index rolled her eyes. “Very well. On another note, from what I’m told, Generosity didn’t awaken for you until recently, which means you never physically touched it until then. That’s an impressive level of mental discipline. Especially for your age.” She paused a moment, likely for effect the way Rarity would on occasion. “Why didn’t you just take Generosity off earlier?”

A few moments passed in silence.

“Oops.”

Despite the context, Index still smiled and indulged in a smothered, guilty laugh or two. “I understand,” she said. “Taking an Element off isn’t easy, and Generosity is supposedly the most addictive of the entire set.”

That made Sweetie Belle feel slightly better about such an obvious mistake.

“At any rate, we need to talk about where we’re to go from here. Generosity is yours for life, and we need the Elements of Harmony in the near future.” Index held up a hoof to forestall Sweetie Belle’s questions. “This is classified information, so I need you to–” She hesitated a second before letting out a small sigh. “–Pinkie Promise not to share any of it without permission.”

As requested, Sweetie Belle ran through the motions. “Can I at least tell my friends?”

After another longer moment of hesitation, Index replied, “Only the Crusaders, and only if they first Pinkie Promise as well.”

“And Rarity?”

“She knows the broad strokes already,” Index replied. “Archmage Twilight spoke with her earlier today after she found Generosity in your possession.”

Sweetie Belle nodded. That seemed more than fair enough, all things considered. Thus did Index then inform her about Princess Luna, Princess Celestia’s sister, whose alias happened to be the Nightmare Moon of legend and who might not be as evil as expected but certainly had a familial grudge to settle.

“I’ll help!” Sweetie Belle volunteered immediately long before Index even asked. That was obviously what she was leading up to, and the Elements must play a crucial role in defeating Nightmare Moon.

Index huffed, clearly a little put out at her lecture being short-circuited. “In the interest of full disclosure so an antagonistic dramatic reveal can’t ruin everything, I have a lot of secrets. You’ll learn a few soon. Some, later. Many, never. One secret you need to know up front is that the Elements of Harmony, which is what the full set of the Elements is called, are powered by friendship.”

That seems a little…

“Yes, I know,” Index said as though she could read Sweetie Belle’s mind. “Regardless, I want you to know that I was considering this before I found out you had Generosity. Would you like to become my official protégé?”

Sweetie Belle fell into silent shock.

“This really is a genuine offer, not just because of the Elements. You have real talent I’d like to help nurture. Honesty can detect subjective truth, so you can verify that later if you wish. I’ve never really taught before, so I’ll understand if–”

No longer able to contain herself, Sweetie Belle let out an excited shriek of delight. She pranced in place in the futile hope of expending some of the energy swelling up within her. “Yes, please!” She finally had a teacher! And not just any teacher, but one of the most amazing unicorns in Equestria! One who worked closely with the archmage, even! She couldn’t help but squeal again. “I’m so excited I could burst!” How could such a nightmarish day turn into the best one of her life so quickly?

Index, so insouciant to such a monumental event, said, “Well, I’m glad you’re happy. While you burn off a bit of that passion, where did you hide my papers?”

“Huh? Oh, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and I buried them by the zap apple grove on Sweet Apple Acres.”

With a nod, Index said, “I’ll be right back. This won’t take long.”

Index teleported away, leaving Sweetie Belle alone. With the privacy given to her, she didn’t feel embarrassed to dance about and sing her glee to the sky without any real direction or intention. This was like every Hearth’s Warming and birthday for the rest of her life come early! The only thing that could make today better was if she got her cutie mark and Index revealed that she’d secretly been Archmage Twilight all along.

Without fanfare, Index returned in a blink. That remained as amazing as it had been when Sweetie Belle had seen Sun Wisp do it. She couldn’t wait to learn how to do it herself!

“By the way,” Index began, “I should probably mention that learning under me is going to be a lot different than you’re used to from school. You’re going to need a lot of self-motivation to get much out of me.”

Sweetie Belle had that in spades. All of the Crusaders did. “What’s my first lesson?”

“Did you finish your last one?”

In all the excitement, Sweetie Belle had entirely forgotten about that. She’d chosen Rarity’s gem-finding spell and had an entire list back at home, but she did her best to rattle off everything she could remember writing down. “And the last one I can recall is using it as an improvised tracking spell. You would only need to stick a small gem – a sliver, really – onto something to make it work.”

“Good enough,” Index said. “The exercise is what mattered, not the submission. Your next assignment will be somewhat similar. Do you remember the duel between Trixie and the archmage?”

Sweetie Belle nodded her head excitedly. How could she forget such a spectacle?

“Excellent. Figure out how they did everything. And do recall that they only used first year spells from Princess Celestia’s school.”

Sweetie Belle raised a hoof. After being told that she didn’t have to do that, she asked the obvious question. “What spells does the curriculum consist of?”

“Who knows?” Index replied with a grin that said she knew. “You already have all the tools you need to complete this assignment without me giving you that information. You’re free to ask for help from anyone you wish otherwise, however.”

Her face scrunched into a thoughtful frown, Sweetie Belle considered how to approach the problem. She ultimately just needed to talk to somepony who’d been to the school to find out what spells she had to work with. No, even simpler than that, she only needed to get her hooves on a copy of the textbooks the school used – particularly the ones used during the time when Trixie attended the school. She doubted the Golden Oak Library had them, and she didn’t know how old Trixie was either. She supposed she could just ask Trixie, but that felt too much like just asking Index and obviating the point of the exercise. What she really needed was a contact in Canterlot.

Except she had one of those, didn’t she? Two, actually, both of whom were probably capable of getting her the information she needed. It would be a pain to write it all down, but perhaps they wouldn’t have to. “Index? Can the flame sending spell send more than letters?”

Index kept her face carefully blank. “Before I answer that, I want to point out two things. First, ‘can I do X’ is always a good question to ask. Second, when you don’t know, the next question to ask should usually be ‘is it safe to do X’. Magic is very dangerous if mishandled. Do you understand?”

Sweetie Belle nodded. She’d never hurt herself or her friends with it, but she could easily imagine ways in which she could.

“Then to answer your question, the flame sending spell can send anything dragonfire can burn. That does not include magic in general. I want to be very clear on this, because you would not be the first clever student to try it. The flame sending spell is not a clunky way to teleport. If you cast it on something living and magical, the subject will die. This includes, as far as I’m aware, everything that can talk. Understood?”

Nodding solemnly, Sweetie Belle tried not to think about the first clever student who’d not had that warning or who’d disregarded it. The beginnings of a Pinkie Promise had just passed her lips when Index snapped her mouth closed.

“Don’t.” Index pursed her lips, her thoughts galloping in another language. “Sweetie Belle, this… This isn’t something I wanted to mention so soon, but I have enemies beyond Princess Luna. There are less harmful and more efficient ways to defend yourself, but if you’re desperate…”

Sweetie Belle swallowed. She understood Index perfectly. Rather than letting either of them dwell on it, she nodded her head with all the weight the moment deserved and then pressed on. She’d already gotten the information she’d needed for her assignment anyway. “So who are the other bearers?”

Their names flashed through Index’s mind in an instant. In addition to the two of them, Pinkie and Lyra had an Element as well.

“Pinkie Pie has Kindness. Lyra has Honesty,” Index clarified. “I haven’t found bearers for Laughter and Loyalty yet.”

When Sweetie Belle asked why not, Index briefly summarized her time in Ponyville and how she’d spent it looking for suitable bearers. It was, by and large, the tale of a mare who felt out of place and was far outside her comfort zone.

“Can’t you just nudge everypony with the Elements and take whoever you get?”

Index didn’t respond for a few seconds, although her thoughts were not silent. “The idea had occurred to me when this all started, but I think I’ve been so overwhelmed by the social aspect of this that I forgot. I might just try my preferences first tomorrow and then brute force Laughter’s and Loyalty’s awakenings if that doesn’t work.”

“Ooh! You could try–”

“No foals,” Index said. “It’s bad enough I put you in the line of fire.”

Sweetie Belle pouted but didn’t argue. Grown ups were always like that, and they never changed their minds. Then as her own thoughts wandered back to her assignment while Index’s likely considered who to test tomorrow, she recalled something she’d forgotten to ask. “Hey, Index? What Element do you have?”

A smirk grew on Index’s face. “Why, the best one for a sorceress such as myself, of course: Magic.”

Oh, that was so not fair!





Moon Dancer’s head snapped toward the pull of a rare magic so powerful and ancient, it swept past all of the castle’s defenses and even the extra ones Twilight had layered upon her tower. Her grip on the documents she’d been looking for faded away. Her hooves led her toward the stairs. Her chest felt heavy, each breath coming with more effort, and silent tears fell from her eyes.

As she climbed, Moon Dancer felt the magic’s grip on her strengthen. It clawed at her heart, drowning her under the dizzying weight of feelings not her own. When she reached the highest floor, she trudged her way to a window to stare soulfully up at the moon. The faint sound of music carried on the wind, a haunting melody of strings.

Moon Dancer rose her own voice to the sky and joined the heartsong in full. Despite the lump in her throat, despite her utter lack of training, it sounded out pitch-perfect and crystal clear. The words came unbidden but known as surely as she knew her own name, and she knew at once who was at the center of this heartsong. Who else but Princess Celestia would sing a soul-crushing lullaby to Princess Luna in Old Ponish?

The song carried on for ages long past when Moon Dancer’s trembling legs should have given out on her. But at long last, the song ended. The music faded. She collapsed onto her barrel. She’d never been caught up in a heartsong before, but they weren’t supposed to be so raw, were they? If so, her books had not prepared her for them.

Moon Dancer turned her tired body up to scan the sky. A tiny speck of white moving too fast against the night’s darkness to be a star stuck out to her. It slowed until it ultimately came to a rest behind a cloud.

Groaning as she did, Moon Dancer rose to her hooves. This is the real reason Twilight brought you here, she reminded herself. Get moving.

The cloudwalking spell required little power or training, but getting to Princess Celestia’s elevation without wings would be more of a challenge. Moon Dancer didn’t often have cause to push herself so far, but it should be well within her capabilities. After adding a few extra spells to protect her from the wind and temperature, she summoned up her magic and teleported into the sky. Her aim was a little off, but a slightly startled Princess Celestia caught her and deposited her on the same cloud before she started to fall.

Princess Celestia said nothing, but she offered a soft, apologetic smile before returning her gaze to the moon.

“Are you…okay?”

“Of course.” It was an obvious lie, but Princess Celestia didn’t really seem to be entirely here right now.

Moon Dancer hesitated to push. What was she supposed to say to somepony older than she could trace her own ancestry back? What would Twilight do in this situation? The major trouble with that question, however, was she imagined Twilight asked herself a similar one in these sorts of situations.

“Princess,” Moon Dancer hesitantly began, “that song…”

“Hmm?” A blink, then another, a third, and then finally Princess Celestia’s attention returned to this world. “Oh yes. Call it a bout of nostalgia. I used to sing to her.”

Moon Dancer didn’t need to ask who she was, just as she knew very well that such passive emotions never gave birth to heartsongs so wrought with grief and regret. “According to–”

“Your concern does you credit, my little pony, but it was merely an old song I remembered. Nothing more.”

There may have been politer ways to tell Moon Dancer to mind her own business, but she had trouble thinking of any right now. Maybe that hadn’t been the right approach to take. Twilight could probably get away with it and even make it work, but not her. She didn’t have the prerequisite bond with the princess or even the most basic knowledge of what it was like to have a sibling.

Moon Dancer settled onto her rear with her arms extended to prop up the rest of her body. What good was she doing here? She should just call Twilight back to Canterlot for the night. Or maybe Princess Cadance could serve as a substitute? She and Princess Celestia did seem to be on very good terms with one another.

“It’s time I turn in for the night,” Princess Celestia suddenly declared. “Do try to get to bed yourself at a somewhat decent hour. You never know what surprises await you in your dreams.”

That last remark felt like it had a deeper significance to it, but Moon Dancer didn’t have the chance to ask before Princess Celestia allowed herself to sink through the cloud. The telltale heavy sound of air meeting wings came soon after. When she leaned over the edge of the cloud, Moon Dancer found the princess gliding down toward the balcony of her chambers at a sluggish pace that would barely keep her airborne.

Twilight, this isn’t working. I can do paperwork and keep her mind off of other things during the day, but I can’t pull her out of a depression that deep. She needs you, not some two-bit stand-in.

Moon Dancer silently turned her eyes up to the moon and wondered how, even if Twilight succeeded in her task, this story would have a happy ending.





In the library of her dreams, Twilight hummed a cheery little song whose words she couldn’t remember as she worked on a long-term lesson plan for Sweetie Belle. They wouldn’t have much time before the solstice for much of anything, but it always paid to be prepared. Afterward, she would need to find a way to make more free time for herself to give Sweetie Belle the attention she deserved.

Perhaps even with Honesty in play and the bargaining power it gave her, Lyra could still be convinced to take on some work. She had the necessary experience, and Bon Bon – Sweetie Drops – whatever she wanted to go by, had all but said Lyra needed the income, never mind the relationship between those two which Twilight was totally not thinking about right now because it would ruin her mood. She could send Lyra out with some of the other misfits who’d sincerely asked for a second chance over the years as an elite team in her place whenever Sweetie Belle needed her. And maybe a few times when she just wanted some extra time to herself as well.

“You seem unusually merry tonight,” Luna observed as she entered the library. “Did something good happen?”

Twilight finished the last of a list she’d been making with a flourish of her quill. “I acquired a brilliant little protégé for myself,” she all but sang. “And if you touch her, I will destroy you.”

Luna laughed, but Twilight had meant every word, and she probably knew that as well. She certainly knew Twilight could follow through on the threat, at least. “You needn’t worry. I understand the feeling. Although I never took you for the teaching type.”

“It depends on who you’re teaching,” Twilight countered.

“Verily so.” Luna’s tone was bittersweet. “My last student wished for more than I could give. A misstep of mine, I fear, for I knew the chief failing of her character yet tripped over it regardless. I hope to reconcile with her upon my return, but…”

Twilight snorted, more amused than she probably should be. Sounds like Luna has a Sunset of her own. “You and Celestia…” was all she said, shaking her head. I swear, if I unleash a third Sunset into the world…

“Yes, Sunset Shimmer. I’ve heard her tale and cannot say I don’t sympathize.”

Then you should have no problem letting her have the Crystal Empire. Twilight kept that to herself for now, of course. She wasn’t yet sure how she felt about that prospect. Sunset would be a competent ruler, she knew, and at worst a nominal ally regardless of whether Luna won or lost. It would keep Cadance, Shining, and Flurry in Equestria as well, which would likely be a better division of pony resources regardless of her own personal desires. She really shouldn’t make that sort of decision unilaterally, but Celestia had more or less ceded Equestria to her over the past few weeks. Technicalities, sure, and selfish, undoubtedly, but she wanted to keep her family close. Besides, it wasn’t like they were likely to want to go rule over some place they’d never heard of anyway.

“Let us not dwell on such things,” Luna said as she emerged from her own thoughts first. “Everyone is downstairs waiting for you to join your dreamwarming party.”

Oh yeah, that’s a thing. Twilight was in too good a mood to care. “Lead on, then.”
> Chapter Twelve - The Great Bearer Hunt
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’d been the perfect distraction. As far as anypony knew, she’d never stepped foot in the empire during the battle.





The dreamwarming party was in full swing, if a small, quiet gathering of six people could be termed as such. They’d ended up playing a homebrew version of a diplomacy and conquest board game which, although it’d turned into a six hour long waste of time they didn’t even finish before Berry Punch woke up but would continue the next night if Twilight had anything to say about it, had nonetheless managed to suck her into analyzing her every move and overall strategy. People who didn’t play to win were filth.

Down one member, the group had set the game aside and descended into casual chatting. Twilight just sat quietly and listened for the most part, politely answering whatever questions came her way and then effortlessly deflecting conversation back onto someone else. She had a lot of experience enforcing her wallflower status and happily continued her craft.

Or she had until Autumn had insisted on playing charades. Twilight glared at the card held in her magic with a gaze that could set it on fire if she wanted. She knew someone – probably Autumn, maybe Luna – had stacked the deck. This could not be coincidence. “Absolutely not,” she said as she put the card down.

Ember, of course, threw her hand over the deck when Twilight attempted to draw a new card. “Hey! I didn’t object when I got pronking, and I’m physically incapable of it.”

“Fair’s fair,” Seabreeze said, a smirk crawling up his face.

A glance at Luna and Autumn revealed equally eager expressions, neither giving away who’d put this trial before her. Unless they conspired together. Sighing, Twilight trudged out away from the group to take her turn. She lit up her horn, taking her entire body in her magical grasp.

“No magic!” Autumn protested. “We all agreed on that.”

Twilight couldn’t help the irritated snort that slipped out of her, but that only made her audience more determined. Thus resigned to her fate, she proceeded to humiliate herself. After thirty seconds of increasingly embarrassing guesses ranging from swimming to hypnotism, time ran out. No one got a point. She went back to her seat to sulk.

“Well, what was it?” Seabreeze asked.

Twilight didn’t answer and instead flung the card at him. Being a flimsy piece of laminated paper, it didn’t fly very well, and a stray fluctuation of air sent it careening toward Luna instead. She picked it up, read it, and then snickered. “Really, Twilight, surely my sister arranged for you to learn–”

“That’s none of your business.”

Autumn leaned over to read the card. “Oh. When you told me you don’t–”

“I’m magically coordinated, okay?” Twilight interjected. “I don’t need – dexterity is my dump stat.” Those were terms this group could understand.

“Let me see already.” Ember plucked the card from Autumn’s magic. “Dancing? You call that dancing?”

Twilight said nothing, which may have been a mistake, because Autumn answered for her. “I always thought she was just making excuses when she told me her dancing is a hazard to herself and others.”

With a harrumph, Twilight turned to lean into her seat so she could stare into the fascinating embroidered pattern of the cloth in its corner. She did recall saying something to that effect all those years ago.

The game continued until only Twilight and Luna remained asleep, as had already become routine. Luna never woke, it seemed, and Twilight went to bed later than everyone else.

“What?” Twilight asked when she noticed Luna staring at her with a smirk.

“Your dancing.”

Of course she’s still on about that. Twilight didn’t know what she’d expected. She’d heard little snickers and had been on the receiving end of amused looks ever since. “If you’re just going to make fun of me, you can leave.”

“Well,” Luna began with drawl, “there shall certainly be some teasing from time to time. It is irresistible, truly. But if all you need is a more–” She snickered. “–durable partner, I would volunteer to teach you.”

Twilight flatly refused with a, “No thanks.” She’d suffered enough indignities for one night already. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you tell me your story instead?”

“My story?” By the reluctant tone of her voice, Luna knew exactly what Twilight meant. Nonetheless, she waited for clarification.

“Yes, your story. How you got here. You and Celestia obviously stopped talking to each other at some point, so I want to compare notes with her side of the story.”

Luna scoffed at the request. “What point is there? You’ll not believe a word I say which runs counter to my all-knowing and infinitely benevolent sister’s.”

“Probably,” Twilight admitted openly and without hesitation. It was true, after all, and they both knew it. “But that doesn’t make what you believe any less important.”

Luna regarded Twilight warily. “I’m quite certain I already told you I went through therapy.”

“So?”

Neither said a word. While Luna scrutinized Twilight, now more alert than she had been the entire night, Twilight merely sat in place with conjured parchment and a quill made from her own feather at the ready. She held no delusions of being able to convince Luna to abandon her plans. That wasn’t the point of Twilight’s own backup plan. She was merely the bridge. If she could only get the sisters to talk to each other again – to, not just at – then perhaps this entire conflict could end amicably. Knowing Luna’s story was the first step to making that happen.

Luna finally relented. “Very well,” she said as she rose to her hooves. “I shall return shortly.” With those parting words, she trotted to the exit and left the dream behind. She returned a few minutes later with a book wrapped up in an arm and held tight against her chest. “Your word, Twilight Sparkle, that you will not read this without permission if you awaken before I return it to my own dreamscape.”

As far as temptations went, a likely centuries old book penned by a lost princess rated pretty high. Nonetheless, Twilight said, “Of course.”

Luna relaxed a little and let the book fall into her magic. It split open, and as she took the seat across from Twilight, the pages turned until she found whatever entry she wanted. “Alicorn memory is exceptional,” she began, “but even we are not immune to…reimaginings. Where do you wish to start?”

“Hmm…” If Twilight remembered correctly, Celestia had started with what Sombra did to Luna but had kind of glossed over the details. That could use some elaboration. “Tell me about Sombra.”

“A unicorn stallion with a brilliant mind he doesn’t deserve. He dabbled in the vilest of ancient magics and used them to wrest control of the Crystal Empire from my niece’s line through dubiously legal methods. By all accounts, he was a fair and just ruler on the surface. It wasn’t until near his fall that we learned of his true nature. He possesses a minor form of immortality. Although he still ages, presumably, he’s able to survive the destruction, for lack of a better word, of his body. Due to this, my sister and I banished him until we could better learn how to contain or execute him. We unfortunately never found his research notes, and the cumberworld managed to take the empire with him.”

While all that was interesting information, Twilight was distinctly unimpressed with the evasion and let Luna know it. She also made a note to research Sombra’s secrets if she had the chance. She didn’t expect them to advance her own pursuits, but one never knew what might help in the end.

Luna kept her face carefully blank as she flipped through her book. “I ask that you not judge me overly harshly. Sombra’s machinations against me were meticulous and crafted with care to avoid the Elements’ interference.”

“If what Celestia told me is true,” Twilight began, “I hardly hold you accountable for whatever you did.”

A tired sigh slipped past Luna’s lips. “It’s not so much what I did as what I intended to do.” She managed a weak smile. “But thank you. I doubt our accounts of this affair shall differ in anything but perspective.”

After a quick read through of several passages in her book, Luna nodded her head and returned back to where she’d begun. “I will not go into how, but Sombra managed to cast a bastardized version of a spell Discord was overly fond of on me. His intention, as we later learned, was to incite a conflict between my sister and I so he could appear when we’d worn each other out to ‘save’ the world from us and claim Equestria for himself.”

Twilight gagged. “Villains with good publicity are the worst.”

“Agreed. The enchantment he laid upon me caused me to grow more aggressive with Equestrian expansion. All the better for him in the end. It was a slow process, but it was only a matter of time before Sister and I butted heads. Equestria’s velvet glove could not abide its iron hoof acting unchecked. Nor would she have been wrong to stand in my way. It was a different time when Tartarus lay empty and might too often made right, yet even then, my policies were hard to justify and approaching inexcusable.

“Fortunately, an unrelated encounter with a magical artifact led me to ask Sister to perform a full examination of myself. The sort you bring snacks to. I imagine she still believes I found Sombra’s spell rather than it being a happy accident.” Luna narrowed her eyes and peered over the top of her book. “You’ll not correct that belief, I trust.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. As telling Celestia wouldn’t absolve her of whatever guilt she felt over the matter, Twilight merely made a small note to add it to her collection of friendly blackmail material.

“After we removed the spell, we moved to dispose of Sombra. You already know how that turned out.” Luna flipped forward past a good number of pages. “Once we returned home, I voluntarily ceded my throne to a trustworthy regent for a few years to rehabilitate myself.” Her eyes stared at nothing as nostalgia took her. “That was a fun time. Sister was most jealous.”

But Luna’s good mood soon darkened. “When I returned to Everfree and retook my throne, Sister had changed. I didn’t realize until it was too late, but she’d enjoyed her time as a monarch too much. She pushed me into the background while she basked in the love of our nation.”

Twilight briefly paused in her note-taking. This, she suspected, was the root of the royal sisters’ problems, the most fundamental misunderstanding between them. It wouldn’t be hard to explain Luna’s point of view to Celestia, but getting Luna to believe Celestia’s would be a far greater feat.

“I did all of the hard work while she sat behind a desk upon her cushions, received all the adulation, and left me to be forgotten,” Luna continued with rising passion. “We used to hold court together. We used to attend meetings together. We used to do everything together. But no longer! We held separate courts. Nearly all business went through hers. We went to separate appointments. She got foreign relations and fluff while I had to figure out how to–”





That, Twilight assumed, has to be the worst time I could have awoken. She sighed and snuggled tighter into her blankets. If she wanted to, she could put herself back to sleep. She’d gotten what she needed from that conversation, more or less, but she’d hoped to obtain more details. Alas, she had a job to do and an ever shrinking window of time in which to do it. She’d just have to hear the rest of Luna’s side of the story the next time they were alone together.

“Pinkie, you there?”

As might be expected for somepony who had a job with presumably regular hours, Pinkie Pie didn’t answer. But perhaps something more ridiculous might work.

“Pinkamena Diane Pie, I summon thee by thy true name.”

Twilight clicked her tongue. She hadn’t honestly expected that to work, but some little part of her had hoped. While she was tempted to just use magic to divine Pinkie Pie’s location, that would involve an awful lot of invasion of privacy for basically no reason. Indeed, after she got ready for the day and made her way downstairs, she found the subject of her inquiry baking cupcakes in Sugarcube Corner’s kitchen.

“Good morning, Pinkie.” Twilight glanced at Kindness around her neck but didn’t comment. When offered a spoonful of batter, however enticing it sounded, she declined but accepted a properly cooked cupcake in its place. Huh. This is actually really good. In another life, perhaps Pinkie would have been a full-time baker.

After Twilight swallowed the last of her breakfast and, in her weakness, began an early second breakfast, she said, “Hey, Pinkie, don’t start…” No, that’s not the right way to approach this. Never mind that Pinkie Pie technically worked for her way down the governmental hierarchy, friends didn’t demand things of each other. “I would appreciate your help today searching for a bearer for Laughter and Loyalty. You have a much better memory for ponies than I do.”

“Oh my gosh! Really? That sounds super fun!” In a blink, Pinkie Pie went from excited to contemplative, tapping a hoof against her jaw. “But I’m, like, waaaay behind on my parties with all these new ponies flooding into Ponyville lately. I don’t know if I can give you the whole day. Ooh! Unless you can magic up some way for me to be in more than one place at once, because that would solve so many of my problems. Can you do that?”

It was technically possible. And Pinkie Pie might actually have the brainpower necessary to divide her attention the way Twilight did when – No, one Pinkie Pie is enough for this world. Twilight evaded answering the question with an observation. “If you’re already behind on parties, it’s only going to get worse as the influx increases. And they are coming here specifically to party on the solstice, you know.”

“I guess…” was Pinkie Pie’s unenthused response.

Twilight considered making a joke about getting to spend all day with her instead as a consolation prize, but it stung a little too hard.

“We’ll just have to find bearers as fast as we can, then!”

Shrugging, Twilight said, “Whatever you want to do with your day once we finish.” She doubted she would be good company after such a long, tedious day of work. She would assemble all six bearers tomorrow after she’d had a night to, well, not relax, precisely, but she didn’t hate or even dislike the nights she spent with Luna and her friends. She just normally had more important things to be doing than playing games.

Pinkie Pie hummed in thought as the alien thought process in her mind turned. “Let’s see… I can take Laughter, and we can give Loyalty to Rainbow Dash. I’m sure it’ll like her. Her story is all about loyalty to ponies she takes under her wing.”

For a moment, Twilight just stared. Then she blinked. “You can take Laughter?”

“That’s what I said. Don’t tell me you have cupcake in your ears.” Pinkie Pie reached over the counter and, in an impressive display of sleight of hoof, withdrew one from behind Twilight’s ear. “There. All better now.”

Disregarding that, Twilight let out a relieved sigh. She’d really dodged a spell there. It’s a good thing Pinkie Pie is too weird for the call to affect her properly. “So I have no idea who Rainbow Dash is” – although the name did evoke images of her encounter at the local library – “but I want one Element per pony to achieve their maximum strength. Which means no Laughter for you.”

“Hmm…” Pinkie Pie stared at Twilight with narrowed eyes. She ran a hoof under her jaw with exaggerated motions and varied her humming, all while she continued to finish whatever baking project she was engaged in.

A little perturbed under the scrutiny, Twilight said nothing.

Pinkie Pie then returned to her usual overly energetic self. “Okie dokie! Then I met this Cheese Sandwich pony once, and let me tell you, he was a character. We could give it to him instead.”

Twilight quirked an eyebrow. Pinkie Pie was in no position to throw stones. Regardless, she said, “I’d like to give the Elements to ponies living in Ponyville if possible, then visitors, then we can expand the search. We can start with a list of preferred locals, but if they don’t work out, we’ll just brute force awaken the Elements. I’d like to get this done today. Just give me a heads up if any of our current bearers are at odds with anypony we intend to test.” On the off chance Pinkie Pie didn’t already know the general social dynamics of the entire village, Kindness would fill in the gaps for her.

“Yes, Ma’am!” Pinkie Pie saluted with a wooden spoon covered in oozing batter.

As much as Twilight wanted to start right away and just get this labor done and over with, she refrained from pushing and instead asked, “How much longer until you’re free?”





“Don’t shift that one yet, Big Mac!”

The stallion in question froze at Apple Bloom’s cry and glanced over toward a pile of rubble that used to be the remains of the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ clubhouse. “Eeyup,” he said, nodding. Then, finding a safer beam to remove first, he returned to his work.

Apple Bloom let out a sigh of relief. “Be more careful, Big Mac. I know the weight wouldn’t of hurt ya, but the wreckage is awful sharp.”

“Hey now, don’t be scolding your brother like that, ya hear?”

Apple Bloom grit her teeth but didn’t otherwise respond to her sister’s rebuke. Sure, her family could scold her all they wanted whenever she did something even the tiniest bit wrong, and all would be right in the world, but the moment she opened her mouth, it became unacceptable. Grown-ups weren’t fair.

Or maybe it would be more accurate to say life wasn’t fair. As Apple Bloom hauled off some more of the wreckage herself, she spotted Scootaloo lazing around on a small cloud in the sky. From the look of it, she’d fallen asleep on the job when she was supposed to be removing debris from the branches of their clubhouse’s tree.

Setting down her load, Apple Bloom bucked a nearby tree and received an apple for her effort, the perfect ammunition for waking a lazy sack of bones. But she noticed, just as she was about to throw it, that Scootaloo’s cloud had moved despite an utter lack of wind. She stopped to watch it for a few seconds, and its drift gained a little speed.

That can’t be natural. Curious, Apple Bloom’s eyes followed the cloud’s direction of travel out into the orchard. She caught a glint of pale green light amongst the trees. Sweetie Belle. Whatever was up must be important if she was sneaking around like this instead of just coming out into the open. Maybe Index caught her and she ran away?

Whatever was wrong, the Cutie Mark Crusaders stuck together. Apple Bloom snuck off when she had the chance, dodging the eyes of every Apple helping to haul off the ruined clubhouse to slip behind a tree. She carefully moved through the orchard unseen toward Sweetie Belle. When she got closer, she noticed a well-fitted necklace wrapped around her friend’s neck with a familiar purple gem inset. She had so many questions now.

As Apple Bloom approached, she opened her mouth to unleash her first question, but Sweetie Belle spoke first.

“It’s called the Element of Generosity. Yes, it came from the sphere. Yes, Index knows it bonded with me. We spoke already. She gave me a potion recipe and a few already brewed doses to help me tolerate its side effects. I would appreciate your help learning to prepare it myself. As for the secrecy, it has to do with the side effects of Generosity. My brain is still in the process of adapting to it. And yes, I am reading your mind.”

Apple Bloom blinked. Her mouth hung open.

“A lot happened yesterday,” Sweetie Belle added.

“I’ll say.”

By mutual agreement, once they had Scootaloo safely down from her cloud, they carried her off draped across both their backs without waking her. They discussed what prank they should play on her to repay her hard work on their clubhouse, but she unfortunately woke up in the middle of their planning to pretend she’d slipped into an alternate dimension where everypony was evil. She had tried to feign sleep, but Sweetie Belle could read minds now, apparently, and there wasn’t much a pony could do to hide from that.

Soon enough, the trio found a quiet, out of the way corner of Sweet Apple Acres where they wouldn’t be disturbed.

“I have news!” Sweetie Belle, far too excited to stand still, hopped in place. With her pitch an octave or two higher than it should be, she revealed, “Index made me her protégé!”

“Whoa!” Apple Bloom sure hadn’t seen that coming. Honestly, she’d expected Sweetie Belle to go on about how she’d met the archmage.

“Get out!” Scootaloo hoof bumped with Sweetie Belle. “That’s awesome!”

Breaking the actual news hadn’t done much to calm Sweetie Belle down, but she at least managed to not act like Winona with a new chew toy anymore. “I’m going to learn so much! And I’m going to get to meet Spike, Flurry, and Ocellus in person!”

Scootaloo asked the obvious question. “Who’s Ocellus?”

“Oh! I forgot to – oh, I just have so much to tell you two!” Sweetie Belle stopped to take a moment to just breathe and calm down a smidge. “I had a favor to ask Spike and Flurry for an assignment Index gave me. They sent me the information I asked for along with another letter introducing me to Ocellus. They met her recently. She’s a foreign princess living in Equestria.”

With that being the second princess they knew now, Apple Bloom reacted more sedately than the situation probably warranted. “Where from?”

Sweetie Belle frowned slightly. “I don’t know. They forgot to mention, and Rarity didn’t know either.”

“Rarity didn’t know?” Scootaloo said. “Must be from somewhere nopony has ever heard of.”

“Scoots!” Apple Bloom swatted Scootaloo’s arm with a hoof. “That ain’t polite.”

As she rubbed her arm, Scootaloo muttered, “Yeah, yeah. Still true.”

Apple Bloom gave Scootaloo a pointed look before turning her attention back to Sweetie Belle. “So any chance Scoots and I can meet Spike and the princesses too?”

“Of course! Rarity said that I–” A sudden sadness swept over Sweetie Belle. Where she once had been all smiles and full of energy, eager to share, now she was reticent and pensive. “Oh. I’ve not yet told you. Girls, for my magical studies, I…” Her gaze fell to her hooves. “Rarity and I are moving to Canterlot after the Summer Sun Celebration.”

Well, wasn’t that just a sour apple in a barrel?

“Wait. You’re moving to Canterlot as well?”

Scootaloo, as confused as Apple Bloom, uttered a simple, “Huh?”

“You said…” Sweetie Belle’s eyes widened. “Oh dear. I’m sorry. Sometimes I have trouble distinguishing between thoughts and spoken words.”

Although she was still shocked to learn that both of her friends were moving away – together, she might add – Apple Bloom filled in the confused party. “Sweetie Belle gained the power to read minds sometime between now and last afternoon.”

Scootaloo turned to Sweetie Belle, who nodded.

“But it’s true, ain’t it, what she said?”

After a moment, Scootaloo said, “Yeah, I… Maybe. I don’t know.” She ran one hoof along its opposite arm. “I think so. There’s this new school for gifted pegasi Flurry’s mom is forcing Rainbow Dash to teach at. I’m invited to attend, and if I want to keep learning from her…”

“You should go,” Apple Bloom insisted. Scootaloo needed the lessons Rainbow Dash provided her in ways Sweetie Belle didn’t need Index’s. There really was no decision to be made.

“I know. I know.” Scootaloo bit her lip. “It’s just… Look at me!” She spread her dwarf wings wide. “I’m not exactly a gifted pegasus, now am I? I can’t even fly.”

Sweetie Belle stepped forward. She placed a hoof on Scootaloo’s shoulder and waited until their eyes met. “Scootaloo,” she said earnestly, “you’re awesome.”

The filly in question managed a weak smirk.

“You’re not just a bribe to get Rainbow Dash to accept the position,” Sweetie Belle continued. “You can do things most pegasi never even think to try. Not because they don’t ‘need the crutch’ but because they’re dreadfully boring and uninspired.”

Whatever response Scootaloo had cooking in her head, it clearly didn’t satisfy Sweetie Belle.

“Hmph. You know that’s not true. Do you believe Index took me on as her protégé just because she needs me to defeat Nightmare Moon?”

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo fell dead silent. The latter hesitantly replied, “No?” She drew the word out and laced it with the same level of confusion and caution that Apple Bloom felt. With all of the changes going on lately, it didn’t seem beyond the realm of possibility for Nightmare Moon herself to show up.

“Oops. I was supposed to get you to Pinkie Promise not to tell anypony before I told you about that.”

As there was no way they would be left out of the loop on something so monumental, both Apple Bloom and Scootaloo so swore not to tell anypony anything. With that out of the way, Sweetie Belle told them about the Elements of Harmony and Generosity. Then she explained that Nightmare Moon was actually Princess Celestia’s sister, due to return to Equestria after a thousand years of banishment. By the time she finished fully recounting her conversations with both Index and Rarity about the subject while fielding questions, at least an hour had passed.

“And that’s everything I know,” Sweetie Belle finished. “Index said I have the day free, but after that, I’ll need to spend much of my time with the other bearers.”

While Apple Bloom was feeling more than a mite uncomfortable that her friends were moving on to bigger and better things without her, she kept her thoughts from straying. “I reckon we should make today count, then.” If it were to be the last proper day they had together for only Celestia knew how long, they had to make the most of it. “So what are we going to do?”

“We should–” Scootaloo started, but then her excitement dipped as she fumbled for an answer. “You know, I’ve been so busy with what’s happening with Rainbow Dash that I kinda forgot to even give it a thought.”

“And Rarity and Index have kept me busy.”

With regret, Apple Bloom added, “And I’ve been seeing to the clubhouse…” Not that that was really important anymore with the ponies she shared it with moving away.

“What a downer.” Scootaloo’s low spirits were easy for anypony to hear in her voice.

“We could exchange letters with our friends in Canterlot,” Sweetie Belle suggested. After a moment, she added a very poignant, “Together.”

Soon it would be their friend in Ponyville. Apple Bloom pushed the thought from her mind, but by the sad look Sweetie Belle gave her, she knew it hadn’t passed unnoticed. “I like the idea,” she said, and she did.

“Sounds good,” Scootaloo agreed.

Sweetie Belle nodded. “Shall we?”

“All right then, on three,” Scootaloo said. “One.”

“Two,” Sweetie Belle counted.

“Three.”

“Cutie Mark Crusaders, letter writers! Yay!”





“Pinkie…how much of Ponyville have we covered?”

From her position as their untested pony spotter on the roof just behind where Twilight sat, Pinkie Pie replied, “Five hundred and sixty-three ponies down. Only one thousand and forty-one left.”

Twilight heaved an exhausted sigh. This was just as agonizingly tedious as she’d expected. Invisible and undetected to all but each other, she bumped the similarly concealed Laughter and Loyalty up against the next pony Pinkie Pie pointed out. They’d not found Rainbow Dash in Ponyville, and none of the other ponies on either of their lists of possibilities and preferences had panned out, unfortunately. And neither did the latest stallion she’d tested.

“Plus one, minus one,” Pinkie Pie unhelpfully said.

“Yes, thank you. I got that.”

“And seven with your mane style,” Pinkie Pie added with a giggle.

“Yes, thank you, Pinkie. I got that.”





Rainbow Dash stood at the Canterlot train station, her one small bag having already been sent ahead to the castle by the train attendants. It would have been faster to fly to Canterlot, but how often did a mare get a chance to ride in the royal car and mooch off the princess trying – and succeeding – to ruin her life?

The capital was a lot more impressive flying through it than looking up on it from Ponyville or down from Cloudsdale whenever the city drew near. With the altitude and the cooler temperatures that came with it, it even felt a little like home. Not that she could ignore the glaring differences. Everything was make of glass, stone, and metal instead of mostly cloud, for one. Then there was how stationary and landbound it all was. And the ponies were all stuck-up unicorns who wouldn’t give a mare the time of day unless she had more bits than she knew what to do with or a fancy title.

On her way through the city, a place where nopony knew her, Rainbow Dash had been sorely tempted to stop by a bookstore and see which of her favorite authors had a new book out. The Golden Oak Library, small town library that it was, always lagged behind on new releases. The only exceptions were the most popular series like Daring Do and the junk Rhyme the librarian liked to read.

But that was part of why she was here to begin with. To avoid tempting fate, Rainbow Dash flew straight for the castle. If she made the detour, she’d probably bump into a friend or an old rival. Maybe Gilda. She hadn’t heard from her griffon friend in forever, not since that ridiculous ‘war’ the archmage had put a quick end to. She didn’t need that drama on top of whatever Princess Cadance had in store for her.

At the castle gate, as instructed, Rainbow Dash gave her name to one of the guards. He led her inside and passed her off to another, who then led her deeper into the castle. Attempts at small talk with her guide were met with short, gruff answers, and they soon fell into silence as they walked. The palace was more or less everything Rarity had ever droned on about, or at least the parts of what she’d said that Rainbow Dash could remember were. Lots of art and ritzy stuff decorated the corridors, but nothing really all that interesting. She’d have to get used to it, though. She was going to be around it all the time soon enough.

After a long walk through the busy castle corridors, they finally arrived at a quieter area with less hoof traffic. Two guards stood sentry outside a door, and it was to them that Rainbow Dash was being led. A couple terse nods passed between the three guards, after which they opened the door for her to pass through. Once inside, they closed it behind her.

The room itself was a relatively modestly decorated meeting room with a fancy table surrounded by a half-dozen chairs in the middle. Rainbow Dash had seen more elaborate and overt displays of wealth in her life, but then a princess didn’t need to show off for everypony to know she was both loaded and powerful.

But perhaps this was all a mistake. On the opposite end of the room sat a pink pegasus filly and a purple baby dragon, both looking a little younger than Scootaloo. They sat atop cushions on their chairs to be able to actually peer over the top of the table without looking completely ridiculous.

“I think I’m in the wrong room,” Rainbow Dash said as she turned to leave.

“I don’t think so,” the pink filly said. “You are Rainbow Dash, correct?”

Said mare turned back from the door to eye the filly questioningly. “Yes?”

“Then I’m glad you could make it. We have much to speak of.”

Sure they did. “I’m here to see Princess Cadance, kid.”

“Yes,” the filly said, “and as I said, we have much to speak of.”

Rainbow Dash hesitated before turning back to face what was apparently Princess Cadance. “Aren’t you supposed be older?” There were a lot of things wrong with this situation, but that detail stuck out the most.

The supposed Princess Cadance cleared her throat. “Yes, well, Shiny and I” – she gestured to the dragon next to her – “played a little prank on Twi. She got us back by swapping our appearances with the next generation. Without his horn, Shiny can’t turn us back, so we have to wait for the spell to wear off. But it was totally worth it. Right, honey?”

The dragon, apparently Prince Shining, laughed. Slowly at first and then explosively. “Totally worth it, Cadance.”

Princess Cadance leaned over and gave Prince Shining a peck on the cheek. He reacted strongly, hastily retreating from his wife with a huge blush. “Don’t do that!” he cried, wiping his cheek dry.

“Just showing my love, dear. What’s wrong with that?”

Prince Shining seemed at a loss for words before pointing and saying, “You look just like our filly. It’s weird!”

Princess Cadance just giggled elegantly like, well, a princess.

“So is this good enough counter blackmail material to get me off the hook?” Rainbow Dash asked.

After a thoughtful hum, Princess Cadance replied, “Nope, ’fraid not. This would only be endearing if it got out.”

“Horseapples,” Rainbow Dash muttered.

“Language, young filly.”

Rainbow Dash stared stupefied at the pair for a moment before rubbing her forehead with her wings. This was going to be one of those days. She’d already known that, but this really drove it home. “Can we just get on with this?”

“Yes, of course,” Princess Cadance said. “So…what are your credentials?”

What are my – “I think you’ve made it perfectly clear you already know.” This was an involuntary interview. Rainbow Dash refused to sit through the whole regular process.

“Oh! Yes. Of course. Just checking. We wouldn’t want a changeling taking your job after all.”

Prince Shining hissed something into Princess Cadance’s ear.

“Whoops. Forget what I just said.”

“Oh?” It seemed fortune might yet be on Rainbow Dash’s side. “Well, I might be persuaded to keep my silence.” She buffed a hoof against her chest, then held it out nonchalantly to gaze upon its polished shine. “For a price.”

For a moment, Princess Cadance’s eyes showed pure panic and worry, but then they regained their confident, playful gaze. “I see. Well, if you really feel that way, we can call Twi or Princess Celestia here to erase your memory and start this interview over.”

They can do that! Alarmed, Rainbow Dash said, “No, no need. It’s okay. I’ll keep whatever it was secret.”

Just then, the door opened to admit a normal sized and properly colored Princess Cadance with a weary expression plastered on her face. By what the miniature version had said, this would be her daughter, Princess Flurry Heart, aged up and having to deal with, to say nothing of the hormones, all the boring stuff adults had to suffer through.

“Oh no,” Princess Cadance said in muted horror.

“So,” Princess Flurry Heart began, “what state secret have you two given away this time?”

Princess Cadance winced. “Changelings…”

“I see.” Princess Flurry Heart glanced at Rainbow Dash with a calculating eye. “Well, I suppose if your new friend intends to keep visiting, she would have found out through Scootaloo eventually anyway.” Turning back to Rainbow Dash, she said, “The existence of changelings is a classified matter until they’re ready to reveal themselves publicly. I expect you to not to breathe a word on the matter to anypony.”

It clicked, then, that those two foals had pulled a successful switcheroo. Well, two could play at that game. “I understand, Princess. I’m good at keeping secrets. Like how these two just kissed a few minutes ago.”

“You kissed!” the real Princess Cadance squealed.

Not the reaction I expected.

Across the room on the opposite side of the table, the two foals cringed and protested that, “It wasn’t like that!” to their mother slash aunt.

But effective.

“You two are going to have to tell me all about it tonight!

“Mom!” Princess Flurry Heart whined. “It’s not like that!”

“Really, it’s not!” Spike added.

Princess Cadance sighed, “Ah, young love.” A silly grin crept onto her face. “So innocent. I remember my first date with Shiny. He had such a coltish cuteness about him, and he was so nervous.” She emitted a giggle more befitting a mare half her age. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell Twi the good news! She’ll be so happy for you two.”

The moment was interrupted when Spike coughed up a letter of all things with a burst of emerald fire. Despite the oddness of it, Rainbow Dash figured from what Scootaloo had told her that it came from the Crusaders.

“Oh, look, Flurry, we got a letter.” Spike swept it up in his claws and then leapt from his chair. “Gotta go. See ya, Aunt Cadance!”

“Later, Mom!”

And like that, they were out the door.

“Well,” Princess Cadance said with just the slightest hint of a huff. She crossed the room to take the seat abdicated to her. “That was my daughter, Flurry Heart, and my nephew, Spike. I hope whatever they were up to didn’t trouble you.”

“Nah. They pulled a good prank. I got them back in the end.”

Princess Cadance arched an eyebrow. “Oh dear, so it’s treason, then. Well, I had high hopes for you.”

“Yeah, not falling for that.”

A click of the tongue met the answer. “Very well. I doubt introductions are necessary, but I’m Princess Cadance. Just Cadance, please. I only use my ridiculous full name when I absolutely must. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rainbow Dash.”

“Wish I could say the same, Princess.” Barring yesterday’s letter, everything Rainbow Dash had ever heard about her was good.

Princess Cadance offered a slightly apologetic smile. “I regret the need for such a heavy-hoofed approach, but do cheer up. In a decade or two, even the Wonderbolts will find it an honor to fly with you. And this isn’t forever if you don’t want it to be.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Rainbow Dash grumbled. “This is where you stick me in a dress, tie up my mane, and expect me to have an apple on my desk every day.”

“That wouldn’t be very practical. Well, except maybe the mane part, but I don’t really care about that.”

Confused, Rainbow Dash’s first response was a simple, “Huh?”

“You did read my letter, right?”

“Some of it,” Rainbow Dash admitted. She’d never gone back to read through the more threatening sections she’d skipped over.

Princess Cadance shook her head. “The entire point of this is to rethink how we teach our pegasi. Regular classwork and book learning works well for unicorns and, to a reasonable extent, earth ponies, but pegasi need more hooves-on experience.” She hesitated a moment, seemed to mull over what she was about to say, and then added, “Well, my dear little sister would quibble about the benefits of unicorn experimentation, but her foalhood years were…unorthodox.

“Regardless, I digress. My intention is to shift away from unicorn paradigms to one better suited for our tribe. If that means regular flying, throwing lightning around, and sculpting clouds into immature images as foals are wont to do, then so be it.”

That’s…actually kind of awesome. Cautious of revealing too much too soon, Rainbow Dash said, “I always hated school because it kept me from doing all that. Real learning, you know?”

“That’s not entirely fair,” Princess Cadance replied. “There’s a place for history, math, and such in the classroom as well. But I understand your meaning. Before my aunt took her under her wing, Twilight actually withdrew from the school system entirely to pursue her studies on her own terms. Few ponies can do what she did or, I hear, you did when you could, but there are lessons to be learned from you two and applied elsewhere nonetheless.

“And that experience combined with your gifts is precisely why I went to such lengths to summon you here. I’m not an educator. I’m not a prodigy. I have no idea what I’m doing. But you do. You won’t be working alone, of course. I’ve called upon some of the best teachers in Equestria to help make this project a success. What I’m ultimately asking of you is to lead the development of the experimental curriculum and teach the advanced classes. That can be whatever you think is important, within reason, and you can do it however you want so long as it’s safe and you document what you’re doing for future reference. Class sizes will be small at first, so you shouldn’t be overwhelmed.”

Rainbow Dash had to force herself to play it cool. The idea of getting paid to show off all day and teach foals how to be awesome just like her actually had some serious appeal to it. They wouldn’t be the roaring crowds the Wonderbolts drew or even the cheers and gratitude Ponyville sent her way for her heroics, but neither was it the bland deskwork she’d expected. Thus she leaned forward into the table, casually taping a hoof against it’s edge in consideration. “I suppose I might not die of boredom if you’re going to let me just fly around all day.”

Princess Cadance hid a bit of light laughter behind a hoof. “It’s not quite that simple. You’re expected to get results from your lessons. If you don’t, you will have to try a new approach. Not everypony learns in precisely the same way. And do remember that this is a new experiment. We have a lot of upfront work to take care of, and even once that’s out of the way, teachers have a surprising amount of behind the scenes work. Moreover, I can’t tell you what to do because nopony really knows what to do. All I can tell you is what not to do when I see it not working.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rainbow Dash said with a dismissive wave of her hoof. “But you know all about how well Scootaloo has been doing. My methods work just fine.”

“I can only hope so. At any rate, we may ask you to help out with some of the more elementary magic classes–”

“Yeah, sure. Basics are important. Gotta drill that stuff into their heads right when they’re young. No probs there.”

“–but,” Princess Cadance continued, “you can rest assured that we won’t ask you to teach anything else. I’ve seen your transcript.”

Not sure how to respond to the favor and slight wrapped up in one package, Rainbow Dash merely said, “Uh, thanks. I guess.”

“Good. Now I think that takes care of official business for the moment, so we can spend some time just getting to know one another better. Would you care to join the foals and I for dinner? I have this sneaking suspicion that you’ll be seeing a lot more of them in the future. Maybe we could go for a flight afterward to speak some more in private?”

With a shrug, Rainbow Dash said, “Yeah, sure. Sounds fun.”





Twilight and Pinkie Pie stood in the middle of somepony’s home, one which they’d just teleported into more out of convenience than actual need. A family of five were eating an early dinner – or a late lunch – and remained blissfully unaware of the two intruders standing only a room away.

Sighing as neither element reacted to either of the adults in the room, Twilight levitated her map of Ponyville between the two of them once more. “Where to next?”

Pinkie Pie put her hoof on a building two to the west and across the street.

The day was wearing on Twilight both mentally and magically, and she didn’t even want to think of how difficult this would have been without somepony who not only knew everypony in town but also knew where they lived and could remember everypony they’d already tested. At that point, it would have been easier to just open up a pavilion in the center of town and pay everypony a bit to touch the mystery spheres and discover if ‘they’re the chosen one’. As such, she felt it appropriate to say, “You are a treasure.”

“Aw, shucks.” Pinkie Pie kicked a hoof on nothing and knew better than anypony else ever could thanks to Kindness that Twilight really did mean that.

They teleported away, off to commit yet another minor crime that Twilight had no intention of ever telling Celestia about.





Twilight finished testing what she sincerely hoped, by the sheer number of ponies already present, was the entire Apple family minus the foals. Neither Loyalty nor Laughter had reacted to anyone there. They seemed to be rather picky elements. Thus she returned to where Pinkie Pie had sprawled out on her back on the ground. She held the map above her, turning it randomly back and forth. The simple illumination spell Twilight had placed upon it after sunset made it streak about, although only the two of them could see it.

“So?” Twilight asked. “Who’s left?”

With finality, Pinkie Pie pronounced, “Nopony.”

While the job wasn’t over – they’d not found bearers for Loyalty and Laughter – Twilight nearly collapsed with relief that they’d at least exhausted Ponyville’s residents. She’d been beginning to think, though not with any seriousness, that Celestia just wasn’t worth it.

“Except Ponyvillians not currently in Ponyville,” Pinkie Pie added. “That still makes them Ponyvillians, right? Hey, now that I think about it, that word’s pretty weird. Ponyvillians. Pony villians. Pony villains. Just swap the a and the i. Crazy, huh?”

Twilight declined to engage in that tangential conversation. “Just to confirm, we’ve tested every pony from Ponyville currently in town?”

“Yep!”

“And we haven’t found either bearer.” After a moment, Twilight politely added, “Other than you for Laughter.”

“Yep!”

“Great.” Twilight heaved a tired sigh. “Well, I guess it’s time to start testing other ponies. That should be easy enough. At this time of night they should all be in the new inns or taverns, especially with a storm scheduled.”

“Ooh, that’s perfect!”

Twilight, prepared to handle a heavy dose of Pinkie Logic, asked, “What is?”

“What better place to find adventurers to take part in our epic quest? Maybe you’ll even meet a wizened old stallion with a huge, long, gray beard that will give us some sort of side quest that actually turns out to be important to our main one because we get some magical quest item that–”

Filtering Pinkie Pie out with a bit of magic, Twilight pulled the updated dossier she’d gotten from Amethyst Star earlier today from her bag of holding and opened it up to the pages listing temporary residencies for ponies from out-of-town. It seemed that, with a few notable exceptions, everypony not from Ponyville was indeed crammed into the few inns the village had managed to finish and furnish early.

“I’ll take you home,” Twilight said, barely looking up from the folder as she dispelled her Pinkie Filter. Hmm… I wonder how mad Celestia would be if I cast the trademark spell on ‘Pinkie Filter’. Probably very.

Putting that idea to the back of her mind with a shake of her head, Twilight continued, “I can finish up on my own. Get a good night’s sleep. We’re going to do some group bonding tomorrow, even if it’s just the four of us sitting around at a cafe in Manehattan while I bump Elements against ponies walking past.” It would be the first time she spoke to the seapony in over a week, too. That wasn’t going to be fun. “Be prepared.”

“I’m always prepared for group bonding! Should I make a picnic tonight to bring with us?”

“Yeah, sure,” Twilight idly replied. “Whatever is fine.”





Flash trudged through Ponyville, helmet carried under his wing, toward the Prancing Pony. Rumor had it the tavern had managed to conjure up a few barrels of Apple cider out of season, the brew so good even Princess Celestia went out of her way to acquire it. He really needed a drink after today, never mind the expense. It hearkened back to a simpler time when he’d just been admitted to the guard and the captain didn’t send him on impossible missions.

Really, in the half-day he’d been in town, Flash had already discovered that Archmage Twilight had managed to put herself in the hospital for nearly five days. Putting her down for an entire week was the kind of babbling nonsense one expected from a drunken madpony, not reality. Worse, nopony knew where she was and had seen neither hide nor hair of her either as herself or as Index Code since yesterday.

And worst of all, everypony in this town was ready to be shipped off to an asylum! He and the first wave of Royal Guards to arrive with him today had helped send a stray cockatrice back into the Everfree Forest. Sure, there had been some mild panic in the moment in the vicinity of the attack, but once the incident had ended, those not counted amongst the dozens turned to stone just returned to their business without a word. Hardly anypony had even batted an eyelash! If something like that had happened in Canterlot, there would be cordons, investigations, reporters, demands for an explanation. But here? Nothing!

After he stepped through the tavern doors, Flash quickly located the purple earth pony barmare behind the main counter. He pushed his way through the crowd and took what must have been the only available stool in the entire building. It seemed he wasn’t the only pony in town who needed a drink after today.

“What’s your poison?” the barmare asked.

Flash shucked off his armor and then slumped against the counter with both arms atop it. “Just some Apple cider.”

“You sure about that? That stuff is practically worth its weight in magic right now.”

“Yeah. How much?”

“Right now, the going rate is a thousand bits a pint–”

Flash’s jaw fought to drop through his arms to hit the counter.

“–but I seem to be in a generous mood with all this business, and you look like a stallion way down in the dumps. I suppose I could let a pint go for half that if you tell me your story.”

“Really?” It was still an absurdly expensive but much less painful hit to the bit bag. “Thanks a lot! That’s the first good thing that’s happened all day.”

“Oh dear, that doesn’t sound good at all. Give me a moment, and then we’ll talk your troubles away.”

The mare returned with a frothing cup of what might as well have been that ambrosia drink everypony said Princess Celestia consumed with how appealing it appeared. She set it down in front of him, far more careful not to spill a drop than he imagined she usually would be given the stains on the counter. When Flash reached for his saddlebags to pay, she waved him off and said she’d put it on his tab.

“So what’s bothering you?” the barmare asked as she turned to washing a pile of dirty mugs nearby.

After taking a greedy drink, Flash took his hoof off his mug to resist the temptation to polish it off in two or three gos. The brew was as amazing as he remembered from the last time he’d had it, and he had every intention of nursing it the entire night. Only then did he finally reply, “It’s a lot of things, I guess. This town isn’t helping.”

“Ah,” the mare said, obviously sympathetic. “This is your first visit to Ponyville, eh?”

Flash just nodded weakly.

“Well, I suppose I can only say you get used to it. You didn’t have a run in with Pinkie, did you?”

“Who?”

“That’s a no. The Crusaders, perhaps?”

Flash’s blank stare answered for him. Honestly, it was obvious he was with the Royal Guard, and how did she not know about the cockatrice attack this afternoon?

“Hmm, well, never mind, then. What besides the village is on your mind?”

After another sip of cider to hide his indecision, Flash decided, What the hay, and spilled hits guts. “There’s this mare…”

“Ooh, do tell.”

“It’s not like that.” Flash blushed as his thoughts, so prompted, took a turn toward fantasy. “Well, I mean, it is, but she barely acknowledges I exist, and that’s not really the issue at hoof. I – well, it’s classified. I’m part of the Royal Guard, and I can’t reveal everything.”

“Uh-huh. I’ve heard that before.”

Despite the teasing tone, Flash couldn’t help feel a bit flustered. He leaned over to pick up his helmet and mimicked slamming it onto the counter.

“Pff. Anypony can buy one of those from a costume shop.”

Flash leaned over to dig through his saddlebags, intent on pulling out his identification.

“Hey, I’m just messing with you. I never said I don’t believe you. It’s not like we’ve never seen Royal Guards here in Ponyville before, so you see, I have heard that before.”

“Very funny,” Flash said flatly with a roll of his eyes. “Anyway, there’s this mare that I’m supposed to be looking after while I’m in town, but I can’t find her anywhere, and she’s…more of a trouble hunter than a trouble magnet.”

The barmare laughed easily as she wiped down a mug with a dishcloth, an expertly executed, classic bartender pose in Flash’s opinion. “Well then she could be anywhere in Ponyville.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Flash indulged in another sip of his cider. “I have no idea what to do.”

Rather than offer some sympathy, the barmare gave some actual advice. “You could try asking Rarity or Pinkie Pie. They live at the Carousel Boutique and Sugarcube Corner respectively. Rarity usually has a good feel on the village’s pulse, and Pinkie knows everypony.”

Flash recognized Sugarcube Corner as the place where the archmage was supposed to be staying. Maybe he could just show up there. He was supposed to coordinate the Royal Guard’s presence here with Index Code, after all, not just the mayor. It wouldn’t help him keep track of her when she went out and about, but at least he’d have made contact. “I think I’ll take your advice. Thank you.”

“No problem at all. I sort of feel like I owe you anyway. This huge boom in business is all from the festival and from Twilight paying me such a public visit. Gotta do my part to help Equestria in return, you know. Return the favor and all.”

It took a few moments for Flash’s mind to process what he’d just heard. “Whoa, what? You’re friends with the archmage?”

An evil smile grew on the mare as she said, “I would say more acquaintances, really. Maybe friends eventually if she continues to loosen up when we hang out. Turns out that’s enough to double your bar’s popularity. But I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to have a crush on her.”

The closest Flash came to a dignified response was to bury his head in his hooves and wings. Then he stumbled over something the barmare had said. “Wait, what do you mean ‘loosen up’? Since when does she do that?”

Suddenly with a more serious tone, the mare said, “You should hurry up and make your move, or you’ll never have a chance.”

Flash swallowed a gasp. “What do you mean?”

“Ah, well, I’m not sure how much I should say.” The barmare set aside the mug she’d been cleaning. “She showed up yesterday and subtly asked about a mutual friend of ours. So another friend of mine she also spoke with and I got to talking, and we’re pretty sure she has a crush. Not sure if it’s requited, and to be honest, I’m not sure if it’d be a good idea either even if it is. Both mares in question have some serious baggage.” She shrugged. “But if it’s meant to be, love finds a way. Same with you, I imagine.”

Flash chugged down more of his cider than he really wanted to, but he’d definitely needed it. It would certainly soothe his ego and yet sting all the same if it turned out he’d gotten nowhere with the archmage because he had the wrong gender. But really, what did that even matter to a mare who could turn a pony into whatever she wanted on a whim? “Who is this mutual friend of yours?”

“I really shouldn’t say.”

“Please tell me,” Flash begged. “Please.”

“I’m sorry,” the barmare said. “It really isn’t my place to say. For a number of reasons.” 

Flash sighed in resignation. “Well, thanks for the warning, at least.”

“You’re welcome. I can really see why having a crush on her would be difficult. I take it you actually get to see her once in a while, right?”

Crossing another sigh with a laugh, Flash said, “Fleetingly. I actually know her older brother much, much better.”

“Oh? Is that an in or a burden?”

“Eh.” Flash shrugged. “He’s the scary older brother, but he doesn’t actually interfere. Or help, but that’s fine.”

A weird, fleeting feeling interrupted the conversation. Were he not a trained guard, he probably would have dismissed it if he’d ever even noticed it. It felt as if he’d been bumped with something both smooth and hard. It hadn’t been an elbow despite the crowd or anything of the sort. He turned in his seat to look around for the source of the feeling and, quite unexpectedly, his eyes landed on the archmage herself disguised as Index Code. She was staring right at him with a look of relief on her face.

That was new.

And it didn’t last.

Archmage Twilight’s eyes widened a second later as they flared with recognition that soon sailed on straight into some awful mixture of horror and anger.

“Oh, come on!” The tavern fell silent, everypony staring at Archmage Twilight as she stomped her hoof. She turned her head slightly to nopony in particular and screamed, “You think this is real funny, don’t you?”

A very nervous stallion, the closest pony to the archmage’s line of sight, nervously shifted away from her. “N-no? Look, I don’t want any–”

Archmage Twilight ignored the stallion and marched across the room. The crowd parted for her. Even disguised, it seemed, she remained a force of nature who unconsciously commanded respect. When she neared, she pointed straight at Flash. “You. You’re coming with me.” It clearly wasn’t a request. It was just a fact.

Gulping, Flash nodded. He glanced back at the barmare.

“I’ll keep your cider cold for you. Nice to meet you…”

“Flash. Flash Sentry.”

“Berry Punch,” the barmare returned.

With that out of the way, a very impatient and visibly angry archmage marched Flash out of the tavern. He knew better than to try something when she was like this, so as soon as they were outside, he hazarded, “Your brother sent me–”

“Oh, fantastic, you know who I am,” Archmage Twilight interrupted. “When I next see him, he and I are going to have some serious words.” And now that she knew her disguise was useless, she teleported them away to some remote field in the middle of nowhere as soon as they stepped out of sight behind a building.

Once the disorientation faded, Flash straightened his posture and slipped into a formal salute. He had a job to do, after all. “Sergeant Flash Sentry, reporting for duty, Your Excellency. Captain Armor assigned me to lead the Summer Sun Celebration’s guard detachment.”

“Not anymore.”

The words were bitter, and Archmage Twilight flung a golden necklace with a red gem shaped like shield at Flash. It matched the outline of his cutie mark, surprisingly. He managed to catch it with a hoof after it slammed into his chest with enough force to probably bruise a little. While he usually wasn’t one for jewelry – on himself or mares – he had to admit there was something about the necklace that made him want to put it on and never take it off.

As if reading Flash’s thoughts, the archmage said, “Put it on. That’s Loyalty. It’s yours until you die.”

“R-right.” Flash didn’t dare question the word choice and did as bidden. He felt oddly invigorated as soon as the clasp snapped closed.

“You have a new mission as of tomorrow, so listen up. I’ll make this quick. Princess Celestia’s sister, Princess Luna, also known as Nightmare Moon–”

Flash’s eyes widened in surprise and not a little fear, but he stayed silent and otherwise stoic as he’d been trained to do.

“–is due to return to Equestria on the solstice. She’s mad at her sister. The only way to stop her from booting our princess off the Solar Throne is through use of the Elements of Harmony. There are six in total. They run off of friendship. You have Loyalty. It has a few neat abilities beyond a small magical boost and the ability to summon it to you on command. If you focus on a pony you care about, it can lead you to them. If you focus a little harder, it will teleport you to said pony. It also has a passive danger sense for those ponies. Be aware that this operates under their perception of danger only. Questions?”

Flash had so many. He opened his mouth.

“No? Good. You will refer to me as Index when I’m in disguise and treat me as such. Generosity’s bearer doesn’t know who I am yet, so do not spoil the surprise for her. Her name is Sweetie Belle, and she can read minds but only knows Modern Ponish. She’s white, pink, purple, and adorable all over with a few less years on her than Spike.”

It was probably a bad time to mention that Flash only knew Modern Ponish as well. He’d just have to be careful with his thoughts, he supposed.

“Starting tomorrow, the hopefully six of us will meet up and try not to kill each other. As I mentioned earlier, the Elements of Harmony run off of the power of friendship. I will try to enjoy your company, but I want to make one thing perfectly clear up front.”

The archmage teleported right into Flash’s face. He jumped back, startled, finally breaking his stance after everything that had been dropped on him.

“I. Am not. Dating you.” Each pause was punctuated with a poke to the chest from a hoof. “Understood?”

“Crystal.” Flash could set his own desires aside for the moment. Never mind that this was the chance to get his hoof in the door regardless, romance had no place in a situation this grave. He wasn’t going to bet Princess Celestia’s well-being, if he understood the situation properly, on his ability to woo the archmage in barely more than a moon.

The archmage finally relaxed slightly as she stepped back. “That all said, do you have any quick questions?”

“Just one…Twilight?”

Said mare’s ears pinned to the back of her head as her eye twitched, but she made no comment beyond a tiny nod of acceptance.

“So…awkward question, but do you actually know my name?”

At a mutter too loud for Twilight to not have intended for it to be heard, she said, “I have several unflattering guesses.”

Despite knowing to expect that, Flash still sighed from the disappointment. He’d kind of hoped he’d at least gotten her to glance at his file, but it seemed that had been too much to ask. “It’s Flash Sentry,” he said. “I prefer to go by Flash.”

“Fine. I’ll remember it.” Twilight raised a hoof toward the horizon and said, “If you can’t get Loyalty to work for whatever reason, Ponyville is that way. Don’t teleport to me.”

And then Twilight teleported away, leaving Flash, if not stranded, then certainly abandoned. He could fly back if he needed to, but it was probably best to figure out how to get the Element of Loyalty to work before tomorrow.





Just don’t think about it, Twilight. You have a bearer for Loyalty? Don’t be silly. There’s no Element of Loyalty. There are only five Elements of Harmony. What kind of messed up universe do you think you live in where there’s six? Because there’s totally only five. Yep.

Oh, Twilight was going to have very strong words with Shining when they next spoke. She could imagine why that overprotective brother of hers had sent Flash of all possible qualified guards down here, and if that decision to have somepony hover over her in the background cost her Celestia’s freedom… Well, she didn’t know what she would do, but she knew Shining wouldn’t like it.

Argh! You’re thinking about it, Twilight. Stop already!

And to do so, Twilight focused on finishing her task for the night. She only had one pony left to test as far as she knew, and then she could go to bed and waste time with Luna and the others. They had a game to finish, and she still wanted to hear the remainder of Luna’s story.

Now if only the last pony Twilight had to test for Laughter wasn’t an illusionist who hated her.

She paused for a moment, considering that last thought.

Maaaaybe I should just skip Trixie. I mean, I like her on a superficial level, but perhaps it’s best not to go looking for more drama to add to our dysfunctional little team.

Just as Twilight was about to turn and leave, something bounced harmlessly off her passive shields and broke on the ground. Suppressing the urge to reflexively teleport away to safety, she followed the object back to its source. There she found a hatted but cloakless Trixie wobbling down the stairs from the wagon in which she both traveled and lived. In her magic, she held a mostly full bottle of wine, one matching the broken shards of glass on the ground.

Underneath the incredibly drunken slur, Trixie said, “What are you doing here, Sparkle?”

Twilight took a casual glance at her foreleg to ensure her polymorph hadn’t fallen. She was, indeed, still Index.

“Come to rub it in that she was right all along?”

Who is ‘she’? Twilight pushed the thought aside. It hardly mattered. “No, not at all. I–”

“No! Trixie’s not falling for it!” After nearly literally falling over and then taking another swig of wine, Trixie continued, “Why else would you show up other than to humiliate Trixie again? Well, two can play at that game!”

In perhaps the worst but somehow successful display of spellcasting Twilight had ever seen, Trixie managed to polymorph herself while drunk into a crude version of Twilight while also managing to preserve her inebriation. In all honesty, it was a rather impressive feat.

“Ooh, I’m Twilight Sparkle,” Trixie began. The polymorph hadn’t even come close to Twilight’s true voice, but it at least sounded different. “I’m the high and mighty student of Princess… Um… No, not that jerk. Uh, Celestia! Yeah, Princess Celestia. I’m way too good at everything to even acknowledge when a pony speaks to me.”

That had slivers of truth to it, although Twilight had no idea why Trixie would mention it. Not that she would take drunken ramblings very seriously to begin with. “Fine, I’ll play along.” It wasn’t likely Trixie would remember tonight anyway. “You caught me. I had a hot air balloon ready with twenty zebras in it for an elaborate practical joke on you, but you’re just too smart for me.”

“Ah ha!” Trixie cried as she reverted to her base form. “You admit it! You can’t fool the Great and Powerful Trixie!”

Twilight facehoofed. Maybe I should just knock her out for both our sakes.

Predictably, the Drunk and Unbalanced Trixie fell over onto her back on the road when she tried to pose dramatically on her hindlegs.

After Trixie hadn’t moved for a few seconds, Twilight asked, “Would you like some help?”

“Trixie doesn’t want any help from you! Trixie would never be able to forgive herself!” Groaning, she rolled over and eventually managed to teeter back to her hooves. “And what’s that thing you’ve been hiding?” She reached out with her magic and, with only a token level of opposition, snagged the invisible Laughter from Twilight. She truly did have an impressive gift for illusions and transmutation to be able to do so much while five minutes shy of passing out from an alcohol overdose. “Better not be something to humiliate Trixie with.”

After countering the spells on Laughter, Trixie squinted her eyes to get a better look at its revealed form. “What? It’s just a big rock. Why are you carrying around a big rock?” And then her eyes widened in misunderstanding. “Oh, I see. It wasn’t enough for you to humiliate Trixie yesterday. You missed her last time, so you came to hit her properly. Well, it won’t work!”

Twilight rolled her eyes.

Meanwhile, Trixie threw Laughter down into the ground hard enough to shatter the cobblestone road and bury it up to a quarter of its height. “Ha! Your plan has been foiled by the All-Knowing and Omniscient Trixie!”

This time, Twilight went for a full facehoof, the second for this conversation already. “Trixie, you – I don’t even know. You’re so drunk. You know what? Fine. You’ve defeated me. Oh, woe is me. I’ll just have to go back to my tower to scheme another day. I’ll just take that rock back and–”

“No!” Trixie shouted. At the same time, she stomped on Laughter, only to topple over into a graceless face plant when her hoof suddenly lost its support. “Argh! Trixie’s blind! Curse you, Sparkle! Trixie will have her reven–”

Trixie choose that exact moment to vomit. Fortunately for them both, she managed to miss the now awakened Laughter before passing out entirely.

Well… Mission accomplished, I guess. I’ve got the liar, the thief, the anomaly, the stalker, the narcissist, and the shut-in.

It was a far cry from the collection of bearers Twilight had expected. In some ways, that was good. In many others, however, it was a disaster. She could only hope the Elements knew what they were doing.
> Chapter Thirteen - As the Night Passes
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Curious. So many centuries have passed, yet they live as though they’ve not aged a day.” It shouldn’t be possible, she realized now that her own eyes saw it for themselves. But while the scientist in her was excited, she had other business today. It would have to wait for another time.





Reluctantly, Twilight set about cleaning up after the mess Trixie had made. Once she had, she carried the unconscious mare back into her wagon to tuck her into bed. There would be a better time to speak than this. She quickly penned a short letter explaining what Laughter was and what it did and then placed both it and the note atop Trixie’s wardrobe, careful not to touch any of the magical artifacts littering the wagon. The collection had her salivating a bit, in truth. There were so many, and she didn’t know what any of them were. Trixie hadn’t even placed any additional security on them to ward off inquisitive horns!

But they, too, would keep for another time. Starting this friendship off with an invasion of privacy would hardly get Twilight anywhere with a mare who already openly professed to hating her. So she forced herself to willingly step outside the wagon. After checking her spellwork no less than six times to be sure she wouldn’t accidentally kill herself, Twilight pushed a sizeable fraction of her total magic into a teleport.

Thus did Twilight reappear inside the ruins of the Old Castle inside the Everfree Forest where Celestia had set up a safe teleport point. She could already feel Magic’s call beckon her onward, and Celestia’s own magic thrummed with power all around her. Up ahead, she spotted the source of both along with Moon Dancer. As she’d expected, they were busy working on setting up the trap for Luna. It was, for anypony else, the very definition of overkill, but at best it would hold Luna off for a few critical seconds.

Twilight trotted forward carefully. None of the enchantments present were armed and ready, but she nonetheless felt uneasy walking through them. She pushed them from her mind as best as she could as she greeted the other two ponies present. Moon Dancer looked a little worn down, which she’d expected. Even only handling the administrative side of things for the most part, her job wasn’t easy to just pick up and run with. Celestia, on the other hoof, wore a look of concentration. When she finished casting the current spell she was working on, it faded into a warm and welcoming smile.

Once all greetings had been exchanged and Celestia had extracted a lingering hug, Twilight asked, “So how is everything going?”

“Well,” Celestia summarized simply. “Nothing of particular interest has happened in your absence.” She said that like it was a bad thing, and for an immortal, perhaps it was. “I arranged for Lyra Heartstrings’s full citizenship, but the remainder of that mess remains unresolved as of yet.” After a moment of consideration, she added, “Cadance may wish to speak with you about her project.”

Twilight made a mental note to visit the entire family when she eventually stopped by to chew out Shining for the part he’d played in Loyalty’s awakening.

Moon Dancer’s horn dimmed until the magic at its tip faded away. “Everything is correct.” She returned the instructions for the trap to Celestia for further work. After adjusting her glasses, she asked, “How are the Elements coming along?”

“Good,” Twilight replied perhaps a little too quickly. “Good. I actually just finished awakening the last one.” With a little prompting from Celestia, she elaborated. “Sweetie Belle bonded with Generosity. That’s the filly you met when I was in the hospital. That settled me on taking her on as a student.”

While Celestia smiled waned a little at hearing all that, she didn’t comment. Twilight didn’t ask. She’d already told herself whatever criticisms were surely running through Celestia’s mind anyway.

“Pinkie Pie ended up with Kindness. I think she and I will be all right.” And in all honesty, after today, Twilight felt that might actually be the case. “We just needed to set some boundaries.”

“Such as leave the scalpel at home?” Celestia teased.

Moon Dancer looked between the two of them. Without context, she had no idea why they were laughing.

Unfortunately, that brought Twilight to the next Element. Her face warped into a scowl. “Shining sent Sergeant Flash Sentry to Ponyville.”

“Oh dear.” Celestia recognized the name, it seemed.

Twilight immediately said, “It’s fine.” It really wasn’t, but she would deal with it. Flash was a guard. To survive under Shining’s watch, he surely had to have a proper sense of fealty to the crown. She could work with that in this situation.

“What am I missing?” Moon Dancer asked.

“In the interest of getting to bed at a somewhat reasonable hour,” Celestia began, “I think it best not to get her started.”

Twilight snorted. She wouldn’t waste that much time on a mere nuisance. “Laughter went to the Great and Powerful Trixie.”

At the mention of the only pony to get herself expelled from the School for Gifted Unicorns in decades, Celestia perked up a little. “Trixie? Is she well?”

Moon Dancer, who had attended the school in the same year, had a decidedly opposite reaction. “Is she still a danger to herself and everypony around her?”

“Well…” Considering that Trixie had just drunk herself into a blackout, Twilight couldn’t honestly say she was well, but she’d clearly polished her magical skills since leaving school. “I suppose she’s doing all right on both fronts,” Twilight ultimately decided upon. “And she kind of despises me. For unclear reasons. I may need you…” Celestia might not be the best intermediary, on second thought, considering whose school Trixie had gotten thrown out of. “I’ll figure something out. If nothing else, we won’t be lacking for conversation material.” She wanted to know everything about those magical artifacts Trixie had: what they did, where they came from, how she’d acquired them.

“Might I suggest you start with politely asking why she dislikes you? I find these sorts of grudges tend to stem from simple misunderstandings.”

“Like with Luna?”

Celestia winced. “Like with Luna.” Her gaze drifted up to the moon. “Sometimes simple things cut deeper than anything.”

“I see…” The last time Twilight had tried that, Trixie had challenged her to a duel. Still, if Celestia said to give it another shot, she doubted it would hurt to make a second attempt. “Well, that’s all I had. I just thought I’d stop by and let you know all of the Elements are awake.”

Celestia held her wing wide in invitation, and Twilight stepped into it for a farewell hug. “Come visit again soon. We all miss you.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” It was only twenty more days before the solstice, a mere four weeks, a moon and some change. It was so little time to prepare, but it also felt like such a long time to wait. Maybe she and the other bearers would benefit from some time apart on occasion. They did have a movie night scheduled. She could make time to attend that, at least. Perhaps Sweetie Belle might like to come along. She’d have to give that a little more thought.

“One more thing,” Celestia said. She lowered her voice. “I’ve yet to tell anyone about my sister’s dreamwalking.”

Twilight quickly tallied up everypony she’d told. Beyond Celestia herself, there was only Sunset, Sweetie Belle, and by extension, probably the Crusaders. Pinkie Pie might know given that they roomed together, but that was it. “Any particular reason why?” She’d kind of assumed Shining would know when she’d asked him to start vetting ponies now that they knew Luna existed.

“For the same reason I never insist on the changelings openly integrating into Equestria.”

Ah. Rampant suspicion and fear. Such things had happened to other governments, Twilight knew. “Fair enough,” she said as she broke away. “I have little to no control over what her own friends and contacts do, but I understand your point.”

After exchanging her final goodbyes, when Twilight turned to leave, Moon Dancer stepped forward and offered to see her out. Then once they were out of earshot, Moon Dancer finally spoke what was on her mind.

“Twilight, Princess Celestia isn’t… She’s not doing well.”

That much was obvious even from that brief exchange. “Yeah, I noticed.” Twilight risked a glance back at Celestia, who had already returned to her own work. “Please just keep looking after her. I hope to have some good news for her soonish unrelated to the Elements. Don’t mention that to her, though. I don’t want to get her hopes up in case it doesn’t work out.”

“Will it really help?”

Twilight nodded. If she could get Luna to talk to Celestia, even to just consider it, however much it hurt one or the other, it would be good for them both. But speaking of whom, it was time to face another night in Luna’s company.





The locals knew it as the Temple of the Ephemeral Moon. Legend had it that when the clock struck midnight and the stars aligned, it appeared deep within the misty forest under the light of the full moon. Few ponies had ever seen it, and nopony had ever managed to enter it, for those who tried found it to be not a temple but a fortress. Then, before anypony more qualified could be summoned, it disappeared back into the darkness of the night.

To Chrysalis, it sounded like somepony’s unmaintained illusion spells were malfunctioning. She might assign a few members of her hive to fix that while she was here.

“Your Majesty, we found something.”

Chrysalis paused in her inspection of the protections surrounding Princess Luna’s ancient workshop. “What is it, Pharynx?”

“A local. He met with a mare passing through town around the time when the staff disappeared. She introduced herself as Lulamoon.”

Lulamoon? That couldn’t be right. According to the histories Chrysalis’s mother had left her, the last Lulamoon had died years before Princess Luna’s banishment. A pretender? It was possible, she supposed. Having the wit to recover the Night Guardian Staff didn’t preclude anyone from presumptuous behavior liable to set an angry alicorn on them. But perhaps a line of Lulamoons endured in secret to await their princess’s return. If they passed the title down to a worthy successor…

Chrysalis supposed it didn’t really matter right now. It could be a red herring for all she knew. There would be time to determine such minor details when she eventually found the person – she wasn’t ruling any species out yet – who’d stolen the staff. “Why did Princess Celestia not hear this stallion’s story?”

“He moved away. When she came looking, he must have slipped through the cracks. He’s only recently returned to Hollow Shades.”

That was bad luck, but Chrysalis understood. A sovereign only had so much time to spare for such projects. Such was the magic of delegation. Without the burden of secrecy, she could perform a full investigation. She’d have to request Equestria’s census data for Hollow Shades and have someling pore over it. A quick thought over the hive mind sent one of her changelings off to complete that project for her. It was good to be queen.

Finishing her inspection of the wards, enchantments, and other protections placed over Princess Luna’s workshop took a few more hours. She found nothing there that Princess Celestia hadn’t informed her of, nor had anyone made any modifications to them. That could mean too many things for her to reach any conclusions, so she paid it no mind and finally entered.

Books, trinkets, artifacts, weapons, armor, paintings, sculptures, and every manner of fascination littered the shelves, tables, walls, floors, and even ceilings. Some of it was broken junk fit only for research. Most sat idle, either disabled or no longer functional. But the rest? They went about whatever they were designed to do: strange devices that, lacking context, glowed without meaning; a set of boots that emitted puffs of short lived clouds; a magically isolated orb of softly swirling dark light which all but screamed evil and corruptive; a clock that stopped ticking when observed.

As she explored, Chrysalis only found more and more treasures lost to the world. An entire hall had been dedicated just to enchanted mirrors, although only one, a massive crystal mirror, appeared fully intact and potentially functional. In another room, three of the legendary Mage Meadowbrook’s eight enchanted items sat openly and unadorned in plain sight! Had she only discovered this workshop before the traitor revealed the hive to Equestria, she would have stripped it bare and never looked back.

With some amusement, Chrysalis considered that the real reason Princess Celestia had never sent Twilight here years ago to search for the staff was not to hide Princess Luna’s existence but because she would never be heard from again. Or worse, she might realize she served the wrong princess. How strange it was that the elder sister had borne the Element of Magic when the younger seemed more well-suited at a glance. Perhaps Magic is a mistranslation from Pre-Discordian Ponish? It doesn’t exactly fit with the other five Elements.

Chrysalis finally came upon where the crown jewel of this collection was supposed to reside. Of all the treasures someone might take, only it was missing. That spoke of a thief acting with either haste, ignorance, or purpose. The first seemed unlikely, as Princess Celestia hadn’t mentioned rushing to the workshop in an attempt to stop a burglary. The second she doubted, for who would have the magical skills necessary to enter this place uninvited and not recognize any of the other priceless artifacts on display?

Hmm, I wonder if our thief is a thief at all. If there truly is a Lulamoon running around with some measure of legitimacy, that would explain why only Princess Luna’s favorite toy is missing so near to her return.

Of course, even a hostile, powerful mage with the Night Guardian Staff in their possession could be a very large threat all on their own, no alicorn required. Chrysalis stopped to reevaluate the wisdom in letting Ocellus wander freely, but she was well protected where she was and didn’t seem to have any intention of leaving. Unless something changed, Chrysalis felt no need to explicitly restrict her movements.

“Hmm?” A thick book lay carelessly discarded on the floor nearby with a depiction of the Night Guardian Staff in view. Chrysalis picked it up, read a bit of it, and laughed. Penned by Luna, the collection of research notes was probably the closest thing that existed to a manual for the staff. Everyone always threw out the manual, didn’t they?

At any rate, now that Chrysalis had determined that the workshop was safe, relatively speaking, to enter and explore, she called the changelings who’d accompanied her here to come join her. Then she instructed for word to be spread through the hive that they were to keep their eyes and ears peeled for any sign of a Lulamoon running about Equestria.

Then with all that out of the way, Chrysalis turned her attention to the thousands of artifacts and books surrounding her. She couldn’t take anything without it being missed and the perpetrator obvious, but nothing stopped her from gleaning what knowledge she could with the time here she had available.





Twilight successfully made her way into her dreamscape with little difficulty. It’d grown easy with a little practice. Perhaps a second after she did, she heard a soft flump, and upon realizing that it was Luna’s journal falling, caught it before it tumbled off the couch onto the floor. She doubted it could be damaged without specifically unraveling whatever twisted dream logic protected it, but books were always to be treated with the utmost respect – even the Inspiration Manifestation.

After a full minute had passed by the clock – a properly functioning while sleeping dreamwarming gift from Seabreeze – Twilight gave up waiting for Luna to notice her sleeping state and left for her library. She shelved Luna’s journal there where she could keep an eye on it and then returned to work on the lesson plan for Sweetie Belle she’d started last night.

Not long later, Twilight’s eyes drifted back toward Luna’s journal. A frown overtook her as she stared at it. Writing her own journal to protect against memory loss or alteration had been one of the most motivating reasons she’d held when she’d decided to learn how to enter her dreamscape. With all the chaos in her life as of late, it’d slipped her mind entirely. She looked back down at her lesson plans, then back at the journal.

Priorities, Twilight. You have enough to keep Sweetie Belle occupied for now.

Sighing, Twilight dreamed up a pair of journals. In the first she would record her life story as she remembered it up to the present. That would have to be a slow, incremental process. She was by no measure an old mare, but she’d crammed a lot of life into her early years. She would probably need a separate series of logbooks entirely to record her work as the archmage when she got to it, but for now, she labeled the journal and set it aside.

To the second journal, Twilight added an amusing title: Friendship is Magic. She chuckled to herself. It was an ancient pony idiom from before Discord, one which had endured through the fall of civilization, and it seemed only fitting. She was, after all, attempting to power a set of Pre-Discordian magical artifacts with friendship. In this journal, she would record her life from when Spike first brought her The Tale of the Royal Pony Sisters up until the solstice and her confrontation with Luna. She would need to remind herself to remain relatively objective multiple times, she was sure. For her purpose, her opinions were as important to record as facts, but she might turn to venting if she treated this too much like keeping a diary.

And thus Twilight began writing, fully engrossing herself in her work. Her time in Ponyville remained fresh and unspoiled. Beyond the magical enchantments she used to improve her long-term memory, the last couple weeks had been filled with remarkable events and new experiences, many extraordinarily frustrating. She doubted she’d forget them anytime soon. The stampede in particular, now that she’d gotten to it, had a strange mixture of random chaos, irritation, and the joy of meeting Sweetie Belle.

“Good–”

Twilight did not shriek. That would be silly. Nor did she have a teleport on the tip of her horn.

Luna arched her eyebrows. “–evening. Not expecting company?”

“No, no.” Perhaps the chime announcing visitors should be a little louder. “Just got a bit distracted. I put your journal over there on the shelf.”

Following Twilight’s hoof, Luna found the book in question and took it back into her magic. She seemed satisfied by whatever inspection she performed of it. “Thank you for taking care of it.” After a short pause, she continued, “I realize you woke prior to my full breakdown, but I nonetheless apologize for losing my temper in front of you again.”

Twilight delayed her response to consider which direction she wished to proceed. There were so many possible avenues, and it was at times like these that she wished she had Celestia’s gift for conversation and influence. Then again, if her ultimate goal was to befriend Luna, all she could really do was be herself and maybe temper some of her snark.

“I’m fairly certain bottling up your emotions is what got you banished,” Twilight decided upon.

“While I have long ago admitted such was a contributing factor, I make no excuses for the flaw in my temperament now.”

Twilight bit her tongue to deliver a properly measured response. “There’s a difference between not getting angry and hiding that anger.”

“Point,” Luna allowed after a few moments to likely reflect upon her exact wording.

And with that concession, Twilight continued, “I don’t expect you to be anything but a pony. I’m the shoulder Celestia cries on. I can handle being the mare you scream at.” She snorted. “I foresee several shouting matches in our future if, come the solstice, you win your little spat with her.”

Luna scrutinized Twilight with a wary, skeptical eye. And she had good cause to do so. Twilight hadn’t exactly weathered the storm well the last time she’d lost control.

No sense in not addressing the elephant in the room. It might even flatter. “You know how when you know a spell really, really well and you put it down for a while, it takes a little effort to get back into practice?”

“Yes?” Clearly, Luna had no idea why that mattered.

Although she was sure she would never hear the end of this, Twilight said, “It’s been a while since I last dealt with an actual threat.” Pinkie Pie and Lyra were merely the tip of the iceberg. “I’ll get over it.”

It took a few seconds, but only that. “Twilight Sparkle,” Luna said, fighting off a fit of laughter, “are you telling me you forgot how to have courage?”

“What use is courage to a mare living in a world of insects?” Luna seemed like the sort to appreciate a good boast.

And indeed, Luna laughed now without restraint. She tried to form words a few times before giving it up as futile. It wasn’t precisely the intended result, but Twilight supposed it would do. When she finally settled, she fell silent for a time to merely breathe and catch her breath, little giggles escaping her from time to time as she did so. It gave Twilight a moment to think in which there was no expectation for her to speak. In it, she realized that Luna had opened herself, logically speaking, to the first phase of Operation Reconciliation, the name Twilight had just now given to her backup plan. She just needed to figure out how to word it.

“Ah, dear Twilight, I foresee far fewer shouting matches in our future than you, I believe.”

“Hmph.” That would do as a prompt, however, so Twilight seized the opportunity. “There’s an easy way to achieve that.”

Luna dryly observed, “Quite a few, actually. Alas, easy and disagreeable oft go hoof in hoof.”

That deserved a good roll of the eyes. “Quite. Regardless, you’ve repeatedly identified your lack of emotional control when it comes to Celestia as a flaw of your character.” Twilight pressed on despite the hardening of Luna’s eyes. “If you want to fix that, why don’t you just go hash out your differences with her right now. I already told her you’re dreamwalking, and I assure you, she regrets everything that happened between you.”

“A moment, please,” Luna said darkly. She moved to leave the library. “I need a visceral aid.”

Twilight swallowed, deeply unsettled by what the pun implied, but didn’t protest Luna’s departure. It was no short length of time in which she left the tower. Twilight tried to get some work done, but on each attempt, she only ever managed to write a few words before she inevitably became distracted. She really tried not to imagine what Luna intended to return with, but that wasn’t how her mind worked. What nightmare fuel would Luna drag into her dreamscape? Not that it helped, but the imagining, she knew, would be so much worse than the actual event.

She was so very wrong.

She heard it before she saw it. An icy chill settled deep in her chest. Her heart stopped.

“Let go of me already!”

Twilight reacted immediately. The dream warped around her will as dread and worry turned to white-hot fury. In but moments, she had her precious son wrapped up in her hooves while Luna slammed against a wall with all access to magic stripped from her. “How dare you! Spike has nothing to do with this!”

A half-mad cackle met the demand.

Twilight slammed Luna against the wall again, this time hard enough to crack even an earth pony’s bones. “This isn’t funny! What did you do to him?” She turned her attention to the dragon in her arms. He protested that he was fine when she fussed over him, but she wasn’t satisfied. “Well?”

“Would it matter if I said I was sorry?”

A thousand nightmares all plagued Twilight at once. She truly had no idea what Luna could do to someone while banished. Dreamscapes existed within one’s magic, so dreamwalking must involve a meeting of magics. If Luna could do that much, anything was theoretically possible.

“What did you do!” Twilight screeched as her thoughts converged toward worst-case scenarios.

“Heh heh.” The laughter was weaker this time, and from the way her eyes swam, Luna would likely have a concussion if any of this were real. “Autumn spoke truly. Cousins, indee–” She bit back the beginnings of a scream as Twilight skipped the middlemare and triggered her nociceptors directly to cause pain. When she could speak again, she said with shaking words, “Oh, Twilight, so much trouble over a doll.”

“A – a doll?” Even as she said the words, Twilight felt the Spike still wrapped protectively in her hooves crumble away into dream dust, and even that vanished without a trace. Her magical grip on Luna broke in her shock. He’d looked, and sounded, and felt so real, not a detail out of place. Luna must have taken the time to observe him in his dreams.

And as for the mare herself, she grunted as she hit the floor, but it didn’t stop her from rising to her hooves nor from stalking forward. “Was this justice, Twilight Sparkle?”

“I-I–”

She heard the uneven four-beat gait of Luna’s hooves, unable to look at their source.

“I…”

She’d never lashed out like that before.

“What did I do?”

She’d leapt straight to torture.

Luna drew near. Her voice lowered. “Should I toss you into an oubliette for a thousand years for this assault I provoked? Is that justice?”

Twilight knew the parallels Luna was trying to draw with this living analogy, but she couldn’t stop the tremors running through her nor slow her quickening breath long enough to argue back.

“It is my weakness to desire retribution as I pursue the nebulous concept we call justice,” Luna said with an air of finality. “As a pony who has lived a blessed life free of any true loss or suffering, the difference between the two can be difficult to understand.” She breathed deeply. “I shall leave you to your thoughts for the night.”

With the same uneven gait, Luna retreated toward the library’s entrance. Her hooves echoed heavily in the silence, each irregular beat a reminder of how they’d gotten that way.

Had that really all been her? Twilight didn’t have clean hooves. Years of fighting megalomaniacs and ponies who just wanted the world to burn had made sure of that. But she’d never once been so overwhelmed with anger. Was that what Luna had to deal with so often? Was that Sombra’s fault, or was it just nature? Was it something the fake Spike had induced in her, or was it, in fact, just her nature?

The library door opened. Twilight’s eyes snapped up to Luna’s ragged form. There was no blood. She’d been too clean and efficient for that. Any bruises would be hidden beneath her dark blue coat. But the bones out of alignment, those she could see. She knew what that felt like.

“Luna.” Twilight waited until the mare looked back her way. “I’m sorry.”

Luna’s frown remained unchanged. “I apologize as well. In this, I think we may call ourselves truly equal.” She turned away and then added, “I shall not forget that you have courage indeed, Twilight Sparkle,” as she departed.

The door shut. While it might have been implied in their last exchange, Twilight couldn’t help but note that neither of them had explicitly accepted the other’s apology.
> Chapter Fourteen - Coming Together
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Prithee tell me why I should not unleash my wrath upon him personally?” It was a fair question, just as restraint was understandably a lot to ask of her. Everything that had gone wrong in her life could be traced back to that stallion’s lust for power.

Luckily, an excellent answer existed. “Because if you don’t, I may be able to coax the mare who would be your number one problem into becoming an ally.”





Trixie groaned as she awoke. Her eyes squeezed shut tight against the infernal sun. She had a hangover worthy of being locked away in Tartarus. Flailing about blindly with a hoof, she searched for the cure to what ailed her. To her disappointment, it seemed to be avoiding her. “Niian, where are you?”

The Night Guardian Staff, which Trixie affectionately shortened to Niian despite its lack of personhood, reached out to answer its master’s call. The little spark of it establishing mental contact never failed to make her jump. “Other side. On the wall mount.”

With some effort, Trixie vaguely recalled putting Niian there. Yesterday was such a blur. Her hoof found her staff. A little dexterous bump knocked it off its hooks to land perfectly on top of her barrel. She curled all of her legs around it and snuggled back into bed. “Hangover cure, Niian. Use your own reservoir.” If she had to supply the magic for this, she knew her horn wouldn’t ever let her forget the cost. She’d just have to top the staff off again once she felt better.

At its usual rapid pace, the Night Guardian Staff did as directed and constructed the spell. It then applied it in short order, and Trixie sighed at the relief that swept through her. “Thanks, Niian.” Why had she ever thought it was a good idea to drink so much? So what if life liked to buck her at every turn? So what if everything she ever reached for always amounted to nothing? She was the Great and Powerful Trixie! Nopony could take that from her.

Maybe someday that would be enough.

As Trixie lay in bed, the longer she went undistracted, the more she noticed something tugging on her mind. Niian, a relic from civilization at its height just before the Discordian Collapse, knew how to shield her from such effects, yet it still managed to pierce those protections. That had never happened before.

“Niian, is there a big scary monster nearby?”

After a quick scan, it replied, “Results inconclusive.”

“What do you mean results inconclusive?” Trixie mumbled sleepily. Reluctantly, she flung the covers off her over Niian and sat up in her bed. She paid no mind to the cool morning air and scanned the room. “So where is the…” Her eyes landed on a fantastic necklace sitting atop her wardrobe. It most certainly wasn’t hers, but as the saying went, finders keepers. “What is that?” she asked as she rolled out of bed.

Surprisingly, she got an answer. “The Element of Laughter, one of six artifacts collectively known as the Elements of Harmony. Last known bearer: Luna.”

Trixie withdrew her hoof from the necklace as though she’d been burned. “The Great and Powerful Trixie doesn’t need your charity,” she said to nopony who could hear her. It didn’t work with her color scheme, anyway. Gold would clash with her colors and ruin her stage presence, and the blue gem would…

The gem was nearly the same color as her coat, and it was cut to form the layered stars found on her cutie mark.

“That’s a nice touch, Trixie admits,” she said, again speaking to nopony present, “but you’ll have to do a lot better than hoof-me-downs. Niian, did you see who left this here?”

“Standby mode,” it replied simply by way of explanation.

Trixie clicked her tongue. She recalled now, if only hazily, telling it to stop chiding her for drinking and to go to sleep. When her gaze returned to the necklace, this time she noticed a letter placed beside it amongst the clutter atop her wardrobe. She debated just throwing both straight into the trash, but her curiosity got the better of her.

‘Trixie, the necklace is called the Element of Laughter. You took it from me last night and bonded with it, so…yeah. Kind of my fault for letting my guard down while you were inebriated. I’ll be by in the morning to discuss what this means for you.

‘As for Laughter itself, don’t mind the compulsion to wear it. It’s harmless. In fact, it has a few abilities. Like the other Elements of Harmony (there are six in total), it will give you a modest magical boost, and you can summon it back to you from anywhere. It’s primary function is to make your own mood infectious in a radius centered around you. Think “reverse empath”. For example, if you’re enjoying one of your performances, so will your audience. If you’re feeling down, misery loves company.

‘Twilight Sparkle’

Of course it would be her. Granted, Trixie hadn’t expected somepony so deep in the sun princess’s pocket, but it’d been about time for life to slap her again. She’d been beginning to get feeling back in her cheeks. And what bigger insult could there be than this? “Trixie does not need a performance enhancer. There is no greater showpony in Equestria already.”

Trixie unceremoniously dumped both the letter and Laughter in the trash with her nose held high.

“Warning: improper artifact disposal detected.”

Leveling a glare on Niian, still covered in blankets, Trixie said, “Don’t you start.” Honestly, she didn’t know where it got its penchant for snippy remarks. It barely even spoke Modern Ponish.

A knock came at the door to Trixie’s wagon. While the sun was up, it was far too early in the morning for Twilight Sparkle to come pester her, so it was probably a fan. She could use a visit from her adoring public right about now.

But behind the door awaited not a foal looking up with starry-eyed wonder nor a grown pony with an interest in the mystic arts. Instead, it was the ‘big scary monster’. For a moment, the two stared at each other. Then the monster opened her mouth, which snapped Trixie from her stupor just enough to slam the door in Princess Celestia’s face. And that, in hindsight, probably just made the situation worse.

Panic set in. Princess Celestia was at her door. Princess Celestia was at her door alone. Anything that happened would pass unwitnessed. She could try running, but she doubted she could get very far even with Niian’s assistance. It would have to be guile and sleight of hoof, then. She’d talked her way out of less dangerous situations with more reasonable ponies, and if she didn’t think about it too hard, that gave her confidence.

When the next knock came on her door, Trixie nervously glanced at all of the artifacts in her wagon whose possession would be heavily frowned upon at best. She didn’t exactly have a contingency plan for Princess Celestia herself getting off the throne and paying her a surprise visit. Niian was already as well hidden as it could be once she hissed at it to enter standby mode. That was, of course, after she quietly shrieked at it for not warning her that the ‘inconclusive big scary monster nearby’ was a physical goddess at her doorstep.

Trixie gave herself one last pep talk to bolster her resolve, slipped deep into her stage character, and at last flung open the door. “So even the Princess of Equestria herself has heard of the Great and Powerful Trixie’s magnificence! What astounding feat of magic can Trixie assist you with?”

The princess’s small smile and warm, light laughter came as an unexpected reaction. “Good morning, Trixie. I thought we might have a chat over breakfast. My treat?”

There was no such thing as a free lunch – or breakfast, as the case may be. Trixie suspected this was going to be about Twilight Sparkle but wasn’t in any position to refuse, so she mentally grit her teeth and replied, “An excellent idea. Ponyville would benefit from the opportunity to bask in my presence. Truly, you are a wise and benevolent diarch.” At least it would get them away from her wagon.

Walking with an alicorn certain had a way of making a pony feel small and insignificant. The ponies of Ponyville who had only last night greeted her and asked for her to perform tricks barely even noticed she existed, and those were the observant ones. Bitterly, the thought, I bet Twilight Sparkle never has to put up with this, crept into her mind. Worse, it was probably true.

“Ah, Sugarcube Corner,” Princess Celestia said. “I have it on good authority that the cake here is extraordinary.”

Whether or not the cake could be termed as such, the service certainly could. Within seconds, they had a private table, more attention than they knew what to do with from the proprietors, and their food arrived fresh out of the oven in record time. It all probably had more to do with there being an alicorn in their party than any normal standards, but Trixie didn’t bother complaining.

When they finally got a little bit of actual privacy upon request, Princess Celestia said, “How have you been, Trixie? I usually keep an ear up for any news about my students, but the last I heard of you must have been…”

“Since you tossed Trixie out like used bathwater?”

Princess Celestia’s smile waned as she offered a little sigh. “My dear little pony, certain allowances are made at my school for magic gone wrong, but you recklessly exceeded them time and again despite every attempt we made to caution you. At some point, we had to consider the other students’ safety and your effect upon the learning environment.”

Trixie mutely harrumphed and turned away. The effect was somewhat lessened by the large bite of doughnut she ate, but what was she supposed to do? It was good.

Without warning, a very pink earth pony was sitting at their table. “Stand back, Your Highness,” the mare said. “I’ve got this. Now let’s turn that sad frown upside down.”

“Do you mind?” Trixie said. “This conversation has nothing to do with…” It was then that she noticed the mare had a golden necklace much like Laughter around her neck. Its pink gem, however, was cut in the shape of a balloon.

“If I may,” Princess Celestia began, “this is Pinkie Pie.”

Pinkie Pie gasped in far too much shock for such a simple thing. “You know my name? Can you read minds too?”

It was subtle, almost unnoticeable, but a hurt look flashed over Princess Celestia’s face. “Once, but no longer. Regardless, Pinkie Pie here bears the Element of Kindness. Pinkie Pie, may I introduce you to Trixie, the bearer for the Element of Laughter.”

“Ooh! Hello, Trixie. Nice to meet you. I’m Pinkie Pie, but I guess you already knew that. My friends call me Pinkie, and we’re going to be the very best from now on. I was going to ask for Laughter, you know, but then I ended up with Kindness first, and Twilight said only one Element per pony, and I just realized I should have called her Index because I don’t know if you know yet, but she did say that you saw through her disguise after a little too much partying, so I guess it doesn’t matter since you’d know right away anyway.”

By the stars, did that mare ever breathe? All Trixie had gotten out of that was the vague impression that she’d been not just an accidental choice for Laughter but not even the first accidental choice. She felt even more vindicated now for throwing it in the trash. Without Niian shielding her mind, however, the urge to go retrieve it had grown strong and stronger still now that it’d been brought up in conversation. Twilight Sparkle’s letter had mentioned she could summon it, in fact. She wouldn’t even have to leave the table. She probably just had to focus really hard on–

With a complete lack of fanfare, Laughter was around Trixie’s neck. The urge to summon it was gone, replaced by a strong desire to get rid of it again, but when she went to actually make the attempt, she found she couldn’t quite summon the will to remove it. Maybe she’d been a little hasty to throw it away. After all, if she had it, then nopony else could. That was the way these sorts of artifacts usually worked. It might be petty of her, but sometimes petty revenge felt best. She’d have to electroplate it later with silver or platinum, but for now – she lit her horn – a simple illusion spell would do. That looked much better.

Pinkie Pie let out a long sigh of relief for some reason. “We need to work on those mopey feelings of yours.”

“What? Trixie is not moping.”

“You totally are,” Pinkie Pie retorted. “Oh. And I’m just mixing in annoyance. Hmm… I’ll need a different approach with you.”

“What on Equus are you even talking about?”

Princess Celestia cleared her throat. “Kindness bestows empathic powers, Trixie, just as Laughter grants you inverse empathic abilities.”

“Oh yes, Trixie forgot about that.” She frowned down at Laughter. While she normally maintained a positive mood in circumstances other than whatever mess she’d been thrown into here, she didn’t want to go about infecting other ponies with her nice, dignified, sullen mood. That seemed like a good way to get everypony to hate her. She’d need to–

“Wait.” A wave of dread rushed through Trixie as she recalled something Pinkie Pie had said. Now that she had a little context, it sounded a lot less nonsensical and out of place. “Did you say ‘read minds too’?”

A very cheerful, “Yep!” met the question, completely unaware of the weight of what it meant.

I have to get out of town as soon as possible. The contract she’d signed hardly mattered. She’d take the hit to her reputation.

“Sweetie Belle has Generosity,” Pinkie Pie continued, thereafter proceeding to drone on about nothing about the, apparently, schoolfilly who had the mind reading Element.

Meanwhile, Princess Celestia leaned toward Trixie and whispered, “Generosity lacks a translation ability and only picks up language-based thought.” She then turned her full attention back to whatever drivel the pink one was spewing with an interest that had to be feigned.

Still, assuming the advice wasn’t a trap – and really, why should the princess deceive a completely innocent mare? – it removed the urgency to flee town at full gallop. Trixie knew Ponish well enough to freely flow between all of its past and modern incarnations while performing. She doubted a schoolfilly knew anything but the vernacular.

A few moments later, an earth pony and probably a unicorn entered Sugarcube Corner. The possible unicorn had a golden necklace just like Laughter and Kindness. Both mares froze upon spotting Princess Celestia. Their relatively good moods while under Laughter’s influence immediately plummeted as far as they could. While they appeared more nervous than terrified, that said plenty all on its own.

Trixie was beginning to see a pattern. She had enough self-awareness to realize that Twilight Sparkle had somehow managed to collect a bunch of weirdos and suspicious characters to bear whatever the Elements of Harmony were supposed to be.

As Pinkie Pie rose to greet the new arrivals and usher them over to the table, Princess Celestia said, “Bon Bon and Lyra Heartstrings. The latter is the bearer of the Element of Honesty.”

Trixie couldn’t help but snort in amusement at that. “Who is she really?”

“Ah.” It seemed Princess Celestia hadn’t expected Trixie to spot the active polymorph spell. “Those two will tell you their secrets when they choose to do so.”

The two new mares approached and, once near, dipped into a very low bow beyond what even those ignorant of royal protocol sometimes resorted to. The princess commanded them to rise, and Lyra Heartstrings spoke first once they had. “Your Majesty–”

Bon Bon elbowed Lyra Heartstrings sharply and hissed, “It’s ‘Your Highness’, Lyra!” That was a fairly big faux pas in Equestria. Most natives never made it.

“Oh! Sorry. Your Highness, I’m so sorry for the trouble I caused. Thank you for letting me stay.”

Well, that was interesting. Trixie wondered what that was about.

“While I would prefer you to have taken a different approach,” Princess Celestia replied, “both of you” – Bon Bon stared down at her hooves – “I understand how each decision you made led to worse ones.”

A long display of gratitude for the understanding followed, one largely unnecessary in Trixie’s opinion, before Bon Bon and Lyra Heartstrings sat down at the table. From how the pair leaned into each other, they were obviously a couple and probably a particularly sappy one without Laughter around.

“Hello, I’m Bon Bon, and this is Lyra. You’re Trixie, right?”

“The Great and Powerful,” Trixie added. She very deliberately turned her gaze onto Lyra and, after a moment to observe her more closely, slowly arched an eyebrow.

Lyra chuckled uneasily, leaning a little more closely into her marefriend. “I saw your duel with Twilight. You’re very good.”

“Hmph.” If that wasn’t a deflection, Trixie didn’t know what was. She could have pressed, but she would politely allow Lyra to retain whatever secret she kept. “Trixie is pleased to know some ponies recognize talent.”

The next pony to join the group came a few minutes later. He was an orange pegasus who slipped into a formal salute when he approached. The Element about his neck, like all the others, matched his cutie mark.

“At rest, Sergeant,” Princess Celestia commanded. “Congratulations on your promotion, by the way. I doubt Twilight realizes, but she informed me of it last night.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Continuing with a light scolding tone, Princess Celestia said, “I do hope you will remember that now is not the time to chase a certain tail.”

“Yes, well…” The stallion looked properly chastised. “The arch – Twilight made her position on such very clear last night. I understand the severity of the situation.”

Situation? “What situation?” Trixie asked.

Princess Celestia hummed curiously. “Did Twilight not inform you?”

She had not. And that was likely because Trixie had passed out. Hoping to preserve her dignity, she opted not to say a word more about that and merely shook her head.

“I see. In short, my sister is returning to Equestria.”

Trixie really hoped nopony, Princess Celestia especially, noticed her pale. Had she just been inducted into an anti-Luna task force?





Like most days, this was an excellent morning to lie in bed and relax in that blissful state between dreams and the waking world. She knew she should really get up and get back to her homework, and she certainly wanted to, but she’d already studied herself to exhaustion far past her regular bedtime. She deserved this.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to wake her?” came Rarity’s echoed words.

Sweetie Belle knew in some vague sense that Index and her sister were downstairs doing something together, but most of what she heard from them was gibberish. They shared a common language in Modern Ponish to communicate, and those spoken words echoed in their minds, but they’d both chosen a different language to do the remainder of their thinking in to preserve their privacy, which was no fun at all.

“No, I can wait a while still.”

A few moments passed, and then Rarity observed, “You certainly don’t look eager to meet up with the other bearers.”

While Sweetie Belle didn’t get a direct response to that, she imagined Index didn’t ignore Rarity’s pointed words entirely.

“Besides,” Index then said, “I’m happy to assist with your experiment. I’ve never made an artifact from scratch before. This is so exciting!”

Rarity was studying to become an artificer? Permanent enchantment was cutting edge magic! From what little Sweetie Belle had heard, that line of work required skill, precision, and dedication – which, upon reflection, she supposed her sister had.

“I know, dear, but do be careful with those chemicals. They stain. Everything.”

“Ahhhh, so that’s what that illusion–”

“Twilight Sparkle! One does not comment upon a lady’s beauty spells.”

Sweetie Belle froze in her bed.

“Here, let me get that for you.”

“Oh. Oh! Thank you. Could you teach me how to do that?”

It was such a mundane conversation for a secret of such magnitude to be revealed.

“Well… For skin and hair, I’d rather not. But fibers? Probably. You have an abnormal level of exactness with magic.”

“Darling, you simply must work on your delivery when it comes to compliments.”

Sweetie Belle jumped out of bed and set about making herself look as presentable as possible as fast as possible.

“You’re two or three standard deviations above average?”

“Now you’re just teasing.”

She was the protégé of the Archmage of Equestria! There mustn’t be a single hair out of place. Ever.

“Oh dear. You’re not teasing, are you?”

“Maybe a little. But my meaning is clear and precise!”

Did she need to take a bath? She’d taken one last night, but did she need another? She didn’t think so. She hoped she wasn’t mistaken.

“Yes, of course, dear,” Rarity said indulgently. “Now this won’t explode or anything when we remove it from its fastenings, will it?”

“Well, in theory–” After a moment of relative silence, the archmage continued, “Yes, well, no. The topology supports a few dangerous spells, but I don’t think you could fold the cloth into them even on purpose. But it won’t work, either, once you exceed the magics’ margin of error. It’ll just uselessly cycle ambient magic through it.”

Was a dress too much? It was too much, wasn’t it? The Archmage liked practicality.

“That’s why spatial magic is so core to this field. You need to map a variable surface into a complicated, rigid mesh in three-space. An introductory study of topology wouldn’t hurt you, either.”

“That’s what I have you for, darling. I don’t suppose you’d like to quit your job and go into business together?”

Sweetie Belle imagined her sister batting her eyelashes at the archmage. She knew she probably wasn’t far off the mark.

“Hmm… Relatively safe. Challenging. Lucrative. We’d have a near monopoly on the market. Tempting, Rarity. Very tempting. However, I’m afraid I’m otherwise tied up at the moment, what with that pesky matter of a possible regime change.”

“Oh that. Such a dreadful bore, really.”

Generosity didn’t pick up sounds like laughter, but those two were probably indulging heartily while Sweetie Belle was busy filing and polishing her hooves.

“To be honest, I wouldn’t mind doing some consulting work. This is an interesting field I wish I had more time for. I can mark up a spell diagram if you tell me what you’re trying to do. Within reason. That kind of stuff usually only takes a few minutes for me. If you want to make a transforming combat dress or something, you’ll need to learn the magic on your own.”

That sounded like an excellent activity for the Crusaders! Or it would have been had life not decided to send them their separate ways.

“Really? I’ll hold you to that promise, then. But that brings us back to where we were before we got onto this tangent. Are you sure you want to tell Sweetie Belle who you are? I know you were hoping to ease her into it so she wouldn’t be so…excitable.”

Sweetie Belle ground to a halt.

“Yeah. I remember what I was like with Celestia at that age. She still teases me about it from time to time. I treated her like the sun rose and set with her. Metaphorically speaking. She has dozens of embarrassing stories about me and hundreds of pictures. In my defense, she’s Celestia.”

“And you’re Twilight Sparkle. You may be fighting an uphill battle.”

“Ponies aren’t raised to almost-but-not-quite worship me.”

“Hero worship is much the same, darling.”

“I know. But I thought about it on the way over. All of the other bearers know who I really am, as it turns out, so somepony is going to slip up sooner rather than later. It’ll be less difficult for everypony if she knows. I already like her, anyway, which is the important part for the Elements. If Celestia could endure me, I’m sure I can endure her.”

Well. That changed things. Sweetie Belle looked in the mirror at all the extra effort she’d put into her appearance. If the archmage – no, if her teacher wanted her to just be herself, she could do that. Probably. She hoped. But wasn’t being herself because she was told to be herself a little contradictory? If she did, then being herself would be not being herself being not being herself by being herself. And that thought made her head hurt a little.

“Besides, it’s a little late to change my mind. From the pitter-patter of tiny hooves I’ve been hearing, she’s awake and eavesdropping.”

Busted!

“But how? I’ve kept my thoughts in Prench.”

“Spoken words echo across minds when ponies listen to and process them. It’s part of what makes Generosity so overwhelming at first. Celestia warned me about that, but I underestimated how bad it could get. I’m hoping Sweetie Belle’s mind learns to filter the noise before I have to return to Canterlot.”

“Yes, that certainly would make living in the castle difficult.”

Sweetie Belle frowned. She hadn’t considered that. While she could just take Generosity off as Index – no, as the archmage had reminded her yesterday, she really didn’t want to.

“Speaking of, I hope you don’t mind if I take her on a retreat of sorts. I planned to head out to my lab in the middle of nowhere with her and the other Element bearers.”

Through sheer force of will, Sweetie Belle managed to keep her excited squeal of delight to an appropriate minimum. Sure, they already knew she was listening in, but it wouldn’t do to be obvious about it without joining the conversation outright. Which she should do. Right now. She just needed to head downstairs first.

“There are already a bunch of us in the group, and I’d rather keep the risk of any extra stress on her mind at bay.”

“Please do. I’ll sort out our parents when they get back into town. If I might make a suggestion, you may wish to bring somepony her own age with.”

“Well, I do need to introduce her to Spike.”

“Oh hardly, darling. Those two have exchanged quite the number of letters already.”

“I figured, but letters aren’t the same.”

“True. And now, at last, we come to the moment of truth. Are you ready?”

Sweetie Belle arrived in Rarity’s workshop just in time to see them put the finishing touches on their joint project, a tiny piece of cloth stretched flat and fastened in place with pins. It flashed once along the magic sewn into it as it activated. Then above it, a tiny point of white light shined with about half the intensity of a lamp. It was the most basic of basic spells, in some ways simpler than telekinesis, but from the expressions on Rarity’s and the archmage’s faces, they might as well have just teleported to the moon.

“It works,” Rarity said first in a stunned whisper and then with unrestrained glee. “It works! Magnifique!”

The archmage, no less pleased in her manner, lit her horn to inspect the new artifact. “It does! And it looks fully stable, too! Should we try the hello world illusion next?”

Sweetie Belle stood stunned. It hadn’t really occurred to her that even the archmage would know that beginner’s exercise.

“Ooh, let’s!”

As they set about replacing all of their used materials with new ones, the archmage fell from exuberance into a pensive state. “You know,” she said, “I’m glad I got Sweetie Belle, no offense, but you would have been a good bearer for Generosity.”

Had the archmage really just said what Sweetie Belle thought she did? Rarity could have borne Generosity?

“I sort of feel like I’m missing out on something special.”

And that felt like a punch to the barrel. But then the archmage had said she was glad she had Sweetie Belle instead. But on the other hoof, she knew Sweetie Belle was listening in on their conversation. But then again, why would she even say it if it weren’t true? The Elements didn’t have room for that sort of doubt, right? And from what Sweetie Belle understood, Honesty could tell her the truth. Perhaps she was just way overthinking this.

Rarity looked up from her work. “Thank you, Twilight,” she said with a knowing smirk. “I’d very much like to be your friend as well.”

After a few moments of genuine shock, the archmage’s eyes softened, and her lips relaxed back into a smile. Too quietly for Sweetie Belle to hear via ears from the door, she said, “I think I’d like that.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’ll be neighbors soon, isn’t it?”

The archmage offered a nod, and nothing more was said on the subject.

“Well then,” Rarity began, “shall we get to it?”

“In a moment.” The archmage then, in all her glory without disguise, turned to look straight at Sweetie Belle. “Perhaps my protégé would be interested in a crash course on the subject beforehoof?”

Being the center of attention and with the weight of everything she’d heard since she woke on her shoulders, Sweetie Belle approached. Her stomach did flips with butterflies invited to watch the performance.

Then before she summoned the courage to meet her mentor’s eyes, the archmage spoke. “I did say I have secrets.”

So she had. Sweetie Belle made a few attempts at speech, but what did a filly say in this situation? The emotions welling up within her threatened to boil over out of her control, which was hardly the way the archmage wanted her to behave nor the way Rarity said a lady should.

The archmage sighed a little. “Do you want to know another secret?”

Rather than letting Sweetie Belle answer as was no doubt intended, Rarity let out a delighted, “Ooh! Do tell!” An askance glance from the archmage made her sheepishly clear her throat and turn away, pretending that she’d not said a word.

That little interruption aside, the archmage continued, “Celestia extended her offer to teach me in writing. I fainted outright when I read it. Until I finally met her and got it all out of my system–” She looked suddenly rather reluctant to continue. “–over a few…days. Yes. Days.”

In the background, unseen by the archmage, Rarity covered a smile and her silent laughter with a hoof.

“I didn’t accomplish anything useful until then. I’m not expecting any better from you. I believe I promised you an opportunity to talk with me anyway, so hit me with your best shot.”

Well, if she was going to be given explicit permission like that, Sweetie Belle opened her mouth.





It was a normal spring day in Canterlot. The sun was out, the birds were singing, and all good foals were playing. Such was the case for Flurry, Spike, and their new friend, Ocellus.

Flurry knew fully incorporating Ocellus into their little duo, now trio, would take time. The nymph was more self-conscious than anyone she’d ever met. But it would be worth it. Spike was great – the best cousin she could ask for, really – but having another member in their group who could fly couldn’t be beat. It opened up so many more possibilities! Pegasi had all sorts of games which only they could play. Sure, Aunt Twilight said Spike should grow wings someday, but who knew when that would happen.

Speaking of whom, Flurry caught a flash of emerald fire from below. Spike, the acting referee for their match, held a small slip of paper between his claws. After reading it, he waved his hands in the air and called for a time out. “Hey, Ocellus, can you magic some words onto paper or something?”

Not long after Ocellus flew down to help Spike out, Flurry decided she’d best take the opportunity for a rest presented to her if she wanted to keep dominating the match. Spike sent off a message of his own as she landed nearby.

“What was that about?” Flurry asked. “Another relay for Aunt Twilight?”

“Nah, she just wanted to know where–”

In a blink, Aunt Twilight appeared in their midst. Flurry yelped and took to the air, Ocellus reflexively took the form of a large rock, and Spike, used to such things, merely exchanged salutations with his mother. Flurry swore she did that on purpose just to get a reaction.

“Would you like to spend a few days in crazy land with me?”

Spike answered the question with a decidedly noncommittal hum.

“I could really use my number one assistant to help me out.”

Like a complete sucker, Spike latched onto the parental affection and said, “All right.”

“Great!” Aunt Twilight then finally turned her attention to the other ponies present – well, pony and rock, but the point remained. “Sorry to steal him away from you, girls. Nice to see you again, Ocellus.”

And like that, Aunt Twilight vanished with Spike in tow.

“Well, that happened,” Flurry said. She looked down at Ocellus. When nothing happened after a few seconds, she gave the rock a nudge with her hoof. “Hey, she’s gone. Let’s get back to our game.”





When the world stopped flashing by in a series of images, Spike found himself in what looked like a lab of some sort. He put a hand to his head. He hated long distance teleportation chains. Blinks and even short trips he could handle, but the long ones always made him feel sick on the other end even when he closed his eyes. How Twilight managed to endure them without even a bit of dizziness, he would never know.

“Where are we?” Spike asked. Looking around, if he had to describe it succinctly, he’d say one of Twilight’s dreams had managed to intrude upon the real world. There were chalkboards filled with equations, bubbling beakers with unidentified fluids dripping through tubes to other flasks until they ended up in separatory funnels, books piled neatly row by row upon their shelves, stray notes scattered about tables, devices of unknown purpose he couldn’t even begin to guess at, and more besides.

Twilight hummed uncertainly at first. “Well, we’re in my secret laboratory.”

It only took Spike a few moments to realize that of course Twilight had a secret lab hidden away somewhere in the world. Why would he have ever thought otherwise? That would be silly. It didn’t answer his real question, however, so he posed it again a little more pointedly.

This time Twilight replied, “We’re somewhere underground in the Frozen North. I honestly couldn’t tell you where we are on a map in anything but an approximate sense. I use landmarks to get here.”

“Right… And what are we doing here?”

“At the moment, I need to…” Twilight summoned a list from nowhere. “Unload a delivery of snacks. Clear out space for any potential sleepovers. Upgrade the bathroom a bit. Clean the labs. Check that the emergency teleport back to Ponyville is up and running so ponies can leave without me holding their hooves. Make backup backup copies of all documents here. And most importantly, relocate all of my important research so I don’t get scooped.”

“I can help with that,” Spike said. Well, except for the part about upgrading the bathroom, but that sort of went without saying.

Twilight pulled Spike into a short hug and gave her thanks. “Sweetie Belle should be around here somewhere. Why don’t you go find her and work together.” She then headed out toward the test chambers after dumping a massive pile of food out of her bag of holding.

Right. Sweetie Belle. It kind of stung that she’d found out about this place first, even if it’d probably only been by a few hours at most. And that she’d been the one to tell him about her apprenticeship, not Twilight.

Nonetheless, Spike set out to track down his new friend and his mother’s unexpected student. As it turned out, lab stood for labyrinth. Twilight had meticulously labeled every room according to its function, of course, but the corridors wound around haphazardly and often looped back into themselves. Worse, she had no maps posted anywhere. It occurred to him after some time wandering that she’d probably built this place in a natural cave system and added some extra tunnels just to make things even more confusing.

“Ladybug Room?” Spike scratched a claw along his jaw in confusion. Did that have something to do with that weird dance Twilight and Cadance did on occasion? He reached up to the doorknob and then peeked inside. The interior was smaller than he’d expected, but it wasn’t lacking in magical formulae complicated enough to make his head spin. Judging by the other equipment in the room, there was a biological component to whatever experiment was set up in there.

Hoofsteps approached, and with them came a high-pitched voice with an accent that offended the ear for being just subtly off. “As far as I could tell, she wants to kill ladybugs. Like, all of them.”

“What?” Spike took one last peek inside before shutting the door with a shake of his head. Perhaps Twilight should add hiding this room to her to-do list. “Why would she want to do that?”

Sweetie Belle shrugged.

“Weird.” Not that it was the strangest thing Spike had ever seen her get up to. The world was very lucky Twilight usually didn’t proceed from the planning stage to actual implementation when it came to that kind of stuff.

Spike turned his full attention then onto the filly just a few steps away. “So you’re Sweetie Belle?” She matched the description that the EIS had given him and Flurry. Her coat was a royal white as pure as snow, and the twin colors curling through her mane and tail added just the right flair. She had more of an active bookworm’s figure than Twilight, likely from the crazy exploits he’d read about in her file. For a filly on the cusp of marehood who probably spent too much time reading and spellcasting, she was inordinately pretty.

A blush erupted onto Sweetie Belle’s face. Realizing he’d probably been staring too long and that his eyes had slipped down to the absolutely delicious looking necklace she wore, he said, “I’m Spike. Nice to meet you in person.”

“L-likewise.” Sweetie Belle quickly spun on her hooves back toward the way she’d come from and gestured for him to follow. “I should get back to tidying the labs. I would welcome your help.”

Thus they traveled together through the maze to where Sweetie Belle had left off. Along the way, she explained that Twilight just wanted the labs to look presentable for her guests. She kept their tower clean by virtue of letting the castle staff maintain it for her, at least insofar as they dared. After all, one never knew when one of the archmage’s quills or pillows might turn out to be an evil enchanted artifact. Here, however, she was on her own, and it showed in buildup of dust and the general disarray she left some of the rooms in.

Once they finished cleaning the room dedicated to the study of Mage Meadowbrook’s Enchanted Cauldron, Sweetie Belle retrieved the list Twilight had given to her upon her arrival and placed a check mark next to the item in question. There were still an awful lot left on the list, in Spike’s opinion, but she’d made good progress already on her own.

“So is this what you imagined doing after becoming Mom’s student?” Spike asked as they walked to the next room.

“Well… Yes and no.” Sweetie Belle zapped a pile of dust she’d been sweeping up in the corridor, banishing it from reality. “My daydreams were a little unrealistic. I never thought I would actually be here. This is all so exciting!” A bit of a prance crept into her step before she visibly restrained herself. “Sorry, I know this must be normal for you, but–”

“Hey, I get it,” Spike said. He remembered Twilight acting like a complete excited, nervous wreck around Princess Celestia when he was younger. It took her more than a decade to grow out of it. “I can tell you all sorts of disillusioning things about her if you want.” There were her OCDs, her anxiety issues, her paranoia, her social indifference. The list went on and on. She had a lot more success at hiding them now, but that mostly came from covering them up one way or another with magic or being so blatant about them that nopony noticed.

Sweetie Belle, seemingly caught between wanting to defend Twilight and knowing that Spike really just knew her better, settled for a simple, “No thank you.” Her pale green magic latched onto the next lab door’s handle, but when she tried to turn it, it only clicked in place. “It’s locked.”

“Is it on the list?”

Said list floated in front of Sweetie Belle. “What room is this?”

“Project Apotheosis.” Spike read off the door. What does that mean?

Not a moment later, Sweetie Belle said, “I have no idea.”

“If it’s on the list?” Spike asked, confused.

Sweetie Belle shook her head. “No, I don’t know what the word means. I don’t think it’s Ponish. Or at least not Modern Ponish.”

“Ah.” Although that did leave Spike to wonder how Sweetie Belle had learned to read draconic expressions well enough to know what he was thinking.

“Oh. Did Archmage Twilight not tell you that I’m a telepath?”

Spike arched an eyebrow at Sweetie Belle.

“That’s what the Element of Generosity does.” Sweetie Belle tapped her mouthwatering necklace for emphasis. “Um… Please don’t eat it?”

The request, posed as an uncertain question, snapped Spike out of staring at it again. “Sorry. I guess it’s been a while since I got to eat a major magical artifact.”

Sweetie Belle stared at Spike like he’d just set her favorite book on fire.

“What? I’m a dragon. And Mom was just going to destroy them anyway. They were evil.”

After a few moments, Sweetie Belle said, “This is just something I’m going to have to get used to, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

It seemed Sweetie Belle had nothing more to say about that. She turned back to her list and skimmed through it. “Well, this room doesn’t need attention. Let’s move on.”





With much reluctance, Twilight forced herself to approach Sugarcube Corner on hoof and in disguise for the moment as Index. This was going to be a disaster. Trixie hated her. She strongly disliked Lyra and wished Flash didn’t exist. Sweetie Belle would probably not take kindly to Trixie for obvious reasons, nor vice versa. That was a powder keg just waiting for a spark, one Spike would no doubt help provide. Hopefully, Flash would keep his mouth shut and not add fuel to the fire. What a dysfunctional mess. The only pony she had no worries about whatsoever at this point was Pinkie Pie.

But Twilight had to make it work. She would make it work. Celestia’s freedom for who knew how many years, decades, centuries, or possibly even millennia depended on it. With any luck, their time kept waiting for her arrival at Sugarcube Corner unsupervised had given them a chance to break the ice and bond without her there to screw everything up even more than she already had.

Oh, who am I kidding? This is going to be a disaster. I’ll be lucky if I only kill half of–

Twilight froze in place and blinked at the unusually sudden downward spiral of her thoughts. That usually indicated magic at work. She took a few steps back, and after a few moments, the world seemed that much brighter for no particular reason.

Fantastic. Trixie is wearing Laughter and is… Twilight took a step forward, judging the weight placed upon her emotions. –scared, perhaps? Anxious? Worried? Whatever it was, it didn’t exactly bode well. She honestly hadn’t taken Trixie for the kind of pony who would succumb to such feelings before she’d first tried her best. Shows what I know, I guess.

Twilight took a step back again. She had plenty of practice crushing her emotions beneath an uncaring hoof while she finished a mission. She could do it here against artificially induced ones as well. She just needed a moment to collect herself and decide on a course of action.

Once ready, Twilight mumbled, “Right then. Once more unto the breach,” and then advanced.

Sugarcube Corner was less busy than usual at this time of day, likely owing to Laughter’s negative influence. It took no time at all to spot the group of four bearers plus Bon Bon gathered around a table overflowing with more than enough dishware to make up for whatever business had been lost to the gloom Laughter projected. Twilight even spotted an extra large plate that she suspected had once held a multi-layered cake. If Twilight didn’t know better, she’d suspect Celestia of having been here.

“Twi–”

Pinkie Pie held Trixie’s mouth closed. With a bright cheeriness completely unreflective of her current state, she said, “Index! Good morning.”

By now, Trixie had shoved Pinkie Pie off of her. “You’re late.” The accusation had a bit of bite to it and came with a spike in annoyance from Laughter.

Once upon a time, that would have really bothered Twilight, but Celestia had sat her down not long after becoming the archmage and explained that punctuality for them was, in fact, a courtesy, not something to which they should try to rigidly hold themselves. Now it only regularly bothered her. “I know. I’m sorry. I got caught up with Rarity.”

Lyra arched an eyebrow at her, and Twilight ignored it. It wasn’t not the truth.

“Anyway, is there any chance I could talk you out of wearing Laughter?” Twilight could force the matter, of course, but that wouldn’t do anything to endear her to Trixie.

Surprisingly, however, Trixie said, “Trixie will return shortly,” and teleported away. With her departure, Laughter’s influence thankfully went with her.

“So,” Twilight began, “has she been indulging in illeism the whole time?” As far as she could recall, Trixie had done so while drunk but not on stage. When she only got confused looks in return, she clarified, “Speaking in the third person.”

That got some recognition, chuckles, and brought some cheer back to what had been a somewhat gloomy gathering. Even Pinkie Pie had looked a little strained in her own way until Trixie had left. Twilight herself was happy to fade into the background at the table as the other four chatted and amused themselves.

I wonder what’s keeping Trixie?





With Niian shielding her mind again, Trixie threw Laughter into the very bottom of her wardrobe with only mild reluctance. The Element’s compulsion somehow still had its hooves deep inside of her, but it was manageable now, something she could tolerate like a bad itch during a performance.

That still left her with a few really very minor problems. Trixie summoned her staff from beneath her blankets, brought it to her workbench, and commanded its disassembly. Distance didn’t stop Laughter’s call from reaching her, so she needed Niian in a form she could keep on her person at all times. An amulet would do just fine. Functional, yet also a decisive slap in the face. Or gem. Whatever part of a necklace one slapped. At any rate, it wouldn’t take too long to turn the Night Guardian Staff into a superior necklace. She’d done this sort of sweeping overhaul work before after first retrieving it. With any luck, even Luna herself wouldn’t recognize it once she finished, much less Princess Celestia.

But that brought up the larger question of what to do. Trixie doubted she could find a hole deep enough to hide in if she ran. Over the course of breakfast, Princess Celestia had made it clear Laughter was hers for life. If she refused to cooperate, she could simply be removed from the equation. Really, she should cooperate. It would put her at the heart of everything. It would make her the princessmaker. Once the solstice had passed, whoever sat on the throne would have her to thank.

Yet that meant working with her worst rival. And a stallion who had an obvious infatuation with the mare. And a filly who, from what Trixie had heard, worshiped her the way most ponies worshiped Princess Celestia. Moreover, Trixie didn’t know if the Elements would actually do anything to Luna. Princess Celestia had only gone on about Nightmare Moon. It would be just her luck if the friendship beam had no or too little of an effect to matter.

And beyond that, in all honesty, Trixie still felt slighted thrice over, but only just. She didn’t want proper revenge, just petty revenge.

An idea sparked in Trixie’s mind. If she played this right, perhaps she could have exactly that. On the off chance the Elements actually did anything, such would probably be for the best. But if they didn’t, then Luna got a smack to the face and maybe a minor attitude adjustment while Twilight Sparkle would have no recourse but to cry over what a failure she was. It was the perfect plan!

It was a shame Princess Celestia would be collateral damage. Trixie didn’t want even nearly that much revenge on her. But it wasn’t like an alicorn wouldn’t live through whatever Luna had planned.

As she worked, Trixie began drafting what she would say when she finally got one up on Twilight Sparkle. Such a glorious moment couldn’t be experienced off the cuff.





Well, it’s probably nothing to worry about.

Twilight resisted the urge to keep watch over Trixie with some divination magic. When she’d left, she’d said she would return shortly, and Lyra had neither said a word to contradict that nor given her an odd look. She would be back soon enough.

“So, Index,” Bon Bon began, “where is Sweetie Belle? I thought she’d be coming with you.”

“I already took her up to my lab with Spike. There’s nopony else even remotely nearby who’s not invited, so Generosity shouldn’t bother her much when we’re all gathered.”

Lyra, probably the only pony present who didn’t know, asked, “Who’s Spike?”

“My son.” Twilight ignored the shock that produced. To be fair, she was young, unmarried, lacked any of the signs of a past pregnancy, and Lyra well knew how busy her position could keep her. Still, she decided to leave his species as a further surprise. Perhaps she should find a camera. “Rarity suggested I bring him, and I took her advice. Most novels skip over the fluff involved in creating and maintaining friendships, so I have no idea what I’m doing. Luckily, I have an expert on hoof.”

Pinkie Pie gave her thanks for the acknowledgment and suggested they start with a picnic with everyone present. Twilight shrugged. Lunch drew near, she’d skipped breakfast, and it seemed like as good an idea as any.

Looking over the crowd, Twilight had three government employees and Lyra, who rarely had employment. Taking these four and Trixie more or less out of civilization until the solstice wouldn’t be a problem. There were already procedures in place to have somepony cover for Bon Bon at her confectionery. Shining could deal with finding a replacement for Flash. Maybe he’d pick better this time now that she’d be out of Ponyville most of the time. Pinkie Pie…well, nopony else could really perform at her level, but Twilight was sure Mayor Mare would find an adequate substitute. Unless they’d completely ignored the instructions she’d sent to them last night, they would be ready to vanish at least for a few days as soon as Trixie returned.





At the proper entrance to Archmage Twilight’s lab, Sweetie Belle sat waiting with Spike for the rest of the bearers to arrive. They’d found a deck of cards in one of the labs and appropriated it for their own use. Roughly half of all card games were meant for unicorns on account of their magic, but dragon claws worked just as well in most cases.

To be honest, Sweetie Belle wasn’t sure what to make of Spike. He seemed nice in his letters. He was polite and eager to help. He certainly respected her abilities. He even thought she was pretty! A slight, crimson flush crept back onto her face as she recalled that, and she cursed the misfortune of being born with a white coat. Everypony noticed when she blushed.

But on the other hoof, they would slip into long silences every so often, moments when he frowned at her and imagined far more than he put into unspoken words. She wasn’t even sure if he realized he was doing it. It felt like he had a problem with her, but his thoughts never suggested as such. Sure, there were a few things she’d really have rather not overheard. Did she really sound so bad to a Canterlot native, for example? But she knew better than to take such things to heart. Everypony had those rude, meaningless thoughts pop into their heads from time to time. She didn’t need Generosity to tell her that he had them too. Even so, something just felt slightly off.

A surge of magic brought Archmage Twilight into the lab with a pair of earth ponies at her side. Sweetie Belle recognized them as Bon Bon, Lyra’s marefriend, and Pinkie Pie, Kindness’s bearer. The three quickly stepped forward and got out of the designated entrance to the lab. As far as Sweetie Belle knew, there were no wards explicitly preventing entry elsewhere, but around so many experimental magics, it was a matter of safety.

Lyra arrived next. Although it could be mistaken as mere tiredness, her sluggish movements and diminished presence, for lack of a more scientific term, indicated a mild case of magical exhaustion. “Whew. Haven’t made a trip that long in a while.” She fell into the waiting hooves of her marefriend. “I’m gonna need a few minutes and some snuggles to recharge.”

Although she rolled her eyes, Bon Bon stepped forward to take on that burden.

“Snuggles?” Spike mumbled. “Is she a changeling?”

“What’s a changeling?” The entire room stopped to look at her, half of it as obviously confused as Sweetie Belle was.

To the archmage, Bon Bon said, “She’s a real little security vulnerability, isn’t she?”

Although Sweetie Belle didn’t understand the language, she knew Lyra and the cadence of her thoughts well enough to know she’d wanted to say something snarky at Bon Bon.

“Spike or I will tell you later, Sweetie Belle,” Archmage Twilight said, although that left the question of why Bon Bon knew about whatever they were.

Pinkie Pie, then, of course wanted to know what changelings were as well, and one didn’t need to read minds to know Lyra, too, wanted to hear an explanation.

And so Archmage Twilight sighed. “They’re shapeshifting ponies who feed off love. They’re usually harmless, and you probably know a few. Don’t tell anypony about them.”

A stallion Sweetie Belle didn’t recognize popped into the room next. He was a pegasus, however, and had an Element around his neck, so she assumed he was Flash Sentry, the bearer of Loyalty. She would do her best to keep an open mind despite the archmage’s obvious dislike of him. They all needed to be friends come the solstice, after all.

That resolve had Sweetie Belle gritting her teeth as the last member of their group arrived. Trixie had made no mystery of her hatred for all things Twilight Sparkle. While the only pony – person present whose thoughts she could understand was Spike – Pinkie Pie’s were oddly silent – she overheard enough keywords that didn’t translate to know Trixie was thinking unkind thoughts about her mentor.

“Well then, everypony,” Archmage Twilight began, “welcome to my secret lab in the Frozen North. Feel free to use the facilities as you wish while you’re here, but if you’re unsure how something works, please ask. The exit, for those who need it, is in the test chamber. It’ll send you back to Ponyville. To Pinkie Pie’s room, to be exact. Just cry out ‘fubar’ to trigger the system.”

Sweetie Belle didn’t know what that meant, but she assumed it was suitably appropriate from the amused reactions it got from most of the group.

“This is built in an old cave system, so I apologize in advance if you get lost. The site is structurally stable at the expense of sensible organization. As Sweetie Belle and Spike helped me clear out a few old labs I wasn’t using anymore, there’s some space you can claim for yourself if you want it. Pinkie Pie assures me that sleepovers are essential friendship building activities, but the value of privacy cannot be overstated.”

With the introduction over, Archmage Twilight then said, “On another note, I believe Pinkie intended to host a picnic for us.”

Now that was interesting. Sweetie Belle had never been to a proper Pinkie party. They were always held past her curfew or even bedtime. She wasn’t sure if a picnic counted, but she was sure it would be fun nonetheless.





It was quiet. There was no wind, no snowstorm, no hail to break the silence, only the occasional quiet chatter between pairs. Pinkie Pie made a few attempts to start up a larger conversation, but they invariably descended into snippy, snarky, sarcastic comments from somepony, and then they all just stopped talking before a real argument could break out.

Twilight sighed to herself. Roughly half of the subsets of this group were functional, but the full set just didn’t work. She’d expected that, yet confronting it in reality still felt like a slap to the face. To distract herself, she pulled another lump of earth out from beneath the snow outside their protective bubble of warmth and extracted the carbon from it. That she compressed into a diamond easily twice the size of Spike’s fist. After inspecting it for any significant impurities, she levitated it over to him, still hot out of the oven as he liked them.

Spike, of course, happily dug in. He slowed as he ate, and halfway through, he collapsed onto his back. The diamond, still hot enough to burn, perched precariously atop his scaly stomach. Twilight flicked it safely out into the snow with a hoof and then rubbed his belly comfortingly, paying no mind to the sharp hiss of the rapidly cooling gem.

“I don’t ever want to see a diamond again,” Spike moaned.

Seeing the concerned look Sweetie Belle was giving her, Twilight said, So he says, but he never learns. But don’t worry. He’ll be fine in a little bit.

That got a weak smile but nothing more. Rather, Sweetie Belle asked, “Didn’t that burn?”

“Hmm?” Why would it – “oh. No. Dragon blood.”

“Dragon blood?” Lyra set down her sandwich as her thoughts played out across her face and connections formed. “When we – that fire – you’re a kirin, and you’re giving me a hard time?”

That slip up raised more than a few eyebrows.

Twilight shot back, “Kirin are harmless unless angered.” Or at least they were as harmless as any other spellcasting species. “And you’ve obviously never seen one. My draconic heritage is so diluted, it’s barely worth mentioning.”

A second later, Sweetie Belle spoke up. “Wait. Kirin are pony-dragon hybrids? Don’t dragons lay eggs? How does that work?”

Now that was an intellectual conversation Twilight could sink her teeth into to abate the endless silence that kept them all prisoner. “It’s fascinating, really. The hybridization only occurs between a unicorn mare and–”

Pinkie Pie pressed a hoof against Twilight’s muzzle from below, keeping her quiet. “When a mama unicorn and a papa dragon love each other veeeery much–”

After batting away Pinkie Pie’s hoof with one of her own, Twilight said, “She’s more than old enough to know how reproduction works.”

“Well, duh, but you can’t be so clinical about it, silly.”

“It’s far too romanticized as is,” Twilight said in her own defense. “You only make it more difficult to talk about when you dance around the subject. Do you know how frustrating it was to educate myself on the subject?” What a disaster that became. “Besides, this is the perfect opportunity to teach her about DNA and hybrid vigor.”

Trixie snorted loudly enough to interrupt the debate. “‘Hybrid vigor,’ says the hybrid.”

“If it weren’t for the nirik transformation, kirin would be a strictly better species than unicorns,” Twilight countered. “And even then, the ready access to draconic magic is arguably worth–”

“Regular foaling,” Spike interjected calmly and without embarrassment. However rude, it proved Twilight’s earlier point. She’d taught him everything he needed to know, leaving him well equipped for whatever life threw at him. “Only works when the female is a pony for obvious reasons. Only unicorns and kirin work. Not sure why. Probably something to do with chromosomes or magic. Viable offspring thereafter can come from any pony tribe after a pony-pony generation.”

That promptly ground the argument to a halt when Sweetie Belle simply nodded and said, “Oh.” How much of that she actually understood would need investigating later, but enough of it clearly got through to answer her question.

And so descended the silence once more in all its terrible glory.

Twilight, well experienced at waiting out awkward silences, joined Spike in lying on her back. The Frozen North’s aurora was out in full force, a brilliant streak of greens dancing across the sky in the solar wind. Even if the company had its flaws, this was a great place for picnics and outdoor work. If she had the time, maybe she’d install an illusion hooked into a scrying spell to simulate the sky in real time on the ceilings of her lab.

It could be a collaborative project with Sweetie Belle to introduce her properly to the divination and illusion schools of magic. Given her magical history, Twilight suspected she learned best through application rather than experiment. The metamagic necessary to tie the two components together might go over her head this early into her education, but it wouldn’t hurt to hoof wave that for now. If they could pull Trixie into the project, so much the better. Nothing brought ponies together quite like magic!

“So…” Flash drawled out uncertainly. After a long delay with many blank stares, he asked, “Kind of a personal question, I guess, but what species are you exactly?”

Lyra said, “I’m a unicorn,” and then buried her face in her sandwich.

Obvious lies are obvious, and there goes another failed attempt at conversation. Twilight sighed. Friendship wasn’t supposed to be this hard, was it? Maybe they should all just go back to fighting with each other.

Twilight blinked once, then twice, then finally fought off the urge to facehoof as she sat upright.

This has to be the worst idea I’ve ever come up with. Switching to Modern Equestrian for the moment, Twilight thought, Sweetie Belle, don’t respond to this. Just throw a snowball at Lyra.

Out of the corner of her eye, Twilight saw Sweetie Belle hesitate, an unsure look upon her face. Fortunately, in some sense of the word, the expression drew no notice in the current atmosphere.

Please, Sweetie Belle. I can’t be the one to start this. It would just make Lyra and probably Trixie mad.

It only took a few moments after that. Without so much as a nod, Sweetie Belle landed the first blow, pelting Lyra in her side with a small snowball. Once the initial shock had passed, bookended by Pinkie’s gasp, Twilight followed up with her own pair of snowballs. One hit Lyra dead on, but Trixie caught the one aimed at her.

With seven snowballs rotating ominously in her magic, ready to fire, Twilight smirked at the two principle threats sitting across from her. “Round two?”

Trixie responded first, beating out Pinkie shouting, “Snowball Fight!” by a fraction of a second. Twilight laughed as the snowball deflected off her shield and nailed Flash hard enough to knock him over.

“That’s definitely cheating this time, Twilight Sparkle.”

As she shed her coat of snow, Lyra muttered, “Says the pony who caught her snowball.”

“Playground rules, then?” Six blank looks – Pinkie Pie had already vanished – greeted Trixie’s question. “Are you all serious? Am I the only one with a foalhood around here?”

Sweetie Belle glumly admitted, “Miss Cheerilee forbids us from having snowball fights.”

“Sunshine was the same way before her,” Bon Bon agreed, annoyed in equal measure.

“Never mind the teachers. Few ponies at my school want to play, much less with me.” A suggestive flexing of Spike’s claws accompanied the remark.

Twilight mumbled, “Expelled,” and left it at that.

“Grew up on the coast,” Flash added. “Only had snow on special occasions.”

After a moment, Lyra said, “Also wrong climate.”

Trixie looked at each of them in turn as they made their excuses, her eyebrows only climbing higher with every moment. “You all have failed at foalhood. Allow the Great and Powerful Trixie to educate your ignorant minds.”

Twilight knew who she would be targeting first, and she had a feeling she wasn’t alone in that assessment.

“Telekinesis only, on snow only, and within arm’s reach only. And no catching snowballs, I suppose. We’re all a little more magically coordinated than most foals.”

Half the group looked first to each other and then came to some silent consensus.

“What about us?” Bon Bon asked on behalf of the non-unicorns present.

Trixie dismissed them with a wave of a hoof and an, “Eh, whatever.”

“What about forts?” Twilight asked. She was fairly certain they were an integral part of the sport.

After a few moments to consider the matter, Lyra spoke first. “How about ten minutes to go crazy and build whatever however we want. Snow only. No enchantments.”

Twilight clicked her tongue. Still, that gave her a lot of leeway even if she lacked formal training as a structural engineer, and field repairs would be easier than constructing fortifications on the fly.

“What about teams?” Flash asked. “If we’re allowing fortresses, there’s a bit of a power imbalance here.”

Without waiting, before Flash even finished speaking, Twilight wrapped Spike and Sweetie Belle up in her hooves. They were young, undisciplined, and less powerful than the other choices, of course, but she’d take the fire-breathing dragon with good range and fair accuracy any day in this sort of situation. That utility had no compare. Sweetie Belle was just a bit of bias on her part.

Besides, Twilight had already fought both Trixie and Lyra and had come out on top. It seemed only fair she take the least experienced members of the party. Everypony else but Pinkie Pie – who didn’t count because it was Pinkie Pie – had some level of combat training.





“Thus we need a larger budget for this year’s gala. We cannot allow Equestria to have anything less than the most extravagant, most anticipated social event in the world lest our reputation suffer.”

Moon Dancer shuffled through the papers presented to her in written form, fact-checking against what Lemon Hearts had said and what little she knew about both the Grand Galloping Gala and international politics. Although Raven Inkwell, Princess Celestia’s seneschal, stood nearby taking notes for both her and the princess, she took little comfort from it. She couldn’t just ask Raven to make a decision for her without undermining the authority temporarily invested into her and maybe even having that come back to bite Twilight in the rear someday. There was really only one good decision she could make right now.

“The crown has heard your petition and will deliberate over the matter,” Moon Dancer replied. Sure, it was a lame excuse to avoid making a choice, but she didn’t have Princess Celestia’s massive cache of political and financial knowledge to fall back on. “We’ll send word when we’ve reached a decision.”

Lemon Hearts bowed – probably the most genuine one Moon Dancer had received all day – and departed. With that business done, she called for a brief recess and then retired to the private audience chamber behind the throne room. She dumped the documents she’d received since this whole ordeal had started onto a table and found a comfortable chair to collapse into.

Raven automatically set about organizing the discarded papers. “You’re doing well,” she said encouragingly.

“I guess.”

“Objectively better than Her Excellency,” Raven added.

Moon Dancer rolled her eyes. The princess had told her that story. Considering that Twilight had purposefully terrified half of the ponies in line and sent them running for their lives, that hardly meant anything. “When Princess Celestia asked me to cover for her, I thought it would be for one or two petitions at most, not the entirety of today’s open court.” This wasn’t what she’d signed up for. Not that she would refuse to help at this point.

“I’m sure whatever is keeping Her Highness is important.”

A knock on the back door, not the one leading into the throne room, made Moon Dancer groan. How did Twilight ever find time to do all her research, raise a foal, and finish the work she’d passed off to Princess Celestia with a schedule this busy? Raven, of course, promptly invited their guest to enter. Moon Dancer immediately recognized her as Spitfire, the Captain of the Wonderbolts. The very same Wonderbolts who were currently fully active in their military role. This couldn’t be good news.

“Archmage Regent,” Spitfire began, “we have a report of an unusual weather disturbance in the Frozen North.”

Moon Dancer arched her eyebrows. “The Frozen North is filled with wild weather and untamed ice magic.”

“Hence the keyword unusual.” And that was a fair point. “One of my Wonderbolts flew closer, and… Well, you’d best read it for yourself.” Spitfire passed off the letter she had tucked under her wing.

As Moon Dancer read, her brows furrowed together into a deep valley. This couldn’t possibly be right. The Frozen North had more treacherous weather than the Everfree Forest in many ways, but even its worst blizzards were just long, heavy storms.

At this moment, Princess Celestia walked into the room, returned at long last from wherever she’d been and chatting with Princess Cadance at her side about the new pegasus school the latter had been working on. The subject had noticeably caused Spitfire’s ears to perk up, but her professionalism, Moon Dancer assumed, prevented her from prying into state affairs which were none of her business.

Once Princess Celestia noticed the room’s other occupants, she broke off her conversation with Princess Cadance. “Ah, a recess, I take it? Excellent timing. Please catch me up.”

As a potential magical weather crisis had a far greater urgency, Moon Dancer put it first on the docket. “Can you verify this report for me?” It fell firmly under her purview to resolve as the archmage regent, but she lacked the level of power necessary to scry a location so far away or teleport there in minutes as Twilight would. Chained teleports sadly only worked for those who recovered magic fast enough to keep them up, and such stamina had never been something she’d possessed much interest in building. She’d never had a need for it, after all.

Princess Celestia had barely even agreed before she completed the spell with a flick of her horn. “Oh my. That is a very localized storm. Of snowballs. While certainly artificial, I doubt anypony loyal to my sister would…” Her smile thinned for a moment. “No, this is most certainly something my sister would arrange for, but not as a threat. I doubt she…” And this time she broke into melodic laughter. “Oh, Twilight.”

“Auntie?”

Princess Cadance didn’t need to ask the obvious question on everypony’s mind. With no further prompting, Princess Celestia tied an illusion spell into her scrying to show the scene to everypony present. It was certainly not what Moon Dancer had been expecting from the report she’d read. Nor, as she stared, mouth hung open, did she expect the sound of popcorn popping in Princess Celestia’s magic while Princess Cadance rearranged the room’s seating for a better view.





“Above you!” Bon Bon shouted.

Trixie’s and Lyra’s heads snapped up together. Their magic flew out and pressed against the snow, stopping the imminent collapse of the ceiling.

Lyra breathed a sigh of relief. She offered a brief, “Thanks, Bon Bon,” before returning to digging forward through the snow with Trixie. As far into the Frozen North as they were, the landscape might as well be a lake of the horrid stuff. It made traversal treacherous but perfect for sneaking around.

“Curse that Flash Sentry,” Trixie grumbled. “How did he manage to whip up this weird blizzard so fast?”

While Lyra had a few ideas herself, Bon Bon answered first. “Probably commandeered a wild blizzard in a joint effort with Pinkie. It’d be hard, but not impossible. Especially with her help.”

“Bah! I still don’t believe what you’ve told me about her.”

Lyra sympathized. She’d not really appreciated how unusual Pinkie was until after she’d lived with Bon Bon for a while, but she’d known enough about earth ponies to be confused even when they’d first met. “I think Twilight made a big fuss about it, too. I heard a rumor about her observing Pinkie a while ago.”

“Hmph. No sense of priorities. No sense of fair play, either.”

“No kidding,” Lyra muttered. “I can’t believe that cheap shot she made on our fort.”

“At least we got out uninjured,” Bon Bon said.

Lyra twisted her neck in time with Trixie to glare at her marefriend.

“Er… At least we got out without being disqualified?”

Trixie gave Bon Bon a satisfied nod. “Lyra, you got a good look at the damage to Twilight Sparkle’s fort, right? Thoughts?”

“It’s in bad shape, and the snowball blizzard will tear it apart eventually. She’s going to be busy just keeping it upright. If she doesn’t abandon it, that is.”

An downright evil grin grew on Trixie’s face. “So she’ll never see us coming. Excellent.”

Lyra greatly approved despite her seapony side’s disapproval.

“Not quite,” Bon Bon said, ruining the moment. She then simply said, “Sweetie Belle.”

Generosity’s range was long enough to give a decent warning. That could be a problem. “What if we infiltrated without thinking? It only picks up actual words, right?”

“A single stray thought would cost us our element of surprise,” Trixie began, but her frown turned thoughtful as she then mused, “But there’s no doubt that’s what they’re counting on.”

“Rightly so,” Bon Bon commented.

Trixie, however, shook her head. “Oh ye of little faith. Do not doubt the Great and Powerful Trixie! But you two, especially together, I’m not so sure of.”

Lyra felt a light blush settle onto her face. Guilty as charged. “Bon Bon and I will wait here, then.” She turned to her love. “This level of…play” – and didn’t that bring up unpleasant memories of home – “is too dangerous for you to storm Twilight’s base anyway, and I’d rather not leave you alone underneath all this snow for obvious reasons.”

Although begrudgingly and with a few muttered words too indistinct to parse, Bon Bon acquiesced to the course of action with the assistance of a few reassuring sweet nothings. She was still Lyra’s secret scary monster hunter even if she backed down from whatever tricks and traps Twilight had ready for them.

Trixie, utterly failing to read the mood, gave out further instructions as she continued digging. “You two set up a bunker and give me what artillery support you can to distract the enemy.”

Lyra sighed, and Bon Bon looked more than a little miffed at the interruption herself.

“Give me five minutes before you open fire. I still need to find Twilight Sparkle’s fort under all this snow.”





Twilight stood atop a platform of floating snow, all of which was most certainly within arm’s reach. Her job at this point consisted solely of emergency repairs. The fight with Trixie and Lyra had left it crippled, and the blizzard Flash had cooked up wasn’t helping. The added snowfall would make the tower collapse under its own weight sooner or later if she wasn’t careful. Abandoning the fort was the best course of action at this point, but she’d been outvoted by Spike and Sweetie Belle’s adamant determination to defend it to their dying breath.

Foals. Twilight shook her head in fond disapproval. But this game will never end if we can’t find each other under the snow, so I suppose it’s fine. Hopefully, Sweetie Belle can snipe Flash while I deal with any infiltrators. In truth, her chief worry was if somepony punched a hole in the foundations. The whole tower would come crashing down, and her team would lose by default when she had to teleport them out. She didn’t think that would satisfy Trixie, but Lyra and Bon Bon might outvote her on the choice of tactics.

A snowball whizzed by only a few steps in front of Twilight. It blew a sizable hole through one of the support columns.

Well. What more could be said? Hopefully, Sweetie Belle knocked Flash out soon. Lyra, Trixie, or both were getting more precise. Twilight needed this blizzard to stop so she had the time to return fire.

On that note, Twilight patched up what damage she could fix with the supply of snow available to her and then headed down to the ground floor to pick up another load, inspecting the damage to the fort along the way.

One of these walls is going to give soon. And if one did, it would all be over. I’m going to need to step outside again to perform external work.

Halfway down the last staircase, Twilight was blown into a wall by a barrage of snowballs.





“Argh! Come on! Why! Can I not! Hit! You!” Sweetie Belle flung snowball after snowball to punctuate her cries. The target of her fury, Flash Sentry, dipped in and out of cloud cover. Every shot she sent his way utterly failed to hit him. If the blizzard didn’t send them wildly off course, he dodged with a mocking ease. From time to time, he would hover in place, and although it was hard to tell, it looked a lot like he yawned when he did.

“Hey, Sweetie Belle,” Spike said. “Calm down.”

Turning on Spike, her partner, her comrade in arms, Sweetie Belle wailed, “But he’s taunting me!” much as her sister would if somepony purposefully got dirt on her hooves. “And – and – argh!”

Spike draped a comforting arm across Sweetie Belle’s shoulders. “Look, I get that you’re Mom’s student, and that’s cool and all, but trust me. Her temper is not something you want to pick up on.”

That was probably good advice. Sweetie Belle forced herself to take a step back and breathe deeply, pushing Flash Sentry from her mind. When she calmed a little, she said, “Sorry, Spike. Today has just been…very up and down.” If nothing else, a group of eight people, herself included, was really pushing how much she could tolerate from Generosity right now.

“No worries. Mom has those days all the time. Comes with the territory.”

Territory? “You mean being a kirin?”

Spike shook his head. “Nah. For one, she’s a unicorn in basically every way. Besides, kirin aren’t any more prone to anger. It’s just a lot more explosive. It’s the job. Way too much stress in her life.”

“Huh.” After a moment to absorb that, Sweetie Belle asked, “Being the archmage isn’t very fun, is it?”

“Eh, it has its moments. I know she – oh! I found Pinkie!”

Sweetie Belle rushed to follow Spike’s claw out into the tundra. They’d been looking for her since the game began. “Where?”

“See that ball of snow moving out there?”

“I don’t… Oh!” Through the blizzard and the narrow arrowslit, it was nearly impossible to spot her, but Sweetie Belle found the tiny patch of pink moving against the endless sea of white. “Keep an eye on Flash Sentry for me.”

“Sure thing.”

Sweetie Belle fired shot after shot in the general direction of her new target, her aim improving with every try. There was no risk of running out of ammo with the storm outside constantly raining more down at her. But once she started hitting in the correct neighborhood, the futility of her attempts became clear. Pinkie simply dipped out of sight whenever a snowball should have hit her.

Doesn’t Pinkie have a Pinkie Sense for falling objects? Upon reflection, Sweetie Belle felt certain she did. “Spike, I think Pinkie is a lost cause. Keep an eye on her for Archmage Twilight. I’ll focus on Flash Sentry.”

“Hmm… All right, sounds good.” Spike pointed up into the sky this time. “Flash hasn’t moved much. He’s still hovering under the bare patch of sky in the storm.”

“That seems suspicious.” Sweetie Belle gnawed on her lip as she resumed fire on Flash. She got a small smile when she tore the tiny cloud he had been resting on to pieces. It didn’t hit him, but it was about sending a message.

Spike promptly agreed. “If anything Uncle Shining has taught me is accurate, he’s obviously a distraction for Pinkie. He might just be hoping we get into a melee with his team in the eye of the storm, but I’ll try to figure out what they’re up to.”

Stomping a hoof to the floor, Sweetie Belle let out another frustrated scream. “I almost had him that time!” Then she processed what Spike had said. “Sure. Just signal Archmage Twilight if needed.”

“You know, you can just call her Twilight.”

Sweetie Belle shook her head. “I couldn’t do that.” She’d not even come close to earning that level of familiarity. Rarity would – well, Rarity had taken to doing so, but who knew what that was about.

Spike slapped a hand to his head. “Wow, déjà vu.” He made no further explanation than that even when asked, merely returning his full focus to the game.

Sometime later, Spike asked an odd question. “Hey, Sweetie Belle? How strong is Pinkie?”

“How strong?” Sweetie Belle turned her attention away from Flash momentarily. “Well, she is an earth pony, so very strong. Why do you ask?”

“Well, it’s just, she’s rolling that huge ball of snow around like it’s nothing.”

Spike had a point, even if Sweetie Belle didn’t see the point of it. “And?”

“Yeah, that’s the thing. What’s she going to do with it?”

Sweetie Belle froze. What is she going to do with it? “Do you think–”

“She’s going to throw it at us,” Spike finished in his thoughts. A moment later, he realized what he’d done and continued, “Yeah, pretty sure. And she’s been missing the entire game before I spotted her. How many do you think she has?”

An uneasy feeling crawled up Sweetie Belle’s spine. “Maybe Archmage Twilight had a point about leaving – oh no!”

“What’s up?”

“Trixie just took her out!”

“What?” Spike cried, spinning in place toward Sweetie Belle. “How did she sneak up on you?”

“I have no idea, but we need to brainstorm now. What do we do? Trixie is heading up here.”

“The tower’s linear. We can ambush her like she did Mom.”

“Ehem.” Trixie faked a cough in her thoughts. “Sweetie Belle, the Great and Powerful Trixie has slain Twilight Sparkle. You have two choices before you. You may join me and perhaps have a small chance at victory, or you can perish here. I have no need of this fortress…” The suggestion was clear.

“Horseapples!”

Spike faked a scandalized gasp.

“Oh, ha ha,” Sweetie Belle said dryly. “Trixie just threatened to destroy the tower. She wants us to join her.”

“You have one minute. Send Spike down alone to discuss the terms.”

“And apparently we only have a minute for you to go down alone,” Sweetie Belle added.

Eyes widening, Spike bolted for the stairs. It was a long climb down, and the snow made for treacherous footing.

“Wait!”

Spike halted at the top step and turned back to Sweetie Belle.

“We’re probably going to lose either way.” However disappointing to think, it was the truth. “But we can make sure Trixie loses, too.”

Lips curling into a smirk, Spike said, “Revenge. I like it. How?”

It was simple. “Keep her here.”

Spike needed no further prompting. One name ran through his thoughts. “Pinkie.”





Lyra’s jaw dropped. She rubbed her eyes. She pinched herself with her magic.

No, she was not dreaming.

A giant snowball, easily three ponies in diameter – and thus mostly not within arm’s reach – flew through the air from off in the distance. When it collided with Twilight’s fort, it ripped a gaping hole open in its side, causing irreparable damage to the structure. The tower fell in on itself in slow motion, crumbling piece by piece, but that was not enough for the mystery assailant.

Another giant snowball impacted the fort. And another. And another.

One hit near the very top of the tower and sailed onward right through it, a small patch of blue plastered against the near side when it emerged from the structure. Two small dots, one purple and one white, fell out of the tower in its wake on a collision course with the ground. Lyra prepared to teleport to their rescue, but it appeared Twilight had everything well in hoof.

Lyra turned her attention back to the skies. Her mission had long since changed from dealing structural damage to joining the sniping attempt on Flash. However, he was no longer anywhere to be seen.

But he was somewhere to be heard.

“Hello, friend.”
> Chapter Fifteen - The Wayward Students
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“The experiment was a disaster. It worked, technically speaking, but the test subject is dead. It likely wouldn’t have been fatal for a larger animal, such as a pony, but the consequences… I would like to take a moment to thank my mentor for her scoldings and my own student for sticking her nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

And that brought the experiment to a close. It might become necessary to reopen it in the future, but for now, there were other possible avenues to explore.





By mutual unspoken consent, neither Twilight nor Luna brought up last night as the remainder of the former’s dreamwarming party finally played out. When the group finished their interrupted game of diplomacy and conquest, Twilight took a respectable second place while Berry Punch, the last person she’d expected, won the game.

Once they’d then put all the pieces back into the box, Twilight duplicated the game. It took her but a few minutes to add a game closet to her tower, where she put the copy. Alone on the shelves, it looked rather lonely. She’d need to fill the room out sometime soon. It’d certainly be a lot easier to accomplish than her library.

Time passed, and Twilight made the mistake of reminding Ember and Autumn that she’d installed a tavern upstairs. She felt Luna’s pain as she realized too late that letting them go pick up drinks alone had only one outcome. When she teleported up there after them, she found them already in the process of burning it down while fighting each other. She conjured up a pair of windows in the bar just so she could fling them out of her tower properly. As she did, she shrieked, “Take it outside!” at the grinning and laughing duo.

It was a mild blessing that the tavern hadn’t been completely destroyed. It seemed Ember and Autumn had kept their scuffle more on the wrestling and fire end of the spectrum this time, rather than using chairs and tables as improvised weapons. That likely had more to do with the continued presence of pain in this dreamscape rather than any courtesy, but Twilight would take what she could get. She repaired what she needed to and left the autonomous staff to put everything back in its proper place.

Soon enough, as had become routine, her guests dropped out one by one until Twilight found herself with only Luna for company while she slept. She had no idea what to say after last night, so it was fortunate that Luna took the lead. Once they’d holed themselves up in the repaired tavern at their usual table with mugs of delicious cider, Luna broached a very different subject than she’d expected.

“I fully lost Loyalty and then Laughter last night.”

Twilight blinked, surprised, and then, however unnecessarily, slowly nodded. 

“Did you at least hoof them out to worthy successors?” When Twilight’s eye twitched, Luna’s narrowed in turn. “What vagabonds did you give my Elements to?”

“I don’t even know where to begin.”

It was somewhat ironic that Luna was the only pony she could complain to. Twilight had to keep a strong front up in the waking world when around the bearers, her family, and especially Celestia. Sunset wanted nothing to do with her. Moon Dancer might lend a sympathetic ear, but she had enough trouble managing Celestia. Who did that leave? Just Luna.

“I think there might be something wrong with the Elements,” Twilight admitted. It’d been a worry she’d dismissed at first, but now she had a full set of misfits, herself included. “Honesty went to a pony who faked her own death, snuck into the country, and has lived her life since under an assumed identity and species.”

Luna had nothing to say to that and, visibly stunned, made no attempt to stop Twilight from continuing.

“Loyalty went to a persistent pest.” Saying much more than that, unfortunately, would probably reveal Flash’s identity with a little digging. “Laughter went to the biggest narcissist I’ve ever met. I will admit, however, she’s also the best showpony I’ve ever met, so that one sort of makes sense.”

For the longest time, Luna said nothing. Brief glimpses of her turning thoughts played across her face in frowns and furrowed brows rather than the expected laughter and gleeful smiles.

That worried Twilight far more. “What is it?” she pressed.

Luna hummed lowly and with worry. She then went on to say, “This is most troubling. It is not solely my banishment that the Elements of Harmony maintain.”

A tiny little piece of information Twilight had stumbled upon at the beginning of all this leapt to the forefront of her mind. “Discord.” The name escaped her lips as a whisper of dread. Civilization hadn’t yet fully recovered from his last advent.

“Indeed,” Luna said solemnly. “As his new keeper, I highly suggest you examine his seal as soon as possible. If my sister’s misuse of the Elements permanently damaged them, we may have a larger problem than our own issues.”

Deep down, some part of Twilight hoped that was the case, because that would get Luna and Celestia to work together, but the sane and thankfully dominant majority of her mind thought otherwise. “I don’t suppose you or I can wake me right now?”

“Unfortunately not. I currently lack the power, and teaching you the greater secrets of dreamwalking to enable such a feat would take far longer than simply allowing you to awaken naturally.”

Unfortunate indeed, yet Twilight’s eyes shined bright with interest. Whether that had been an intentional slip or not hardly mattered. “That can be taught?” She’d assumed not since she’d never heard of dreamwalking, an absurdly useful skill, before discovering Luna’s existence.

Luna’s pensive frown was an answer in and of itself, but she said, “In theory, yes. I’ve had no success doing so in the past, but I’ve not tried in centuries, and science marches on. ’Tis not something to learn whilst dreaming, however.”

“Trying to tempt me?”

“Nay. We have already made our wager.” With unshakable confidence, Luna added, “I have no need of such tricks.”

Twilight wished she felt such surety. But that did bring to mind something she needed to ask about. “Speaking of our wager, we forgot to address what happens to the Elements and their bearers.”

Surprisingly, after a long sip of her cider, Luna said, “Nothing. I have no reasonable way to keep them from you, and they are an invaluable tool that has long lain unused.”

“You’re just going to trust me with them?” Twilight found that very hard to believe even if Luna had a point. She had Magic; there was no keeping the Elements from her while she yet lived.

“Are you not a mare of your word?”

Twilight bristled as she replied, “I am.”

“Then when I triumph over you and my sister, I needn’t worry about the Elements.”

“That’s it?”

Luna nodded. “That’s it.”

Although Twilight eyed Luna suspiciously, Luna just smirked and knocked back her mug of cider. There had to be something more to it than that, but for the life of her – or maybe five others – Twilight couldn’t think of what. Luna certainly wasn’t telling and indeed only looked more amused for the distrust she received like she was in on some great joke that had flown over Twilight’s head.

Cautiously, Twilight asked, “Would you be willing to add that as an official term of our bargain?”

“On one condition. I doubt you would stoop to such methods, but neither of us will bring harm upon a bearer without just cause nor allow it to occur if reasonably preventable.”

“In other words,” Twilight began, “I have to make do with who I have?”

Luna nodded.

She’d not given it any serious consideration, but Twilight did have to admit the thought of rolling the dice again with Loyalty had crossed her mind. With all the others, she could at least envisage what a friendship with them extending past the solstice might look like, but with Flash, she had no idea. Still, she would find a way. Even if she was willing to kill a pony who’d merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time, Celestia wouldn’t want such sacrifices made in her name. Magic would probably disown Twilight, too, if she followed through, and the other bearers wouldn’t ever trust her again. Not that it would matter if she lost Magic, but still.

Besides, if there was even the slightest chance that something was wrong with the Elements, it would hardly do to put them through that sort of stress test. The last thing the world needed was Discord unleashed.

Twilight extended a hoof. “Deal.”

Nodding, Luna tapped her own hoof to Twilight’s, and they shook on it.

“You do realize I am a bearer as well, right?”

“Of course,” Luna replied. “If Equestria’s archmage somehow got in over her head, I would, naturally, leap to her defense regardless. It would be a heavy blow for my kingdom and my reign if she were hurt.”

That was a fair point, Twilight had to admit.

“Twilight, my sister may put us at odds, but what other reason do we have to quarrel?”

After a few moments, Twilight reluctantly replied, “None in particular,” last night notwithstanding. “Policy, perhaps, but we’ve yet to speak on such matters.”

“Is it not your policy to smash everything my sister points you at?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “It’s a little more nuanced than that.”

“Aha! You do not deny the thrust of it. What I would have given to have you at my disposal a thousand years ago.”

Unable to help herself, Twilight rolled her eyes again and turned her attention to the cider she’d barely touched since she’d first sat down. Finding it warm, she cast a spell to chill it once more and then took a long drink. There would be another time to discuss such things.

For now, Twilight had a minor revelation she felt best to get out of the way. “You should know my protégé has Generosity.” She didn’t see any need to hide that information now that the deal had been struck. If the withholding of information was going to upset Luna, better to let her get over it now while she couldn’t hurt Sweetie Belle.

But Luna merely chuckled. “The one you threatened to destroy me over? Given the timing and your history, I imagined it was that or Kindness.”

While that didn’t do Sweetie Belle’s magical talents proper justice, Twilight couldn’t fault the guesswork or the conclusion.

“But if we’re to make such confessions, would the bearer of Laughter happen to be the Great and Powerful Trixie?”

Twilight froze, and a moment later, she realized that was all the answer Luna needed. “How?”

“A clue here and a whisper there. She may have cast me aside in a fit of pique, but I still like to keep tabs on my own student. Certainly, if she got into a fight with the archmage, word would get back to me.”

It took a full second for that information to parse in its entirety.

Twilight banged her head against the table.





“I should ask Celestia for advice. But I can’t do that! If she finds out about this, she’ll know just how badly I screwed up and recall me back to Canterlot. I’m not going to let her give up like that. There’s always mind magic. A few – no, I can’t do that either. The Elements would object. And it’d be wrong. I made a deal, and I have to live with it. I just have to make this work. I’m sure I can. She’s not even on good terms with her right now. Granted, neither am I, but how hard could fixing that be? It’ll be fine. It’ll all be fine.”

Despite trying and burying his head under his pillow, Spike couldn’t get back to sleep with Twilight pacing and rambling on about whatever in the background. He sat up and cried, “Some people are trying to–”

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Twilight said. It seemed she didn’t understand why that was so. “I’m heading out to run a few errands. Do you need me to pick up anything while I’m at it?”

“A vacuum flask filled from the Stream of Silence,” Spike muttered.

Then just to prove Twilight wasn’t really listening, she said, “Sure, no problem. You’re in charge while I’m gone.” She then left without missing a beat, practically slamming the door behind her in her haste.

The noise finally managed to rouse Sweetie Belle. She groaned and rolled to hang partially over the side of the cloud she was using as a makeshift bed. One hoof came up to rub at her eyes while the other covered a yawn. “What’s going on?” she asked drowsily.

“I’m not sure.” Even as the fog covering his own thoughts subsided, Spike found no answers. He did recall one thing, however. “But did you hear? She left me in charge.”

“Okay.” Sweetie Belle yawned and rolled fully back into bed.

Spike harrumphed. No respect. Still, he was tired, too, and made the executive decision to pursue more sleep as well.





In one of the many anecdotes Princess Celestia had delivered during the time they’d spent alone together, Moon Dancer had learned that the Royal Guard traditionally consisted of two distinct divisions. Its current incarnation consisted entirely of the Day Guard, those ponies whose loyalty began and ended with the princess herself. In theory, a Night Guard existed as well, but buried under more bureaucracy than a mare could shake a stick at, it’d become defunct in every way that mattered not long after their princess’s banishment.

Regardless, there was, it should be noted, no such thing as the Evening Guard.

Two mares stumbled into Twilight’s office, clearly freshly returned from some harrowing experience. One of them bore a vague resemblance to Twilight through her coloration. The other was as tall as any stallion and looked physically stronger than a unicorn had any right to be. Moon Dancer did her best not to stare at the mare’s broken horn nor the scar over her eye.

“Evening Guard reporting in, Your Excellency,” the tall mare said. “Mission accomplished.”

After a few seconds to process what she was staring at, Moon Dancer simply nodded slowly. She’d seen stranger things while filling in for Twilight.

“Starlight has some thaumic burns, and I obviously need another polymorph.”

Oh, that was brilliant! If the tall mare could still channel magic, then a unicorn to unicorn transformation could provide her with an intact horn for spellcasting. A full polymorph was a bit overkill, but Moon Dancer supposed it did come with other benefits.

“I think I can do that.” It’d been a while since Moon Dancer had cast anything that complex, but she should only need to brush up on her memory of the spell. She knew Twilight had a book with it somewhere in her office. It took her a little while to find it, but find it she did. “Right, then. Hold still. This will take a moment.”

Moon Dancer cast the unfamiliar magic with care. If she did something wrong, the tall mare had a fair chance of dying. When she finished constructing the spellform, she checked her work over thrice before nodding to herself. So satisfied, she let it take effect. The mare in front of her underwent nearly an identity transformation, the only change being the now complete horn upon her head. It lit up immediately, proving its functionality.

And then Moon Dancer flew into the air and hung there. Her racing heart skipped when she felt a warning pressure on her horn.

“You’re the worst impostor I’ve ever dealt with,” the tall mare said.

This was just like when Moon Dancer had first met Twilight but a thousand times worse. She’d told Twilight she wasn’t the adventuring type, and now she knew it for sure.

“Where is the real Twilight Sparkle?”

The other mare – Starlight, if Moon Dancer recalled correctly – had already moved to the door. The room had too many security wards for sound to pass through it, but now any avenue of escape was blocked as well.

Somehow, Moon Dancer managed to coherently answer the question posed to her. “I don’t know. She never told me where she went. I’m just filling in for her. Everypony knows that.”

By some unspoken communication, Starlight slipped out the door.

“Do you know what happened to the last pony I caught trying to harm Her Excellency?”

Moon Dancer was sure it was something suitably terrible and really didn’t need an answer. She did her best not to pay attention to what her captor said and spent her time imagining scolding Twilight for not telling her about whoever these two mares were.

Eventually, Starlight returned. She walked casually through the door with a faint glow at the tip of her horn but used a hoof to close it behind her. “Put her down,” she said. Whatever magic she’d been channeling – probably an identification spellform – faded away. “She checks out.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I found Esp. Twilight is out on business until the solstice. Oh, and apparently, she just looks like that.”

“Huh.” The tall mare set Moon Dancer down gently, her posture becoming much more formal in the process. “Sorry about that, Ma’am. I owe Her Excellency a lot.”

Although she’d appreciated none of that experience, Moon Dancer gingerly sat herself back down on her chair and said, “It’s fine. No harm done.” Or she hoped not, at least. She still felt the phantom grip of magic on her horn. “Now who are you two?”

“Tempest Shadow,” the tall mare said. “Captain of the Evening Guard.”

Starlight rolled her eyes. “I’m Starlight Glimmer.” With a wince, she lit her horn just long enough to pull a very thick folder from one of Twilight’s cabinets. She let it land onto the desk in front of Moon Dancer with a loud thump. “That’s my file.”

Skimming over it, Moon Dancer found it hard to believe the sheer number of crimes that could be brought against Starlight. It was almost laughable how long she’d be in jail if anypony ever pressed charges. If rumor were true, she might even warrant a place in the castle gardens as a statue.

A little embarrassed now, Starlight continued, “Twilight gave me a second chance, and I promised not to blow it. All of us are like that, the ‘captain’ here included.”

Tempest snorted but said nothing.

“It’s kind of like our oath of service,” Starlight continued. “We call ourselves the Evening Guard. Some of us take it more seriously than others.” She nudged Tempest with an elbow, who made no response. “Twilight usually delegates through the two of us. We handle the ‘small stuff’ for her.”

Everypony heard those air quotes. All things considered, the Archmage of Equestria, personal student of the Alicorn of the Sun, may have some somewhat understandable misconceptions about scale.

“Oh! Wait a second, I think Twilight told me about you. She, uh, didn’t use the term Evening Guard.”

“Part of why we immediately suspected you,” Tempest said. “We do not recognize Her Excellency by something so deceptive as appearance.”

Starlight added her own two bits at that. “Meaning sometimes she forgets to cancel a spell that changes her appearance. She’s forgetful like that.”

Moon Dancer buried a smile beneath a hoof while Tempest glared at Starlight. She certainly sympathized with Twilight, having made such mistakes herself, but it was still amusing. “I thought you weren’t due to return for at least another moon.”

“A fortunate turn allowed us to finish our mission early,” Tempest explained. “We returned first to report in and then seek medical treatment.”

That reminded Moon Dancer that Starlight, at least, had thaumic burns that needed care. “Of course,” she said. That kind of injury only came from pushing too much magic through one’s horn. Starlight must be exhausted. “I’ll not keep you. I’m glad you’re here, however. I could really use a reliable, specialized task force for magical disturbances.”

“And you shall have it.”

With that parting remark from Tempest, Moon Dancer waved them off to go visit the hospital. It was more than a little frustrating when, not more than a few minutes later instead of a few minutes prior, Twilight teleported straight into the room without warning.

“Ah, good, you’re here,” Twilight said. “I need you to keep Celestia away from the garden for…an hour should do it. Don’t tell her I’m here. Thanks.”

And then Twilight teleported out of the room before Moon Dancer had a chance to say a word in response.





Shining gulped. Not two steps away, his sister glared at him without saying a word. She’d hadn’t said a word since she’d teleported right in front of him out of nowhere. The only hope he had was the lack of a blazing fire indicative of her fury instead of mere anger.

“Twily, do you remember how I got my cutie mark?”

She remained in absolute silence, unmoved.

“When you were really little, our family went out on a picnic. Mom and Dad left you under my protection. Suddenly, forty moon cultists from the future leapt out of the trees.”

Rather flatly, the humor doing nothing to improve her mood, Twilight said, “That’s even less believable than the last time you tried to tell that story.”

Shining nervously ran a hoof through his mane. “I just want to protect you, Twily.” Internally, he swore he would find a way to put Flash on latrine duty for the rest of his career for only lasting a single day before getting caught.

The silence that fell stifled all who landed within its reach. Even the onlookers in the corridor watched them with a wary eye and not a word of gossip.

“You are very lucky you married Cadance.”

Yes, Shining was, but the way Twilight said that made him markedly terrified for his stallionhood’s well-being.

“Keep everyone out of the garden for the next hour. And do try to be subtle about it.”

Shining gulped, and Twilight teleported away before he could promise to do so. As far as revenge went, he’d gotten off very lightly. He hoped. Maybe the worst was yet to come. Perhaps he should practice his shield spells a little longer each day.

Regardless, Shining had to make up some story quick. Had one of the menagerie’s more skittish and evasive animals got loose and escaped into the garden? How terrible! They needed to catch it quickly, and having a bunch of uninvolved ponies milling about would just get in the way.





Observing from a cloud above, Twilight waited until the gardens had emptied to teleport back down to the ground. She doubted this would take long, which was a shame, really, because it so obligingly distracted her from the matter of Trixie. As much as she had the ability to multitask, so too did she have the ability to focus on one thing to the exclusion of all else.

Discord was a complicated mess of body parts in the vague shape of a serpent, practically the textbook definition of a transformation spell gone wrong. No two pieces came from the same species. One arm was a lion’s, the opposite, a griffon’s. One leg, a lizard’s, the other, a goat’s. Even his wings operated differently. Using them to fly must have been a nightmare. As a statue, he’d curled his long tail around a pillar from who knew where and posed dramatically as though he were about to sing.

I really need to ask Celestia how she and Luna managed to petrify Discord like this. Was he even trying to defend himself? That had troubling implications, if not, unless he’d really been just that mad or arrogant.

Nevertheless, Twilight approached Discord with her horn at the ready. She’d done this once years ago out of curiosity and made no progress, but where before she’d found resistance and rejection, she now slipped past the protections against magical intrusion with welcomed ease. The Elements kept him imprisoned and, just as importantly, isolated. However, it seemed they also recognized her as his new chief warden and allowed her to inspect the oubliette they’d constructed about him.

Twilight almost laughed at how simple it was. It really is just a petrification spell. No more special than what a cockatrice could inflict. Granted, the Elements had layered enough protections around it and supplied such sheer, raw, continuous power that Celestia felt comfortable leaving Discord out in the open as a decoration, but at its core, he might as well have lost to one of his least chimeric creations.

So how well is everything holding up…

Starting from the petrification, Twilight worked outward, examining the network of spells keeping Discord sealed away from the world. As far as she knew, everything looked in order. The flow of power maintaining them remained constant. None of the protections had degraded in construction. She didn’t know how they all worked nor even what they all were, but identifying faulty spells was an art she’d long mastered. If some had already vanished or if the energy supplying them had diminished, only Celestia or Luna would have the knowledge necessary to tell her. As she hadn’t gone to the trouble of keeping Celestia out of the loop only to bring her in now, it would have to be Luna Twilight compared notes with.

Fortunately, duplicating a spell was far easier than understanding it. After a thorough examination of the magics surrounding Discord to, with a little magical assistance, commit them to memory, Twilight cast a spell to wake her shortly. She then put herself to sleep in the hope that Luna would notice her dreaming.





The bite of the Frozen North nipped at Sweetie Belle beneath her coat. Only now noticing that her warming magic had faded away, she recast it. She could see why the archmage had chosen this place to build her secret lab. Nopony would ever find it. Who would ever want to come out here to search for it? The empty tundra spanned nearly as much space as half of Equestria!

Not far away, Trixie practiced the great spells she used as stage magic to amuse ponies. She mostly stuck with transmutations and grand illusions, although other schools of magic made their appearances from time to time. Regardless of any other deficiencies of her character, nopony could deny that she had talent.

Sweetie Belle watched on, trying to divine some understanding of the showpony. She knew Trixie had attended Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. She knew Trixie had once tried to form some manner of connection with Archmage Twilight and felt wronged over the rejection. She suspected Trixie had found few, if any, lasting friends on her travels. She knew Trixie had a reputation for explosions.

A frown tugged at the corners of Sweetie Belle’s mouth. She’d not yet seen anything blow up, but she relocated a few steps further away anyway, just in case, and constructed a small shield made of snow to settle behind.

Now, what else did she know? She knew Trixie liked to boast. She knew Trixie loved adoration. She didn’t know why, but she could guess Trixie wanted attention. Really, Trixie kind of reminded her of Rainbow Dash. If the latter hadn’t decided to settle down in Ponyville, nevermind recent developments, she’d even be an entertainer as well as part of the Wonderbolts. That at least gave Sweetie Belle somepony to ask for advice if needed.

“The least you could do is applaud.”

Sweetie Belle’s head snapped toward the voice, but she only found snow. A hoof tapped her opposite shoulder, but nopony was there. She jumped to her hooves with a muted shriek.

“Or do you, too, believe yourself above common courtesies?”

While she’d suspected, that confirmed it. Sweetie Belle stamped her hoof on the snow and said, “Trixie–” This, as it happened, proved unwise. The fresh powder of last night’s snowfall had yet to settle, and she sank in far enough to tumble over in a graceless display despite the water walking enchantment Lyra had placed on her earlier. At least she wasn’t covered in tree sap. Remembering the trick Inde – the archmage had used during the stampede, she turned her telekinesis onto herself to lift herself back onto her hooves.

Trixie appeared as a swirl of snow on the wind. In no more time than it took to blink, her form dissolved in the distance from head to hooves and rebuilt itself in reverse on the opposite side of Sweetie Belle’s little shelter. If nothing else could be said about her, she was a true master of illusions.

“Twilight Sparkle must be a worse teacher than I thought. Did you honestly expect me not to notice you? Before or after you built…” Trixie cast an askance glance down at the impromptu cover between them. “–whatever this is suppose to be.”

“Not particularly,” Sweetie Belle replied with as much dignity as she could muster after embarrassing herself. As she brushed snow off her coat, she was delighted to discover the water walking spell let it slide right off of her without any lingering meltwater from her body heat. “I just needed a buffer against the wind.” It was a lie, but the truth would only give offense.

Trixie harrumphed regardless. “Well?” Both voice and body revealed how short her patience was. “What do you want?”

“Why do you hate Archmage Twilight?”

“Lots of reasons. Why do you like her?”

“Lots of reasons,” Sweetie Belle retorted with as little bite or sarcasm as she could manage. “She helps ponies everywhere. She even saved me personally. She’s really nice. She came from nowhere with nothing but hard work. She’s the greatest spellcaster in modern history. She–”

Sweetie Belle could have gone on, but Trixie cut her off. “Enough. You know nothing about Twilight Sparkle. She helps Princess Celestia help ponies she couldn’t care less about. If she’s ever been nice in her life, I’ve never seen it. And she most certainly didn’t come from nowhere. She had the royal family’s attention long before she could read.”

However tempting it was to ask after that last point, Sweetie Belle smirked and smugly sung, “You didn’t deny that she’s the greatest spellcaster.”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie has not yet settled that question with her! Our duel in Ponyville proved nothing. When we fight with our full powers, I will prove who the more capable sorceress really is.”

Sweetie Belle made a long, “Oh,” of understanding. Rarity had told her stories of courtly drama with ponies like this. “You’re jealous.”

Hackles raised immediately. “Trixie is not jealous. She is betrayed. Passed over!”

“By who?”

“Who is none of your concern.”

Nonetheless, Sweetie Belle pressed, “Princess Celestia?”

“Of course not,” Trixie replied with no less heat than before. “What was there to betray? Before yesterday, the only words she had for me were admonishments for causing the same damage her precious Twilight Sparkle did.”

Okay, maybe this is more complicated than a little jealousy. But Sweetie Belle hadn’t mediated dozens of Apple Bloom and Scootaloo’s spats without learning a thing or two. This one might be a bit more complex, but the basic principles were the same. “I do recall Archmage Twilight mentioning her experiments tended to, well, explode when she was young. But she learned–”

“–because she had everything levitated to her on a silver platter!” A harsh sound more akin to a bray than a neigh passed Trixie’s lips. “That Twilight Sparkle lived a privileged life free of real consequences is not news. Trixie does not care.”

Sweetie Belle wondered if Honesty would even bother responding to that one if Lyra were here.

“Trixie worked for everything she has. Trixie had nothing given to her which she didn’t earn. Trixie doesn’t even know who her father is, much less have a princess to foalsit her. Then when Trixie finally proved herself through tireless dedication, she found out that she was only ever a spare. A spare! Do not try to convince Trixie the world is fair, you naive foal, especially not when it has seen fit to grant you the next silver spoon.”

To top off the rant, Trixie conjured a silver spoon and stuck it into Sweetie Belle’s mouth. Only her warming enchantment kept it from freezing to her lips or tongue.

Sweetie Belle took the spoon in her magic and carefully dispelled it once she’d, just in case, moved it a few hooves away. She knew Trixie could have layered another spell underneath the conjuration if she felt particularly spiteful and didn’t want that anywhere near her.

“So,” Sweetie Belle began, “that’s why you hate Archmage Twilight?” It was certainly a far murkier matter to sort through than the petty arguments her friends got into.

Surprisingly, Trixie said, “No,” with a far more even temperament than she had any right to after all that. She then added, “That’s why I resent her.”

“Oh…” What precisely was the difference? Sweetie Belle wasn’t entirely sure she had the life experiences necessary to understand. Not that she lacked the will to try. “Then why do you hate her?” She’d asked the question before, but maybe now that Trixie had opened up a little, she’d get a proper answer.

“’Tis a long and bitter tale. There was a time in her life when Princess Celestia actively arranged for her to make friends.” Trixie’s eyes dropped to Generosity. “For obvious reasons, now. Somehow I wound up here still.” Her frown deepened. “Regardless, all she remembers about me are my worst failures. That should suffice to inform you of the quality of our interactions.”

Despite the unflattering image that painted, it did sound similar to how the archmage had described herself as a foal. Sweetie Belle couldn’t argue that particular point, but neither did she need to. The past was the past. Trixie and the archmage were different mares now than the fillies they must have been when they’d known each other.

What would Rarity say in this situation? Sweetie Belle did her best to channel her sister in both poise and speech. “Never look to the past, darling. It’s full of embarrassments. Simply dreadful rags, those.”

Trixie slowly arched an eyebrow in silence.

A weak chuckle escaped Sweetie Belle alongside a blush nopony could miss beneath her coat. “That’s what my sister would say, I think. Maybe. Then again, she did have that thing about the derby.”

“The derby? You had those too?”

It was off topic, and Sweetie Belle suspected it was an excuse to talk about literally anything else, but Trixie had an actual glint of interest in her eye for the first time ever. Sweetie Belle would give her a reprieve for now to cool down. “Uh-huh. We had a few, let’s say, technical difficulties, but my cart won the ribbon for most traditional!”

“Most traditional? That’s not a prize we had in Canterlot. We had first place, a technical award, and–” Trixie snickered with a dark look about her. “–Pink Hearts.”

Hesitantly, Sweetie Belle asked, “Pink Hearts of Courage?”

“Let the Great and Powerful Trixie regale you with the tale of how she achieved victory through spectacular feats of magic.”

Trixie’s horn lit up, and an illusion of what Sweetie Belle really hoped wasn’t her derby cart appeared between them. The admittedly sleek vehicle looked like it could cut through air as easily as it could the competition. The front mounted cannons would fry anything in the way while what looked like an oil slick or possibly caltrops protected the rear. The spikes attached to the wheels were just overkill. And those were just the readily apparent features! Who knew what other enchantments it had on it.

“The race from Canterlot to the base of Mount Canterhorn is long and treacherous. Perils both mundane and magical await all those who dare compete. Only the most daring and bold survive. This is the tale of Trixie and the Phantom Fire.”





Luna probed every layer of Discord’s prison in exacting detail. Each and every fragment she checked against her own ancient notes. She left no spellform unexamined, no flux of power unanalyzed. Twilight had done her absolute best to recreate it in its entirety inside her dreamscape. While she was confident she’d implemented the full suite of spells within a reasonable margin of error, they worked only because she believed they would. This was her world. If she wanted two plus two to equal five, she could make that happen.

But despite Twilight’s incomplete understanding of Discord’s prison, Luna could still potentially diagnose any problems. The magics involved didn’t have to correspond to any real physical process to study them. Experiments would be worthless, sure, but they weren’t here to reverse engineer the Elements. They just wanted to check if the magic holding Discord retained the correct form.

Even so, Twilight couldn’t bury the worry making her chest feel slightly tighter than normal. What if she’d over or underestimated how much power went into each spell? What if she’d made a mistake? What if she’d made a mistake by not making a mistake? A false positive on one of Luna’s error inspections they could laugh off later over drinks, but a false negative could let disaster creep up on them unnoticed.

“Well,” Luna began as the glow of her horn faded, “if I’d ever doubted your ability to imprison me if provided with enough power, this would dash such sentiments.”

Twilight held back her sigh of relief. It was too soon for that. “It’s working properly?”

“This is cast as I recorded it.” Luna snapped her notebook shut. “Properly? Who could say? I understand it no better than I do banishment, which is to say nearly not at all. Furthermore, I would need to examine Discord myself to know if you’ve unconsciously corrected anything. I, at least, find it much more difficult to recreate an incorrect spell than a correct one.”

Indeed, that was what had Twilight worried.

“That said, you are his gaoler now, and you are not the archmage without reason. If you again find nothing amiss once you awaken, then I doubt his prison will fail while the Elements endure. Do not abuse them, and all should be well.”

This time Twilight did allow herself to breathe out and let the tension flow from her with the air. Those were the words she’d needed to hear. In all honesty, she hadn’t expected any others, but it was Discord. A little tying herself up into knots was both expected and appropriate.

Now she could get back to freaking out about Trixie.





“Your Majesty, we found a Lulamoon.”

Already? It was only the next day. Chrysalis hadn’t even left Princess Luna’s workshop yet! Her hive worked fast, naturally. They had the numbers and networking necessary for such distributed tasks. But this was too easy. She reached out over the hive mind back to the changeling who, in eagerness, had leapt through protocol to inform her directly. “How sure are you it’s not a trap?”

Chrysalis first received a vague feeling of uncertainty in answer before a verbal reply. “There’s a Trixie Lulamoon scheduled to perform a magic act at the Summer Sun Celebration in Ponyville.”

Coincidence was an old enemy Chrysalis watched with a wary eye and never let out of sight. “Continue your investigations with caution. If this Trixie is the real thing” – as close as one could get to it in Princess Luna’s absence – “she’ll be able to give me a good fight.” Sensing that the warning had properly sunk in, she continued, “Inform me directly the moment you find anything. And warn the archmage.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

Another mental voice chimed in a few moments later once her orders had spread. “Trixie and the archmage formally dueled publicly two days ago during a performance. They seem to have a history together. The archmage won and departed amicably.”

A third changeling, the last one in Ponyville, added, “Trixie spent most of the next day at the Prancing Pony performing tricks for drink.” Beneath the words in the hive mind was the understanding that she’d spent most of said day watching those tricks.

After acknowledging the information, the connections faded from Chrysalis’s conscious awareness back into the faint buzz of the hive mind. The relative silence left her free to ponder this development. At a glance, three primary possibilities came to mind.

First, somepony could have thought Lulamoon made for a good name – or stage name, perhaps. It wasn’t fully in keeping with current pony naming tradition, but nopony who heard it would pay it a second glance, the archmage included, it seemed. Only Princess Celestia and perhaps a few very niche scholars would recognize its meaning.

Second, the pretender was there for her princess’s return. Ponyville was close to the old capital of Everfree. If the nightmare intended to head straight for Canterlot, she would fly right over the village.

Third, this Lulamoon was there for the archmage. With the Night Guardian Staff in her possession, she might actually stand a chance. Chrysalis highly doubted Archmage Twilight would let herself be assassinated, abducted, or otherwise inconvenienced, but the possibility existed.

Of the three, Chrysalis believed the second most likely. She gave no credence to coincidence, especially when two of the principle actors had an apparent history of conflict. Moreover, as far as anyone should know, the archmage was out on another one of her long-term missions, popping about Equestria to wherever duty called. Even Chrysalis didn’t know precisely what her plans involved. Credible reports had already placed her in Manehattan, Haywaii, Ponyville, Canterlot, and the Peaks of Peril of all places. The hive had also mentioned her trip to Las Pegasus to meet with Sunset Shimmer, and who knew how many other rumors of her appearances were true. Lying in wait for her in Ponyville made little sense. When she next appeared there officially, if at all, it would be after the nightmare’s return and defeat.

“Your Majesty, we found the Lulamoon’s wagon. It’s empty, and there are no wards, but there’s a lot of magic inside it.”

Chrysalis commanded it to be left alone. “Let’s leave this to the archmage’s discretion.”

A more hesitant voice said, “We haven’t been able to find her. No one we’ve spoken to has seen her since she left the Prancing Pony last night.”

“And Trixie?”

The uneasy silence of her three changelings in the village was answer enough. Chrysalis uttered a few choice words no pony could hope to replicate. She tossed aside the magical artifact she’d been playing with and made for the exit. “Stay alert. I’ll arrive soon to see to this myself.”





A somewhat bemused Amethyst Star gathered a copy of all the records for the upcoming festival and assembled them into the usual file for Index’s use. When she returned with them, she asked, “So what made you lose the dossier in less than an hour?”

Index, who had no idea what Amethyst Star was talking about, offered a blank look in return. Unless she’d orchestrated some complicated scheme that required her to modify her own memory, she’d not been in Ponyville at all until a few minutes ago. But then who would go to the trouble of impersonating a bureaucrat to acquire some basically worthless information about a relatively unimportant farming village? One of the local changelings, perhaps? Why? Then again, it could have been Celestia filling in for her.

Not seeing any good reason to expose the deception, Index shrugged. “Pinkie Pie and a Crusader were in the same room.”

Amethyst Star made a long, “Ah,” before wishing Index a good day.

Once outside, Twilight dropped all pretenses of remaining in character. The five minutes she’d managed to hold it in place were all she could muster right now. Really, what did it even matter? She was done with Ponyville. She’d found a bearer for each Element of Harmony, and she’d screwed up with each of them. They all knew who she was. The only purpose her disguise served anymore was to give her a little anonymity.

So, an impostor, is it? Twilight was looking for distractions, she knew, but a distraction had found her. It would be downright rude not to follow up on it.

“There you are.”

Twilight turned toward the voice and found…herself? It was almost like looking in a mirror. All of the physical details were a perfect match right down to the cut and color of her mane, but the mare held herself differently. A certain magnetic presence hung about her, an air of self-confidence bordering on supercilious, perhaps, something Twilight didn’t ordinarily concern herself enough with other ponies to project. The tiny corner of her mind concerned with physical beauty was a little irritated that this other mare pulled off her own look far better than she did.

From the other mare’s subspace storage appeared an obsidian crown, simple and unadorned but no less a symbol of power for the lack of ornamentation.

Twilight smiled and accepted Luna’s crown into her own magic with her thanks for its safe return. She took a brief moment to examine it in detail. Aside from a little wear and tear over the centuries, it perfectly matched what Luna wore in the Dream Realm. She doubted Sunset would have tried to pass a fake off to her, but as the old adage went, she would trust, but verify.

Glad to have something going right, Twilight tucked Luna’s crown away into her own bag of holding and offered, “Lunch? On the crown?”

Sunset rolled her eyes at the poor attempt at humor but accepted nonetheless. As there wasn’t anything in the way of fine dining in Ponyville and neither felt like a long trip just to eat, they settled on Café Hay and simply ignored the crowd of gawkers and gossipers that swelled around them. Despite how appropriate Sunset’s choice of disguise was, for they were naught but a bureaucrat and her boss meeting over lunch, it lacked subtlety. Still, it was nothing a few privacy spells couldn’t fix once they found their seats.

“So how did the Gladmane heist go?” Twilight asked.

A smirk on her face, Sunset let out an amused, triumphant snort. “The fool was only half as clever as he thought he was. I cleaned him out and managed to turn all of his employees against him in a single night.”

Twilight knew how that usually went. “Monologue?”

“Yep. I weaved a little magic to broadcast it across the resort. He never suspected a thing. During the chaos, I made off with everything.”

“Impressive.” It actually sounded rather exciting. It reminded her of her early years as the archmage when her wits mattered more than her power and experience. “Will anypony even believe he was robbed?”

“Unfortunately,” Sunset muttered. “If I’d had more time, I would have cooked the books. He kept detailed records, and after last night, the police would have believed anything I put in them. But opportunity presented itself…” She shrugged and sipped from her drink. “Still, I can’t wait to read about the fallout.”

“It’s always a pleasure trying to puzzle out your work.”

They were interrupted for a brief moment when their lunch arrived. Twilight had ordered a simple daffodil sandwich while Sunset had favored a large bowl of potato soup. Soon enough, they were alone once more – relatively speaking, of course.

“So how’s the love and friendship business going?” Sunset asked.

Although Twilight had expected the question, she’d vainly hoped to avoid it. She fought back an exasperated sigh and replied, “Not well. I’m hoping I can talk Luna into reconciling with Celestia, but that hasn’t gone well either.”

“Could you just have Sunbutt take you to the moon to reinforce her seal?”

It was a good idea, Twilight admitted, one she hadn’t thought of, but it wouldn’t work. “No. I wish I’d thought of it first, but no. I promised I wouldn’t do that to her.”

Sunset clicked her tongue and muttered something Twilight couldn’t hear.

“Besides,” Twilight continued, unfazed, “I just got back from checking on Discord’s seal. The Elements were ancient and mysterious even in the Classical Era, and it shows. I think the Elements will allow me to make manual modifications to their work. I’ll grant you that. But Luna’s prison isn’t weakening. It’s designed to fail. I’d need to modify it without disrupting it to keep her contained. At that point, I might as well take a hammer to a black box and hope it resets.”

“Fair point,” Sunset admitted. She wore a thoughtful look for a few spoonfuls of soup before she spoke again. “Could we apply Singer’s layered spell method to reapply the banishment without releasing Luna?”

Twilight shook her head. “Two problems. First, Celestia would have to cast it. The Elements provide an absurd amount of power to maintain these seals, and they actively reject her. Second” – the reason why she’d never bothered to consider it herself – “the magic would solidify in the transition from the doubled density.” And there was, of course, the deal she’d made with Luna as well.

The pair ate in silence after that for some time, each lost in their own thoughts.

Halfway to her mouth, Twilight paused and then lowered her sandwich. “Hey. Hypothetical question. What would it take to get you to stab Celestia in the back?”

Sunset arched an eyebrow.

“I’m not jumping ship. Just… I don’t want to say until you answer the question.” 

Sunset eyed Twilight for a few moments before breaking the tension with a slurp of soup. “Well,” she began, “we could spend five minutes alone in a room together.”

Despite the poor taste, Twilight laughed. “Come on. Seriously. It’s important.”

“I don’t know,” Sunset replied with a little extra force. “Context matters with this sort of thing. Why don’t you tell me what you’re really asking.”

Twilight, rather than answer, shoved her sandwich into her mouth. She really didn’t want to let anypony know how badly she’d failed with the Elements.

“There you are.”

Ah, déjà vu.

A unicorn mare who had a very official look about her, from her orderly mane to her time-themed cutie mark, approached the table. She glanced first at Sunset, then Twilight, and finally asked, “Who betrayed the hive?”

Twilight cast a little privacy spell that Sunset could easily – but obviously – circumvent to keep her answer secret. “Thorax.” As she dispelled that last, flimsy layer of security, she invited the likely changeling to sit while Chrysalis conducted her business.

“‘It’s a relief to see you well,’” Chrysalis said through her changeling now that Twilight had confirmed her identity. “‘We have a situation here.’”

I leave for one day. “What is it?”

The changeling’s eyes flicked toward the other pony at the table.

“Oh! This is Sunset Shimmer. She knows about the situation with Nightmare Moon.” Twilight put the slightest emphasis on the name. Hopefully, Sunset picked up on the fact that Chrysalis didn’t know about Luna’s dreamwalking yet. “Sunset, this is…complicated. And with your future plans, you should probably know.” Twilight politely looked to the changeling for approval.

“‘Queen Chrysalis,’” the changeling said. She added, “In person.”

That took Twilight aback. Whatever trouble had arrived in Ponyville was serious if Chrysalis had come herself.

“I rule the changeling hive in Equestria.”

“Changelings?” Sunset echoed. “No offense, but the bug ponies who eat love? You’re real?”

Twilight stepped in to offer a little elucidation. “They came to Equestria a decade ago, and we worked out a residency agreement with them a few years later. If you truly intend to take the Crystal Empire” – Chrysalis directed a questioning look her way but said nothing – “you two will want to take tea sometime.”

“Huh. Well, this is an unexpected pleasure, Your…Majesty?”

Nodding, Chrysalis said, “Likewise. My mother spoke of the Crystal Heart with great reverence.”

It took a few moments before understanding – whatever the Crystal Heart was – dawned on Sunset’s face. “You can feed off the energy it emits?”

“It was no changeling’s preferred meal, but when in need, it was there. We will speak more later, I’m sure. For now” – Chrysalis turned back to Twilight – “what do you know of the Lulamoons?”

Twilight had a feeling fate had just played a cruel prank on her. “Do you mean Trixie’s family?” Ponies didn’t usually pass names down, but it happened. Her own mother’s family held the tradition.

But Chrysalis replied, “No, not at all. Lulamoon is a title. It literally means ‘famous moon warrior’.”

Face met hoof as Twilight groaned. “I could have used that information earlier.”

Sunset, already primed for the conclusion, put the pieces together first. “That’s why you were asking!” she cried incredulously. “What the hay! Don’t tell me you gave her Loyalty.”

An exasperated sigh escaped Twilight as she buried her head in her hooves. “She has Laughter. I didn’t know her loyalties until this morning.”

“Ah. The Elements of Harmony?” Chrysalis asked. After Twilight nodded, she said, “Well, I hope you have another plan. My hive has no idea where she is, and if she’s smart, she’ll not show herself in civilization until after the solstice.”

Twilight knew what Chrysalis was implicitly suggesting as a solution. She needed to put an end to that line of thought. “I know where she is, but we can’t kill her. The Elements are in too questionable a state to risk such a shock to their system. Discord would be worse than Nightmare Moon by far.” Sighing, she sat back upright. “But yes, I have other plans in the works. I may be able to win over Trixie. If not, so be it. If all else fails and Nightmare Moon can’t be reasoned with, I’ll cheat and banish her again.”

“Cheat how?” Sunset asked, a question Chrysalis no doubt shared.

“That,” Twilight began, “is my secret.” She blew a raspberry at the other two. Foalish? Yes. But it made her feel a little lighter. It also probably did more than anything else she could have said to get them to believe she actually had a secret magic of last resort capable of striking down gods which she jealously guarded.

Ignoring how put out Sunset looked, Chrysalis said, “Fair enough. Princess Celestia asked me to locate the missing Night Guardian Staff. Should I assume Trixie has it?”

Twilight opened her mouth to ask what on Equus the Night Guardian Staff was, but a recent memory surfaced of Trixie wielding a staff with a night motif on stage. She’d been particularly wary of it. The thing had all but screamed, “I’m a major magical artifact!” yet she’d had no idea what it did. There were usually clues in design, in idle function, or in rumor by which she could prepare a defense. But the staff? A silent mystery.

“Probably,” Twilight finally replied. “And I don’t think I’ll win any points with her by taking it. What does it do?”

“It’s a spellcasting assistant.”

Sunset whistled appreciatively, but Twilight felt her lips pull back as she sucked in a hiss of air. A shudder ran through her whole body. The last two ponies with spellcasting assistants she’d fought against had nearly killed her. She’d been younger then, true, but they also hadn’t possessed even half of Trixie’s own skill. “It’s not corruptive, is it?” Both the Alicorn Amulet and the Inspiration Manifestation had been.

“No,” came Chrysalis’s merciful reply. “Princess Luna made regular use of it for centuries without ill effect.”

“Good. You can tell Princess Celestia you found it and left it in my care, then.”

Chrysalis’s gaze drifted toward Sunset. “And the crown?”

“Maybe just keep quiet on that one.” A quick glance at Sunset got a nod in return.

“Very well. I’ll take my leave of you, then. Don’t let the Lulamoon integrate into your hive.”

After Chrysalis had left through a portal of green flame, easily explained by the ‘archmage’s’ presence, Twilight said, “Changeling expression. More or less means watch your back.”

Sunset quite obviously didn’t care.

“So…yeah.” Twilight twiddled the remains of her sandwich between her hooves. “Trixie is basically you, but with Luna.”

“I see.” Sunset’s dour frown abated somewhat. “What drove her away, then?”

With too little to go on, Twilight said, “I have no idea. Luna mentioned tripping over the ‘chief failing of her character’, I think it was. Pride, maybe?” Her current impression of Trixie largely came from their duel, and Trixie hadn’t taken her loss well. “I still don’t know what it was for you, either. Celestia was pretty vague about it.”

“As I said before, my relationship with her is none of your business.”

Twilight held up her hooves in silent surrender. She didn’t think that was entirely true, but pushing would do no good.

Glare relenting, Sunset said, “My advice? Don’t try to insert yourself between Trixie and Luna. Trying to push them apart won’t help whatever relationship they have, but it’ll certainly make them close ranks.”

“That’s not as helpful as I was hoping for.”

“Hey, you can’t expect me to change your life every time we meet, Sparkles.”

Sparkles? Twilight shrugged and went with it. It was a better nickname than Sunbutt, at least.
> Chapter Sixteen - Falling Apart
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Curious eyes scanned formulas far beyond their understanding. “What do these do?”

“Promise to keep this secret?” As if that would get any answer but an eager nod. “What’s to stop me from taking a pegasus form and channeling magic through my wings to fly?”

“Nothing, really. I’ve seen you do it.”

While true, that deserved a roll of the eyes. “Okay, yes, but that was much more difficult for me than it is for pegasi. The point I was trying to get at is magical typing. Unicorns have unicorn magic. Pegasi have pegasus magic. Dragons have draconic magic. So on and so forth. Each responds differently when set to a purpose, some more readily than others. Pegasus magic, for instance, is well-attuned for flight. Unicorn magic, unhelpful thing that it is, can emulate pegasus flight if you do all the work yourself. Earth pony magic would actively resist being so shaped.”

A moment passed in silence for dramatic effect.

“But what if there was a way to untype the magic you generate?”





When Twilight returned to her lab, she found Spike, Pinkie Pie, the lovers, and Flash all sitting around one of her workbenches contentedly playing cards. Poker, it looked like. The three bearers among them got along just fine, which came as no great shock. Likewise Trixie’s absence didn’t surprise her given what she knew now. Still, a bit of reclusiveness was a far better start than knives in the dark. Last night would have given Trixie all the opportunity she’d have needed if that were the route she intended to take.

Sweetie Belle’s absence, however, was more keenly felt. Even if she’d decided to occupy herself with her homework, Twilight had the impression that she’d rather do it with company than in solitude. Then again, they’d only known each other for a couple weeks. Perhaps she liked peace and quiet when she needed to think.

Through sheer force of will, Twilight sat down at the table and asked to be dealt into the game despite all of the science surrounding her. Numerous beloved projects beckoned to her with their siren’s song. She could just pick them up and continue wherever she’d left off. It would be so easy. It would be so fun.

The sacrifices she made for Celestia…

“So did you get what I asked for?”

Twilight, bemused, looked up from her cards. Spike asked for something? Thinking about it, she did vaguely recall making a detour on her way to Canterlot. Reaching into her subspace storage, she withdrew one of her lab flasks. That didn’t belong in there, so it must be what she was looking for. What was in this again?

Seeing chips passing begrudgingly from everypony but Pinkie Pie to a very smug looking Spike jogged Twilight’s memory.

“Oh, ha ha. Very amusing.” Twilight labeled and set the flask aside elsewhere in the lab. She could probably find an actual use for some water from the Stream of Silence some other time.

“I don’t – the mountain – the flask – the distance–” Lost for words, Bon Bon settled on, “How?”

Twilight let out a small huff. Distance and elevation didn’t really mean much to her, only headings. And how much attention did it really take to fill a flask from a stream? “I had more important things on my mind at the time.”

“Something about screwing up something or other?” Spike scratched a claw along a cheek as he tried to recall whatever he’d overheard of Twilight’s freak out earlier today.

Pinkie Pie did her usual thing and asked how they could help. “It’s what friends are for,” she added when Twilight first tried to put her off.

“While true,” Twilight allowed, “it’s best I keep it to myself.” She didn’t want to self-sabotage by setting everyone up to distrust Trixie. Really, Twilight had no idea what to do about her. Confronting her without a plan wouldn’t go over well, so what option was there but to leave her be for now? But on the subject of Trixie, Twilight asked, “Where are our missing members, by the way?”

“Trixie went upstairs to practice her act,” Lyra replied, meaning she’d left the lab for more open pastures above ground. “I helped Sweetie Belle head up a little later to watch.”

This first test of trust had come much swifter than Twilight had expected. If Trixie was going to do anything, she’d have done it last night. She repeated that to herself, determined not to leap to an unnecessary rescue and screw up even more than she already had.

“She said she’d ‘flame’ if she needs to be picked up.”

At least Sweetie Belle had thought through whatever she was doing enough to have a way back to shelter if Trixie abandoned her. Twilight highly doubted she’d actually gone to watch Trixie practice. If somepony had displayed such open hostility to her own beloved mentor, Twilight knew she would have leapt to Celestia’s defense at that age even if she knew it would cause more problems.

Maybe I should at least check up on – no, this is going to happen eventually. I just have to trust Sweetie Belle not to push too far.

That was easier said than done. A dozen divination spells just to peek in on them leapt to mind. It would be so easy. If she took her time, Trixie might not even notice. And really, Sweetie Belle was her responsibility. Everyone here was her responsibility on some level, of course, but Sweetie Belle was especially so as both her student and a minor under her care.

If something bad was going to happen, surely Pinkie Pie would know before it occurred.

Twilight just needed to relax. She even had a distraction actively at work in front of her. Poker wasn’t her game, but she was doing well enough, relatively speaking. She couldn’t tell if Pinkie Pie was cheating or not. Pinkie Pie wasn’t winning, but she assumed so regardless. That mare had different priorities which might or might not include victory. It made playing against her extremely frustrating. No one doubted Lyra’s guilt, however. Every verbal slip made, Honesty picked up on.

But despite these disadvantages, both Spike and Flash had massive piles of chips in front of them. Twilight had some awareness that Spike, at least, sometimes played cards with Shining when he was off duty. All of the Royal Guard likely participated when they had the chance. It was probably why, she later learned, the two had suggested the game to begin with.

The remainder of the afternoon slowly passed into evening, and soon it came time to prepare dinner. Pinkie Pie happily volunteered both herself and Twilight for the task.

“Wait, what?” Twilight had little time to protest before Pinkie Pie all but abducted her. She hadn’t been winning or even close to it, but that wasn’t the point. “Pinkie, I’ve never cooked before in my life!” If anypony said otherwise, they were lying. And potions didn’t count. “I have literally paid you to do this for me.”

Heedless to all warnings, Pinkie Pie said, “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you how!”

The kitchen was largely built out of repurposed lab equipment. Some personal implements Pinkie Pie had brought herself, although where they’d been up until now remained a matter of intense scholarly debate. To talk her out of making rock soup – a suggestion she would no doubt follow through on if not appeased – Twilight acquiesced to taking an active role in the production of a far more palatable vegetable stew. She had no idea what she was doing or why, merely blindly following instructions, but that didn’t seem to matter.

Soon enough, they finally set the stew to simmer for the next hour. Pinkie Pie, lacking most of the base ingredients involved in baking, settled on throwing together a fruit salad for a side dish. That was a simple enough task for Twilight to replicate, even if she made them ‘too orderly’.

“Hmm…”

Looking up from her work, Twilight found Pinkie Pie leaning into the counter and staring at her. She cocked her head to the side. “What?”

“You still have three and a half marshmallows of worry.”

Twilight blinked. “What?”

“Do you have cupcake in your ear again?”

Twilight pressed her ears flat against her head. “I do not. Now what are you on about?” With Pinkie Pie visibly winding up for a long, rambling explanation, she quickly added, “I don’t need the whole story.”

“Fine.” A bit of playfully exaggerated petulance made its way into that response, but it vanished immediately after. “In my continuing crusade to bring smiles to everypony everywhere, one mare continues to frown. A deep-seated fear has its icy grip upon her heart. She worries, for her student has run off into the cold, dark night with a suspicious sorceress from Silver Shoals.”

Eyebrows raised, Twilight asked, “Trixie is from Silver Shoals?” As far as she knew, that was a retirement community.

“Don’t try to distract me with your silver tongue!” Pinkie Pie leaned further forward into Twilight’s personal space and, with one eye closed, said, “I’ve got my eye on you.”

“Right…” Twilight coaxed Pinkie Pie back to her own side of the counter with a light press of magic. “What exactly do you think I’m worried about?”

“Well, you’re scared-worried, not protective-worried or jealous-worried, so you must think Trixie is dangerous dangerous, not just negligent or out to steal your protégé, but not a meanie pants since you’re not spying on her or fighting her.”

Faced with that particular blend of logic, Twilight found herself reluctantly following along and ultimately accepting that Pinkie Pie knew what she was on about. She always did in her own special way. With a sigh, Twilight decided to tell just enough of the truth to give her some context.

“Trixie is powerful, has some grudge against me, lacks any real ties to this group, and Sweetie Belle is a vulnerability I’m not used to managing with a knack for getting into trouble.”

“Oh, all the time!”

Twilight quirked an eyebrow. There were less reassuring words, she supposed.

Pinkie Pie, to her mild credit, seemed to realize this a few moments later. “But I’m sure this time will be different!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really!” Pinkie Pie insisted. “All Trixie needs is a warm welcome party from all her new friends! And that includes you.”

Somehow Twilight doubted that would fix everything or even anything. Not that she had any better ideas at the moment or any reason to stand in Pinkie Pie’s way. She’d not comment beyond a halfhearted attempt at a smile. In hindsight, this whole conversation, this attempt to reassure her, must have been why Pinkie Pie had conscripted her into kitchen duty. It hadn’t exactly worked, but it was a nice gesture.

“I should probably go bring Sweetie Belle back inside.” To forestall any objections, Twilight added, “Supper will be done soon, right?”

“Yep!”

As Twilight pushed power into her horn, she added, “Thanks for trying, Pinkie,” and then teleported away.





So absorbed in recounting the final moments of her glorious victory over the dreaded ursa major, Trixie almost failed to notice the unwelcome magic scanning the surrounding tundra. She paused only a moment in her story, recovering quickly, and outright ignored the expansion to her otherwise enthralled audience of one. The lingering presence of her magic, dancing about in epic illusions to bring the tale to life, prevented Sweetie Belle, clearly untrained in such matters, from noticing when her mentor blinked into place only a short few steps behind her.

At last, they came to the moment of truth. The ursa major thought it had Trixie right where it wanted her, but in truth, it had only sealed its doom. When it advanced for the killing blow, it realized too late that she’d used her illusions to lure it into a trap. It’s paw found no purchase where it’d thought there to be ground. With a defiant roar and one last vain attempt to snare its prey, it tumbled off the cliffside. Flailing, slashing, grasping at nothing, it plummeted down toward the ground ever faster. A great crashing and a thundering boom echoed throughout the mountains seconds later.

Thus was it done. The beast had been slain.

Sweetie Belle applauded and cheered as Trixie took a bow.

In the background, Twilight Sparkle wrote in the air, ‘It didn’t die.’

That brought Trixie up short. Surely not. Even a pegasus would have trouble surviving an impact of such magnitude.

‘Celestia dealt with it. They’re easier to dump in the middle of nowhere than to put down.’

Well, so long as somepony had resolved the situation in the end, Trixie supposed it didn’t really matter who. She’d still saved the village and outwitted the beast. The story just had a little epilogue now which she’d leave out.

“That was amazing!” Sweetie Belle wore such a wide, endearing smile that Trixie had a hard time being properly dismissive of her. “You must be the best illusionist in the world.”

Trixie smirked and somehow resisted glancing up at Twilight Sparkle’s reaction. That would give the game away too early. “It’s good you properly recognize the Great and Powerful Trixie’s amazing abilities. Please go on.”

Unfortunately, such was not to be. Twilight Sparkle spoke, drawing a startled reaction from her student. “Alas, I am betrayed.” She scooped Sweetie Belle up into a light hug and kept her within arm’s reach once finished. “But you may be right. My specialty is magical theory, not illusions.”

Because of course Twilight Sparkle assumes she’s automatically the runner up.

With a now nervous smile, Sweetie Belle said, “Trixie was just telling me about her adventures.”

“Yes, I saw. Very impressive, Trixie. If I were in the show business myself, I’d hire you on the spot.”

“She also told me about the Canterlot Derby.”

Twilight Sparkle had a blank look on her face for a few moments before recognition finally surfaced. “Oh, yes. Celestia had me organize the safety measures a few years ago when she went to Saddle Arabia. It’s a complicated song and dance amongst society. That’s what always happens when a bunch of nobles get together, of course, but put their foals into direct competition like that, and it becomes more about who has more wealth to throw at their cart and can afford the best engineers and sorceresses. Once in a while, some nopony wins, but–”

Trixie very loudly cleared her throat.

“Hmm? Oh. Uh… Point proven?”

“No offense,” Sweetie Belle began, “but I liked Trixie’s version of it better.”

Twilight Sparkle chuckled. “Yeah, I’d imagine so.”

“She also told me why she doesn’t like you.”

For a time, the only sound was the wind and the skittering of loose snow upon it. It took Trixie a few moments before she realized that the conversation hadn’t ground to a halt. Stars forbid Twilight Sparkle feel a little awkward or repentant. No, instead, it’d merely changed mediums.

“Well, not everything,” Sweetie Belle said in response to whatever Generosity had picked up from Twilight Sparkle. “But enough.”

There was another moment of silence.

“No, really. She–” Sweetie Belle froze. “She’s what! But–” The filly spun from Twilight Sparkle to Trixie, stared fearfully for a moment, and then took a few wary steps back into the shelter of her teacher’s legs. A little coaxing brought her back out a short while later. “Who is Sun–”

A moment passed.

“Oh. That’s…”

Trixie was beyond tired of being left out of the conversation. “Excuse you, but there is a third pony present.”

“Right. Sorry.” That might very well be the first apology Trixie had ever heard pass from Twilight Sparkle’s lips.

Regardless, it was not enough, not nearly. Trixie couldn’t let this blatant attempt at taking a fan from her pass unchallenged. “What lies did you tell her about me to scare her away?”

Twilight Sparkle facehoofed. “None. That doesn’t even make any sense. You and Sweetie Belle both have an Element. I need you two to be friends.”

“So you claim, but for all the proof you’ve given me–”

“Hey!”

Both mares looked down at Sweetie Belle.

“Trixie, I’m sorry for how I reacted. I was, um…surprised to hear–” A raspberry glow held Sweetie Belle’s mouth closed so only incomprehensible mumbles could escape her.

“This is maybe not the best time for that, Sweetie Belle.”

When the glow of Twilight Sparkle’s magic faded, Sweetie Belle said, “When I let Apple Bloom and Scootaloo not talk to each other, their grievances became so much worse than they needed to be.”

“We can discuss this later in private,” Twilight Sparkle said with a hint of command behind her voice.

“Oh, I think not.” Trixie refused to allow Twilight Sparkle to slink away into her lab to find some more palatable lie to share. “Tell me what you told her, or I’ll abandon this train wreck of a fellowship here and now.” That was, perhaps, a dangerous threat to make, but Trixie didn’t care anymore.

Twilight Sparkle closed her eyes and then indulged in some strange breathing exercise. Once finished, she calmly asked, “And why would you do that with so much at stake?”

“Perhaps I’d rather watch the world freeze than suffer you.”

The wind howled in the silence that fell.

“Sweetie Belle,” Twilight Sparkle began with far too much seriousness in her voice, “I need you to get everyone into the test chamber. You’ll be safe there.”

“Your command?” Niian asked.

Sweetie Belle’s confusion melted away in an instant. “What? No, I can–”

“You’re in the way.” A tiny flux of Twilight Sparkle’s magic sent Sweetie Belle back underground into the lab as she said the words.

“So that’s how it is, is it? The great Twilight Sparkle isn’t getting her way, so she resorts to force to impose her will upon everypony around her.”

Twilight Sparkle heaved a long sigh. “Her heart is in the right place, but I doubt Sweetie Belle has ever encountered somepony with issues as deeply rooted as yours.”

Trixie bristled, but her greatest rival ignored the reaction and continued on.

“I don’t want to have this conversation yet, because I have no idea what to say. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m so far out of my depth here, I’m drowning. Can we please just head inside and put this off for another day? I really don’t–”

“Speak plainly!” Trixie had no idea what Twilight Sparkle was babbling about, nor did she care. 

“Fine. Luna told me you were her student.”

All manner of foul emotions surged through Trixie.

“That’s all I told Sweetie Belle.”

Anger. Jealousy. Fear. Resentment. Indignation.

“She won’t tell anyone.”

But all of them centered around just one.

“I personally don’t care.”

Betrayal.

“I’ll happily help put Luna back on her throne.”

It always came back to this.

“I just want her to leave Celestia alone.”

She was never good enough for anypony.

“That’s all I want.”

Not her mother.

“All the Elements will do is make her let go of her grudge.”

Not Twilight Sparkle.

“But I need you to make them work.”

Not Princess Celestia.

“Please. It’s what’s best for everypony.”

Not even Luna.

“Her. Celestia. Equestria.”

She would prove them all wrong.

“Enough!” Trixie snapped Niian from her neck. “Staff mode.”

“Trixie, please–”

Trixie had no more patience for entreaties. “You and me,” she said. “A magic duel.” Niian fell into her waiting arm, once more as its name suggested and ready for battle. “Here and now with our full powers.”

By the set of her jaw, Twilight Sparkle grit her teeth at the challenge. “Why? Luna wouldn’t want–”

“I don’t care what she wants!” Trixie snapped. She pointed Niian straight at Twilight Sparkle. “Fight me, or I’ll beat you down until you finally retaliate.”

That did the trick.

“Fine. Wait here for my return. I need to collect a few things to give you the fight you want.”





At the Old Castle, Twilight stood before the Element of Magic with a heavy frown. She didn’t see a way forward that didn’t involve her overwhelming victory over Trixie. If she held back, she’d only further anger Trixie. If she made it a close match, she’d be doing this again tomorrow. But if she crushed Trixie’s pride, what would that get her? Hard-earned respect? Broken acceptance? More bitterness and spite? A Luna to her Celestia?

“I know you’re not going to approve,” Twilight said to Magic, “but I don’t know what else to do.”

Magic, of course, offered no alternatives.

“Without you, Trixie might even be able to beat me. The Night Guardian Staff is no joke. I’m sure you remember it. Luna used to keep it at her side.”

She might have just imagined it, but a foreign feeling of recognition and reluctant acceptance flashed through Twilight.

“Well that was…unexpected.” In hindsight, perhaps it shouldn’t have been. Celestia had said that the Element’s ‘didn’t like her’ and that they ‘had a mind of their own’. “If my mind isn’t just playing tricks on me, thank you for understanding. I promise I won’t do any lasting damage to Laughter’s bearer.”

Twilight placed Magic upon her brow. Immediately, it’s strength flowed into her to mesh with her own. The rush of power was as electrifying as it had been the last time she’d worn Magic. Why had she ever continued to make the sacrifice to part with her Element when she had a perfectly good substitute now? Duty? Responsibility? Obligation? Who cared for such trivial things?

Through Magic, Twilight summoned Laughter from wherever Trixie had left it and locked it away from her. It would keep the Old Castle safe from the Everfree Forest in Magic’s place.

With that done, Twilight polymorphed into the alicorn form she’d been wearing in her dreams. She gave her wings an experimental flap. As expected, without pegasus magic coursing through them, they fell far short of providing the lift necessary for true flight, but they would suffice for combat with a few additional spells. They were certainly the best choice of the options available to her. Regular pegasus wings, were she a world-class flier, would arguably give her slightly more maneuverability, but she’d grown used to the oversized ones characteristic of the alicorn species.

One all too fleeting minute was all the time Twilight budgeted to accustom herself to her wings in the real world. Lyra would be able to hold Trixie off long enough in the off chance she tried anything, Twilight was sure, but she’d rather not keep Trixie waiting longer than necessary.

“All right, partner. Next stop, Canterlot.”

Twilight quickly built up the power necessary for the long, single jump all the way home.





If anypony ever thought Twilight had let those amongst her Evening Guard off lightly with a slap on the fetlock and a job opportunity, Moon Dancer would be the first to stand in their defense after the report she’d just heard. The Staff of Sacanas, so named for its creator long before Discord, was a vile thing. It no doubt once had legitimate medical uses millennia ago, or something to that effect, but now all it did was interfere with a pony’s magical channeling to drain power for its wielder’s own use. Starlight had at least another week to look forward to in the hospital to recover from the thaumic burns she’d given herself overcoming its effects.

“Tempest, I’ll be glad to hear the rest of your report in a bit, but I want to lock this thing away in the vault before some charming but naive rogue or treacherous vizier steals it.” Maybe she’d read too many novels, but Moon Dancer didn’t want to take any chances with something this dangerous.

The walk from the archmage’s office to the vault was blessedly short and likely by design. The usual guards stood at its doors and saluted upon their approach. Tempest got one or two dirty looks, but nopony moved to stop them from entering – or from attempting to enter, if they were impostors, which they were not.

Moon Dancer inserted her horn into the lock and applied the necessary magic to open the vault. Gears turned as counterweights fell and pulleys spun. The enchantments sealing passage glowed in bright acceptance, and the doors parted with a heavy grinding of stone against stone just long enough for Moon Dancer and Tempest to pass through.

“Ow! Not that tight.”

Moon Dancer hadn’t expected to find anypony else in here, much less Twilight, but coincidence was, by nature, a strange thing. Without waiting, Tempest shot off toward the voice to pay homage to the not quite princess she’d sworn herself to.

A barely comprehensible voice, like one trying to speak through closed teeth, said, “This isn’t exactly easy, Twily.”

And Captain Armor as well. What are they doing here?

“Your Excellency, do you require assistance?”

“Oh, Tempest, perfect timing. His Highness here doesn’t remember how to put on armor now that he has ponies to do that for him.”

Moon Dancer arched her eyebrows as she approached the room containing those three. What she saw inside, however, gave her pause.

As though a painting had leapt from its canvas, both winged and crowned, a warrior goddess on the eve of battle stood flanked by her two attendants. Idle power radiated from her without care or concern as they labored to don her enchanted armor. The mortal prince had his teeth on a strap beneath her wing while the hardened soldier deftly moved to secure its opposite. Half worn, the remainder of the armor sat waiting upon its stand.

Moon Dancer shook off the feeling of intruding upon history. She entered the room but kept her distance and did her best to stay out of the way. “Twilight? What’s going on?”

“Nothing much. Trixie picked a fight with me, so I’m going to teach her why I’m listed beside Celestia on the Alicorn Accords.”

Oh, this couldn’t end well for anypony.

“Speaking of,” Twilight continued, “if you get any reports of magical disturbances in the Frozen North, feel free to ignore them.”





“Sweetie Belle, I’m telling you there’s nothing to worry about. Whatever conflict Trixie and Twilight had brewing is over.”

For the filly’s peace of mind, Lyra cast a scrying spell again to check up on the former. As far as she could tell, there’d been no grand battle nor anything of the sort. The two had, if perhaps not sorted out their differences, then at least deescalated tensions with words rather than horns. Trixie had stayed behind to continue practicing her illusions while Twilight had left for Equestria. That was a bit of guesswork on Lyra’s part with Flash’s help, as Loyalty acted only as a compass, but she assumed Twilight didn’t have another secret lab south of this one in the Frozen North.

Lyra canceled her spell. “It’s still just…Trixie…”

Through the corridor, Pinkie hopped by with a huge pot bouncing atop her head while somehow not falling over and spilling its contents. The lid covering it clanked with every landing, and the steam that escaped in a trail of little bursts revealed how hot it all remained.

Lyra grasped the pot in her magic. While Pinkie was Pinkie and her mane probably acted as insulator, she shouldn’t have to do…whatever it was she was doing. They’d set the kitchen up adjacent to the dining room, Lyra recalled. Nopony needed to transport anything more cumbersome than snacks anywhere.

When questioned, Pinkie replied, “I’m taking our supper to the test chamber now that it’s done, silly.”

So that was what this was about. Lyra sighed and conceded with a simple, “Fine.” Resisting Pinkie’s whims rarely turned out well. She reached out toward the dining room with her magic and teleported the table, tableware, cushions, and the salads already laid out to their temporary new home. After that, she teleported the pot of delicious smelling stew there after them.

“There. I moved everything. Now why don’t we–”

A tidal wave of magical flux erupted from above ground. Nopony with a horn could possibly miss it.

“–run and hide from whatever creature from the abyss crawled its way onto dry land.”





Once the initial wave of power died down and the sting left Trixie’s horn, her senses returned to her. It took no effort at all to spot Twilight Sparkle gliding down from the sky on a pair of fake alicorn wings. The armor she recognized from the newspapers after that ridiculous war with the griffons, but the crown was as new as it was pretentious. In the absence of any other explanation, she assumed it was the Element of Magic.

Twilight Sparkle landed without leaving the slightest impression in the snow below her perhaps ten hooves away from the illusionary Trixie she’d left in her place. She had confidence in her abilities, and even at the true distance between them, Twilight Sparkle oozed magic. The noise from that should cover up the remote chance she had of noticing the trick.

“I’m ready whenever you are.”

In the back of her mind, Trixie noted that her jaw hurt as though she’d been grinding her teeth. “Perfectly worded,” she had the illusion say. At the same instant, Niian leapt into action under her direction with a snap-casted spell.

“Explosion.”





The earth shook. Loose bits of stone and dust fell from the ceiling. A weak shield from Lyra kept it out of their food, not that Sweetie Belle had much of an appetite at the moment.

“Oh, come on!” Flash cried. “That should have hit!” He sulkily swallowed a spoonful of stew. Dinner and a show, he’d called it. “Illusionists are dumb.”

“No, the one over there. She’s right there!” Somehow, despite watching an illusion of an illusion, Pinkie always knew where Trixie was even when she was outright invisible instead of merely misdirecting the senses.

Spike, unconcerned and clearly a little bored despite the legendary clash of titans playing out before him, commented, “She should stop playing and just end it already. Trixie isn’t going to thank her for dragging out her humiliation.”

This caught Flash by surprise. “Wait, she’s playing with her? You mean she’s even better than this?” His eyes shone with admiration.

“Well, yeah,” Spike replied. “I mean, it’s not like some showpony who never even finished her education is going to actually challenge her.”

Except Trixie wasn’t just any showpony. Sweetie Belle wanted to explain, but she couldn’t. Archmage Twilight had asked her not to say, and this whole mess was her fault to begin with. She shouldn’t have called Trixie out on not being the greatest modern spellcaster. She shouldn’t have unintentionally given her the idea for this battle. She should have done more to prevent it. She was supposed to help, not ruin everything.

Beside Sweetie Belle, she heard Lyra mumbling, “This is just like home. Equestria isn’t supposed to be like this. I came here to get away from this madness,” while Bon Bon comforted her marefriend with soothing words, cuddles, and nuzzles. Sweetie Belle wasn’t sure what that one was about. She’d have to investigate what language Lyra used in her thoughts later to find out where she’d come from.

An explosion tore apart the sky where Archmage Twilight flew. In other circumstances, Sweetie Belle would have gasped from worry, but this fight had long since drained her emotionally. All she could muster up was some mild, internal worry and a little confidence that her mentor couldn’t fall to anything less than an alicorn.

“What are you waiting for?” Pinkie said as if either Archmage Twilight or Trixie could hear a word of the commentary. “That explosion didn’t hit her.”

Indeed not, nor had any of the others. If she didn’t dodge or counter the magic, the archmage merely teleported to safety.

“Pinkie, who are you rooting for?” Flash asked.

“Both of them,” Pinkie replied. “Duh.”

Archmage Twilight hurled a magical blast with far too much power behind it to do anything but scramble out of its path. It slammed into the ground, seemingly without a target. Perhaps Trixie had been there, or perhaps it had been part of a larger plan to draw her out. Regardless, while the group remained safe in the test chamber under what Lyra had termed siege wards, the miss still shook the earth hard enough to spill some of Sweetie Belle’s nearly untouched bowl of stew.

In a separate thread of conversation, Bon Bon asked, “Hey, Spike? Question. Has Twilight secretly been an alicorn all along?”

Sweetie Belle picked up some very bitter thoughts about Princess Celestia without context from Spike before he pushed them away and replied, “She’s not an alicorn.”

It was true. The Element of Magic, rather than a species change, let Archmage Twilight throw power around without any concern for her own reserves while Trixie had to fight smart. Maybe Spike had actually had a point when he’d claimed that she was only playing. When else would she get a chance to cut loose and test her limits like this against somepony who could take it?

Not that it made Sweetie Belle feel less guilty for provoking this disaster.





When she finally finished this fight, Twilight needed to compose a treatise concerning how much she utterly loathed battling spellcasting assistants. This had quickly become the single most frustrating duel of her entire life. The Night Guardian Staff could compose the most realistic of illusions able to fool all senses in the time it took to blink. It even managed to incorporate magical fluxes into them to deceive her ability to perceive magic. Such was the work of minutes or even hours, not moments!

Worse, every time Twilight found an oversight to exploit, Trixie managed to quickly redesign her illusions to plug the hole. Then the Night Guardian Staff incorporated the modifications into their combined spellcasting. It certainly didn’t help that it was equally fast with every other spell she taught it, including her beloved and insufferable pyrotechnics.

Worst of all, illusions as a whole ranked amongst the least magic-intensive and most efficient spells in existence. Despite their complexity, Trixie could keep this up all day. Turning this into a battle of attrition would just become a test of who could stay awake the longest.

A momentary flux of power was all the warning Twilight received. She beat her wings, sending her soaring skyward just in time to avoid another explosion. The heat wouldn’t hurt her, but the concussive force could daze her for long enough to end the fight if it overcame her protections. Annoyingly enough, Trixie had actually managed to pop her emergency teleport a few times early on before she found her rhythm.

Twilight caught the thermal the explosion generated beneath her wings to build more speed in her flight, thereafter weaving her way between Trixie’s subsequent attacks. It took more time than she’d have liked before she managed to determine the most probable approximate point of origin for the explosions, but she found it.

All right, let’s see if fluid dynamics are part of your illusions yet.

Twilight kicked up a light, uniform wind, for all intents and purposes indistinguishable from a natural breeze. She then cast a few divination spells to measure the air velocity downwind. The results, to her careful delight, showed an obstruction in the area. As the terrain below was relatively flat with no sign of her opponent, that meant one of two things.

First, Trixie’s illusions could, perhaps, account for the passage of air. If so, then the real Trixie would be invisible to such detection, leaving this to be a trap.

Second, Twilight had found her target.

Well, worse-case scenario, I waste a bit of time and smash my way out of a trap with Magic.

After a few more measurements to triangulate Trixie’s location, Twilight teleported right behind her and immediately fired off a short beam of pure power. It dispelled everything in its way via sheer brute force. A few measly illusions wouldn’t weaken it. Shields wavered before it. It would poke a hole through hundreds of spells before it ran out of steam. Fighting with so much magic at her disposal was just unfair.

And it worked!

Trixie’s invisibility illusion shattered under the assault. She let out a startled grunt as the force of the beam sent her flying and, with any luck, knocked her out.

Elated with her success, Twilight rushed to follow up before Trixie could escape again, but it was no use. A surge of power not quite Trixie’s carried her away as another explosion crashed into Twilight and popped her emergency teleport.

Far away and once more in the sky, a scream of frustration tore from Twilight’s mouth. “I hate spellcasting assistants!”

That was it. It was time to stop playing nice. Twilight had a new plan.

Step one required her to erect an anti-teleportation ward a few leagues in diameter. Setting up wards mid-combat was usually a nonstarter, but this game of cat and mouse limited Trixie’s ability to interfere without exposing her position and thus getting pinned down in the effort.

Step two consisted of bombardment spells to blanket the earth. That ought to make it easy to find Trixie. If Luna had a problem with that, tough. Trixie had started this. If she didn’t know how to protect herself, that was her teacher’s own fault.

Besides, Twilight intended to give Luna a piece of her mind when she next went to bed anyway.





Trixie had never before felt so validated for her chosen scholarly pursuits in her life. She was really doing it! She had Twilight Sparkle on the run! Barring a few close calls, she was winning this fight. Sure, she’d been a little cautious – not nervous or apprehensive – when her archrival had shown up as an alicorn – even if just a fake one – prepared for war, but it didn’t matter. Sooner or later, Twilight Sparkle would make a mistake she could capitalize upon. She couldn’t dodge explosions and traps forever.

The ambient magic shifted and disrupted Trixie’s subspace storage, causing all of her things inside it to burst out of containment.

“Warning: area dimensional anchor detected.”

Annoyed, Trixie muttered, “Yeah, I got that,” as she tidied up the tricks, props, and artifacts dotting the snow. It seemed Twilight Sparkle had somehow managed to set up a ward in-between taking pot shots at the ground in a vain effort to hit her. No matter. I don’t lean on teleportation like a crutch as she does. The loss of access to other dimensional magic was even less of a concern.

As a quick check, a light hop carried Trixie several hooves into the air. Her mobility enchantments were still working properly, so if it became necessary, she could still dodge attacks. She suspected Twilight Sparkle had snuck something else into the erected ward, but without time to analyze it, she would just have to be careful.

Oddly, in the meanwhile, Twilight Sparkle had ascended into the sky high enough to hover over what remained of the cloud cover in the sky. It hid her from sight – at least in the visible spectrum – but that was about it. Unless she intended to drop things using all that gravitational potential, Trixie didn’t see the point. Perhaps she would conjure a blizzard?

Trixie snorted. As if a little snowfall could find me.

Regardless, if Twilight Sparkle was going to put that amount of distance between them and give her so much time to work with, Trixie had a way to finish this. Twilight Sparkle wasn’t the only pony who got to play with lost, ancient magics. So far away, she could safely unleash the spell which, in the infancy of its reconstruction from the fragments she’d found as a filly, had gotten her expelled.

Trixie planted her staff in the snow. She didn’t need the distraction when working such intricate magic, nor did she wish for its assistance at her moment of triumph.

“Niian, create a duplicate of me to mirror everything. And amplify my voice.”

Showing off might not have been the wisest choice, but Trixie was a showpony at heart. Winning meant nothing if it couldn’t be done in style.

Trixie first constructed a fairly standard metamagic spell to contain any magic which passed through it. That would power her attack in due time once it’d collected enough ambient magic. As it charged, she billowed her cape with a bit of wind magic for style. Then while she weaved the magic for her ultimate attack, she recited the entirely unnecessary verbal components that had come with it half out of respect for its original creator and half just because it set her blood on fire.

“Darkness blacker than black and darker than dark, I beseech thee.

“Combine with my deep crimson.

“The time of awakening cometh.

“Justice, fallen upon the infallible boundary, appear now as an intangible distortion!”

Niian interrupted Trixie’s moment. “Warning: large magical buildup detected above.”

Trixie didn’t care. If Twilight Sparkle wanted to pit their final attacks against each other, she couldn’t conceive of a more appropriate way to end this.

“Dance, dance, dance!

“I desire for my torrent of power a destructive force!

“A destructive force without equal!”

A gleeful smile stretched across Trixie’s face wide enough to hurt.

“Return all creation to cinders, and come from the abyss!”

Trixie scooped up Niian and pointed it skyward as she tied the spell into its power source.

“Explosion!”

It started as a pinprick of blinding light far above, a tiny point of energy with density far surpassing the sun’s. Then it expanded. In a blink, it covered the entire sky. Clouds vaporized. Snow melted. Even the sun itself faded into nothing, the light of day proving no match for its own.

It was so beautiful.

The blast wave hit moments later. Niian shielded them against it, the scalding heat, and the subsequent pull of negative pressure toward the epicenter of the blast. Trixie just watched the sky in awe. She’d known it would work. The theory behind it was sound. The mechanics, well tested. But she’d never before had the opportunity to cast the spell in the waking world.





Alone within Princess Celestia’s office, Moon Dancer passed off a written summary of the Evening Guard’s latest field report. She suspected the choice on what course of action to pursue would usually fall under Twilight’s purview, but she’d not signed up to make foreign policy decisions.

“‘The Storm King’?” Princess Celestia arched an eyebrow as she read, and just a hint of her amusement revealed itself in her smile. “It inspires a certain sense of awe, I admit, but his old name suited him better. No matter.” She set the report aside. “The EIS can continue surveillance as is. If he intends to march his army on one of our allies, we will do what we must.”

That sounded sensible as a matter of international relations, but Moon Dancer pressed the point of greater concern. “What about the threat to you and Twilight?”

“With the Staff of Sacanas in our possession, he could hardly use me as a magical battery.” A bit of a smirk entered into Princess Celestia’s smile now. Unsaid was that he would need to subdue her first. “And while everyone knows she’s secretly an alicorn” – she rolled her eyes – “in all honesty, Twilight would be of little use in the unlikely event of her capture.”

Princess Celestia’s expression turned thoughtful as she made a pleased hum. “That said, this does create some intriguing possibilities. Perhaps we can experiment with the staff together tomorrow. It would be good to know its maximum load.”

The ability for Princess Celestia to willingly lend out her own power to others did, in fact, sound incredible. Moon Dancer certainly wouldn’t begrudge her a little sleeping in if she wanted somepony else to cycle night and day for her. How often did that sort of opportunity arise? Once in a lifetime? A generation? An era? It was likely the latter, and Moon Dancer hoped she didn’t miss it.

A flash of light appeared beyond the horizon in the window behind Celestia. A moment later, a strangled cry escaped Moon Dancer when she realized which direction it’d come from. Canterlot had the advantage of a high elevation, but it should not be possible to see anything in the Frozen North from here. Even the superstorms the area created were lost to the distance between them.

“Is something wrong?”

Moon Dancer chuckled nervously. Much like foreign policy, lying to Princess Celestia wasn’t what she’d signed up for. She scrambled for something to say that didn’t involve the bearers fighting amongst themselves, and thankfully, she came up with an actual good excuse. “I, uh, hope you’re not expecting me to be your sparring partner. I have zero combat training.”

If Princess Celestia caught Moon Dancer in the lie, she didn’t call her on it.





Twilight shook her head as she stared up at the gaping hole in the sky where there used to be clouds. How Trixie thought she could completely hide the buildup of magic necessary for such a spell in so short a time, Twilight would never comprehend. The payoff was impressive, to be sure, but it’d made it so easy to find her.

“Well, Trixie, I have to admit that probably would have burned Spike, nevermind me.”

Unconscious on the ground, face first in the snow, Trixie had no snippy response.

“There are reasons why we don’t usually use big, flashy spells like that, you know. Luna must have taught you that. Between yours and mine, you completely missed me teleporting down here.”

Trixie rolled over for better access to air under the direction of Twilight’s magic. The thin layer of ice already forming from meltwater atop the snow snapped and crackled as their weight shifted.

“Even if I’d blocked my own teleportation, my ward was mine to control. If you thought I was stuck up there, well, obviously not.”

Such simple little errors in judgment too often became a pony’s downfall. But by the same token, Trixie’s mistakes were easily corrected. If they ever fought seriously again, she likely wouldn’t repeat them.

“And you.” The Night Guardian Staff levitated closer under Twilight’s direction. “She lost. I’m not going to hurt her. Behave yourself, and just let her rest.” After a few moments, she added a more tentative, “Please?”

Twilight cautiously released the suppression she’d put the staff under. When it didn’t immediately wake Trixie or try anything else, she let out a sigh of relief and then thanked it for its cooperation. She didn’t know if it understood her, but a little possibly pointless politeness wouldn’t hurt anypony.

“What do I do now?”





Sweetie Drops surveyed the table around her. Flash and Spike were toasting the archmage’s victory. Pinkie had already finished with that and moved on to something involving crayons. In her experience, it would result in a party of some sort, hopefully not a victory party. Trixie would probably blow up if she stumbled upon that, both figuratively and perhaps literally.

On the other side of the table, Sweetie Drops whispered quiet nothings and gentle reassurances into her marefriend’s ear while rubbing her back and offering the occasional comforting nuzzle. She’d not been able to prevent Lyra’s panic attack, but she had managed to keep her love from bolting or lashing out any anypony. No, Trixie was not a seapony. No, neither was Equestria’s archmage. No, neither of them were here to drag anypony back to Aquestria. No abyssal horrors had crawled up onto dry land. Everything was going to be okay.

Sweetie Drops didn’t so much believe that last part after today, but she and Lyra could face the looming threat of Nightmare Moon together once they’d gotten through this lesser challenge.

To Sweetie Drops’s left, across from Spike and at what should have been the archmage’s right if it weren’t for this blasted fight, Sweetie Belle had fallen into a deep funk. It was, judging by the gloomy look on her face, worse than that time Rarity had yelled at her for being in the way. Sweetie Drops didn’t know what that was about. Her idol had won, after all. Now wasn’t the best time to ask, however, with Lyra still pulling herself together.

Careful not to let it slip out into reality, Sweetie Drops heaved a long sigh internally. She’d been on missions that had gone to Tartarus faster and harder, but none of them had held the same stakes as this one. Still, she’d do everything she could to make this one end successfully. Right now, that involved comforting her love and hoping Lyra didn’t have any lasting mental scars from this.





The trip back to the lab with Trixie and the Night Guardian Staff in tow was thankfully uneventful. Twilight knew Canterlot would have dozens of reports of the battle by now after that last attack. With any luck, Celestia’s nonappearance meant Moon Dancer had kept the information from getting to her.

When Twilight arrived inside, she conjured up a cloud and tossed Trixie onto it with a cloudwalking spell. She neither knew nor cared right now which room Trixie had taken for a bedroom. If somepony else wanted to drag her off to wherever she belonged, that was just fine by Twilight. If not, that, too, was fine. Twilight honestly couldn’t care less at this point. Onto a nearby lab bench, she deposited the Night Guardian Staff and dumped the rest of Trixie’s stuff onto the ground.

Thus unburdened, Twilight made her way through the compound until she came upon her bedroom. She kicked the door open, slammed it behind her, tossed her blankets aside, and finally collapsed onto her bed. Both physically and magically, she had energy to spare. Emotionally, however, she was exhausted. Today had drained her of all but the last dregs of her ability to pretend everything was going to be okay. She just wanted to sleep and forget, so she did.

Twilight’s dreamscape formed around her without her involvement or permission.

Right. Luna. Twilight heaved a tired sigh. What are the odds she hasn’t already heard about my fight with Trixie?

Only those without hope sought its comfort. With no reason to expect any better luck than she’d had over the past couple weeks, Twilight decided to await Luna’s arrival rather than seek her out. Such was one of the few petty power moves she’d picked up from Celestia and actually bothered to remember, and she certainly felt petty right now.

While she waited, Twilight contemplated the statue of Discord, a recreation of his prison, only a few steps away from her. She’d built it outside and hadn’t had time to either store it or remove it before awakening. It would probably be best to keep it on hoof in case she ever needed it again in the future. Perhaps she’d turn it into the centerpiece of a fountain when she had the time.

For now, however, Twilight had, if Celestia was any measure, a faithful teacher to deal with whose student she’d just laid low and humiliated.

When Luna first appeared from the door to Twilight’s tower, she moved with purpose and with her lips pressed into a thin line but as yet displayed no apparent anger. That boded better than expected. Whether it be by design, nature, or a symptom of her relative isolation, Twilight found she showed her emotions to those around her far more freely than her sister.

Twilight spoke first. “Shouldn’t you be with Trixie?”

“If my presence were welcome.” Luna made no effort to hide the hurt and worry behind those words. “What happened?”

In all honesty, Twilight was unsure. “I didn’t hurt her,” she first assured Luna – not physically, at least – before relaying the events leading up to Trixie’s demand for a fight. The explanation spilled forth without interruption, neither question nor comment. When she finished, Luna gave her a resigned sigh. “What?”

“It’s not my place to say. I only ask you to show Trixie patience. She’s had a difficult life, and we both had a part to play in that.”

Twilight had read enough novels in her short life to know she should insist on a proper explanation. Privacy was all well and good, but whatever Luna had opted not to reveal was clearly an explosive issue – pun not intended – which needed careful handling. “It’s probably going to become even more difficult if I don’t know what I’m getting into.”

“Such is unavoidable, unfortunately. This was a long time coming, and she can no longer kick the can down the road.” A long, tired sigh escaped Luna. “Her demons are her own to confront. I made my own attempt to help her, but I got to her too late and merely exacerbated her struggle.”

So she’s not going to tell me anything. Twilight had hoped for more but got what she’d expected. “And when would the right time to help her have been?” Perhaps Luna would at least answer that.

“Anytime before her expulsion, most likely. Of course, that’s what first drew my attention to her.” Luna offered nothing more than a helpless shrug once she’d said her piece.

But that information, provided she acquired a little more context, had actual value. When she woke, Twilight would have to ask the EIS to perform a background check on Trixie for her to find out what had changed upon her expulsion. Beyond the obvious, of course.

At any rate, now that they’d gotten all that out of the way, Twilight had words for Luna. “You gave Trixie a spellcasting assistant.”

An evil grin grew on Luna’s face. “I did,” she said without a hint of shame. “Did she give you a run for your money?”

“You trained a monster!”

Luna laughed. “Thank you for the compliment. Tell me truly, how close was the battle?”

Twilight huffed in answer. With a little prodding, she said, “Your Lulamoon blew it at the end. Until then, it was the single most frustrating fight of my life. Her illusions were so…” The exact right word escaping her, Twilight settled for an appropriately frustrated growl. “Without Magic on my side, she might have been able to wear me down.”

“Ah, you have no idea how proud I am to hear that.”

“Your pride is directly proportional to the pain in my flank.”

“Yes, yes,” Luna said dismissively. “Trixie and I labored for years to make ‘combat illusionist’ a viable style. That entire school of magic is normally too cumbersome for the fast pace of battle.”

Strictly speaking, there were a number of smaller scale illusions essential to high-level engagements, but Twilight resisted the urge to nitpick. Most illusions did require far too long in general to lay down when every second counted. Of course, the Night Guardian Staff changed the rules. What it lacked in creativity, it made up for in computational power.

“How wonderful to hear all that work was not in vain,” Luna continued with a delighted clap of her hooves to which Twilight just scoffed. “One can never be sure in dreams.”

That sounded wrong to Twilight’s ear. “You never tested her in the waking world?”

“A bit,” Luna admitted, “but we fell out with each other shortly after she retrieved the Night Guardian Staff.”

Luna said nothing more on that subject, and the regret so clear in her voice and on her face kept them silent for a time. Twilight ignored the little voice of sympathy in the back of her mind and took solace in what that revealed. It seemed this division between the two, unless they were playing some vastly complicated game with her to fool Honesty, existed entirely on Trixie’s end. Perhaps, then, not all hope was lost for Celestia’s freedom if Trixie had actively rejected whatever overtures of reconciliation Luna had already made.

“Does Trixie truly still introduce herself as Trixie Lulamoon?”

But there was that. Twilight didn’t know if it provided evidence for Trixie’s continued love for her mentor or if it came from a place of spite. One never really knew with wayward students. Regardless, Twilight answered the question honestly. She saw no reason not to.

Luna fell into a pensive, faraway stare for a time. From the variety of expressions that passed over her, she didn’t know what to make of it either.

Then without warning, Luna broke into a wide grin. “Today is campaign night.”

Twilight ears perked up at the news. Six to eight hours of uninterrupted immersion in another mare’s life and problems sounded like just what she needed right now.

“But you’ve gone to bed early.”

“I’m happy to stay the whole session,” Twilight said wholeheartedly. The waking world, as far as she was concerned, wasn’t her problem until tomorrow morning. “If I drop out before we’re done, I’ll just put myself back to sleep.”

Luna nodded, pleased. “Of course. But to pass the time until the others are ready, might I make a suggestion?”

Curious, Twilight arched an eyebrow and replied, “What did you have in mind?”

“Well…” Extending an arm just so, a staff teleported into Luna’s grasp. Although it didn’t look too similar to the one Trixie had wielded, they both shared a night motif that made the identity of the artifact all too obvious. She rolled her shoulders, and her wings shifted. “You’ve faced the student. How would you like to face the master?”

A matching grin grew on Twilight’s face. She dreamt up a duplicate of her armor and skipped the difficult process of donning it by willing it directly onto her. Next, she teleported them to the top floor of her tower. This, she decided, would be her portal room to other spaces within her dream. She crafted one of a simple circular design much like the entrance to her dreamscape in the tower’s ground floor. It would take them to an endless space with randomly generated terrain. Perhaps in time she would refine it more, but for now she merely covered it with water, grass, and bare rock according to height.

“Impressive for the work of minutes,” Luna said once they’d passed through the portal. “Mathematics truly has come a long way since my banishment. I recall when I would sculpt landscapes largely by hoof. What algorithm did you use?”

“Just Perlin noise.”

Somewhat surprisingly, Luna nodded immediately. “Simple, but effective. Now then, shall we?”

Twilight quickly banished the portal back for the safety of her theoretically indestructible tower. “One question first. My dreamscape has no limit on personal magic use. I’d rather this not devolve into us mindlessly flinging magic around. What limits shall I impose?”

“Upon us both equally, I presume?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “If this is to be anything but a foregone conclusion.” She knew better than to fight alicorns directly as a puny mortal.

“Then let us spar with whatever you are used to. Ambient magic included.”

“You sure you can handle being so reduced, Your Divine Highness?”

Luna laughed. “Why do you think it was my sister who got slapped with the Alicorn Accords?”

That was a fair point, Twilight admitted as she adjusted her dream in this space accordingly. “This does mean only unicorn magic, you know.”

“Acceptable.”

Twilight resisted summoning a copy of Magic. She might need the advantage to compete with Luna’s centuries of experience, but she would first try without it. “Anything else?”

“Only this. En garde!”
> Chapter Seventeen - Rarity Takes Canterlot
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

After so many years, it was finally time to sit down and begin tackling the problem once more. There were four barriers to overcome: magnitude, density, resilience, and specificity. The first she’d solved. The second had proven intractable. The third yet remained a mystery. Perhaps the fourth, then, was the place to start.





Ponyville had, per capita, perhaps the busiest train station in Equestria. It sat comfortably atop the main artery of Equestria’s breadbasket just south of the capital. Most commercial traffic thundered by on the lines thankfully far removed from the village’s center, yet it remained unusually well connected to the rest of Equestria in spite of its modest size. A pony could purchase a ticket to anywhere in the country any time of day and expect to be able to leave within the hour.

Such was a major factor why Rarity, a high-end seamstress and designer, could operate out of a town that largely had no need for her services. She was mildly inconvenient to reach for her Canterlot clientele but just a bit out of the way for everypony else. It worked. Not ideally, of course, but she got by.

Rarity hummed a cheery song as she trotted into Ponyville’s train station with a spring in her step. Even at this early hour, the festival crowd going about their business had the platform packed. Luckily, she managed to buy passage to Canterlot and found an open seat on the very next train with plenty of room for all of her luggage. If she’d known she wouldn’t have to travel so lightly, she would have brought more than just the bare essentials!

“Hey, Rarity.” Rainbow Dash flew up to the seat across the aisle and flumped into it with her usual lack of refinement. “What’s up with all the stuff? You moving or something?”

“With just this?” The very thought of it! “No, I’m only visiting Canterlot for now. But soon, if all goes well.”

Surprise showed on Rainbow Dash’s face before it settled into a look of realization. “Oh yeah. The squirt told me Sweetie Belle got herself an apprenticeship from that Index mare. You finally taking custody?”

“Not exactly. It’s…” Rarity had the distinct impression that Twilight no longer cared if anypony knew Index’s true identity, but as she’d not been explicitly released from her vow of silence, she prevaricated. “–complicated.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

Rarity offered Rainbow Dash a sympathetic smile but, knowing how guarded and defensive she could be about her softer side, ended any pursuit of that conversation there. Instead, Rarity indulged a more polite curiosity. “Might I ask what business you have on a train?”

Rather than take any offense, Rainbow Dash had the self-awareness to explain. “I’m escorting Fluttershy. She’s got an interview with some hotshot zookeeper or something at the castle.”

“The castle!” Rarity cried in excitement. “Oh, you simply must tell me everything. Where is she?”

Nodding toward the back of the carriage, Rainbow Dash said, “We’re riding in the royal car.”

Rarity gasped. “The royal car?”

“Yeah, it’s, uh… It’s complicated. Wanna join us?”

As if one even needed to ask! Rarity would never turn down an invitation like that. After gathering her things into her magic, the pair headed back to the royal car.

Upon her entry, Rarity immediately set to inspecting the decor. While the sun motif was unmistakable, as Princess Celestia tended to prefer chariots to trains, the sofas and chairs were sized for a regular pony. At the back, one large cushion on the ground could double as either a bed or comfortable place of rest for the princess. The designers had made some concession to durability, but only the otherwise finest materials were used from the Somnambulan cotton curtains to the Saddle Arabian carpeting. Even the lampshades, though not currently in use, had exquisite embellishments fit for royalty.

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes from the sofa she’d reclined upon. “Yeah, yeah. It’s fancy. Aren’t you at least going to say hello?”

“Oh, how terribly rude of me. Fluttershy, dear, it’s good to see you out and about.”

Fluttershy offered a shy smile in return. “Good morning, Rarity.”

“So then,” Rarity began as she took her seat, “Rainbow Dash tells me you have some exciting news to share. She was a bit vague on the details, but it wouldn’t happen to involve Mr Greenhooves, would it?”

The light of recognition in Fluttershy’s eyes said everything for her.

“Oh my! I had heard he wanted to train his successor for when he retired, but darling, the caretaker of the royal menagerie! I don’t think there’s a more prestigious position in Equestria for animal care.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not that important,” Fluttershy said.

“But it is!” Rarity insisted in perfect honesty. Nothing else even came close. Then remembering who exactly she was talking to, she added, “It may be a quiet job, but it’s very well respected. I simply cannot think of anypony more deserving, although I do wonder how Mr Greenhooves found you. You must admit you don’t like to make waves.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Rarity noticed Rainbow Dash biting on her lip and ever so slightly averting her gaze. Curious. She knows something. Something she’s ashamed of, perhaps? It couldn’t be so simple as dropping Fluttershy’s name, then. Hmm…

Meanwhile, Fluttershy replied, “I don’t know. I’m just happy to have the chance to meet all of the animals in the menagerie. I never thought I would.”

“So what are you headed to Canterlot for, Rarity?” It wasn’t the most elegant way to change the conversation, but social grace never had been one of Rainbow Dash’s strong points.

Well, I suppose this is a mystery for another time. It wouldn’t do to upset Fluttershy by pursuing whatever secret Rainbow Dash held just yet.

Thus Rarity settled in as the train finally departed to explain her own circumstances. While both Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash knew of her, delicately put, difficulties with her parents on some level, she gave them the full story. There would be no containing the gossip once Her Excellency Archmage Twilight Sparkle herself arrived to throw her weight around. She had many talents, but subtlety was not amongst them. As such, Rarity presumed it best they heard the truth of the matter straight from her rather than listen to whatever rumors surfaced around her family.

Then with the background information out of the way, Rarity shared her plans to move the Carousel Boutique to Canterlot so she could continue to look after Sweetie Belle. It did, of course, also line up with her own professional and personal interests, but such was a secondary consideration in the grand scheme of things – a perk, one might say. To do so, however, required her to first find the perfect place to operate out of.

Once she finished, Rainbow Dash had her own surprise to reveal. She, too, would leave Ponyville for Canterlot sometime in the coming summer. Between her, Fluttershy, and Twilight, Rarity would have two of her closest friends and one she hoped to get to know much better so near at hoof. How wonderful!

Even more good news followed. Scootaloo had an invitation to attend school in Canterlot as well, something Sweetie Belle had neglected to inform Rarity of if she knew. Having one of her best friends move with her should, with any luck, go a long way to easing their parents into accepting this change.

The trip between Ponyville and Canterlot passed in what felt like the blink of the eye. When they arrived, if felt like coming home at long last. Brilliant spires of marble and gold rose from the streets. All of the buildings were crafted of proper stone instead of wood and thatching. Gentle streams and well-maintained foliage decorated the city. Despite the passing centuries, tireless maintenance, and changing styles, Canterlot had managed to retain a certain je ne sais quoi from its construction in the early Solar Era. The only place in Equestria – no, the world – with even half of its magnificence would be Manehattan, and nowhere could compete with its artistic majesty.

A servant from the castle awaited Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash when they stepped off the train, offering to take their luggage for them. Fluttershy, sticking very close to Rainbow Dash, mutely nodded while the latter, as was her flighty nature, had brought nothing with her.

“Oh, yeah,” Rainbow Dash said. She whispered something to Fluttershy, receiving a nod in return. “Hey, Rarity. Want to crash at the castle with us?”

Rarity was very proud of herself for not fainting, but only just.

The trip to the castle passed quickly even if their assistant had a little trouble carrying their luggage. The guards posted at the gate let them pass without issue, and they were shown to a guest room easily large enough to accommodate all three of them. From what Rarity had heard, she assumed it was one of the nicer guest quarters available, perhaps only a single step removed from the ambassadorial suites. She had a sneaking suspicion that the generosity had something to do with whatever Rainbow Dash was hiding, but she again opted not to press while Fluttershy was around.

Speaking of whom, Rainbow Dash dragged Fluttershy off to the kitchens while muttering something about taking advantage of the opportunity. Rarity, still needing to unpack, remained behind. More importantly, she needed a proper dress or a few accessories in a pinch if she were to stay here. Had she known in advance, she would have made something special. Alas, she would just have to make do.

A knock came at the door while Rarity was making her final decision on which hat to wear. She quickly threw on the pink, floral one and called for her guest to enter.

“Oh, sorry, I think I have the wrong room.”

“Perhaps not, I…” When Rarity turned and realized who she was speaking to, she slipped into a bow as quickly as she could without any loss of grace. “Would you perchance be looking for Rainbow Dash, Your Highness?”

“Yes, actually,” Princess Mi Amore Cadenza replied. "The guard informed me of her arrival with Fluttershy…” She trailed off with an inquiring look.

“I’m Rarity. We bumped into each other on the train to Canterlot, and they invited me to stay with them tonight. I believe they’re currently in the kitchens.”

Princess Mi Amore Cadenza’s laughter had a lightness too it more often associated with a mare half her age. And now that Rarity stopped to look at her properly, she certainly looked more like a mare in her mid twenties rather than her early forties. Rarity had seen pictures of her before in the newspaper, of course, but photographers always tried to capture royalty in their best light. Seeing her in person was remarkably different.

“I should have expected something like that. Oh well, I can speak with her later. A pleasure to meet you, Rarity. I’m Princess Cadance.” Judging by the slight strain on the emphasis, it would seem that the rumors were true. Princess Cadance rather disliked her full name, which was understandable, really. It was quite a mouthful. “What brings you to Canterlot?”

“Business both personal and professional. Does the name Sweetie Belle mean anything to you yet?”

Princess Cadance’s eyes lit up in recognition. “My daughter and nephew’s pen pal. That would make you her…”

“Older sister. She and I will be moving here after the solstice, so I need to find a new building for my boutique.”

“Oh! Of course. You’re the fashion designer from Ponyville.”

Suppressing her glee to a more respectful and controlled smile, Rarity dipped into a brief bob with a bright, “At your service,” in acknowledgment of the recognition. She’d known she’d truly begun to attract attention in the industry, but to think royalty had heard of her!

“Why the move, if I may ask?”

With no interest in airing her family’s dirty laundry in front of a princess, Rarity merely replied with the heart of the matter. “Twilight decided to take my sister on as her protégé.”

Princess Cadance’s eyes went wide, but the words she tried to form never left her lips.

“As I understand it, the arrangement would be similar to the one she had with Princess Celestia.”

A dry snort met that. “She’s not trying to press you into the guard, is she?”

Rarity answered the question with an amused smile. “Not my calling, I’m afraid.” It might be best not to mention that she did possess some training in the martial arts to keep fit. “I do suspect she’s interested in employing me as her personal artificer, however. As concerns enchanted clothing, at least.”

“If I had a bit for every time she said she doesn’t have time for that…” Princess Cadance shook her head. “Well, Rarity, I think you and I should get to know one another better. Would you care for a tour of the castle?”

“I would love one, Your Highness, if I would not take time away from more important affairs.”

Princess Cadance waved the concern away with a wing. “Nonsense. If Twilight treats Sweetie Belle anything like how Aunt Celestia treated her, we’ll be as good as family before too long.” She turned and invited Rarity to follow her before pausing. “Oh, uh, just don’t marry Blueblood like Shining married me.”

Despite herself, Rarity snickered. There certainly was some history between him and Twilight. She must have heard at least a dozen different accounts of the story. Not that it was of any true concern. Prince Blueblood had already married years ago.

As they walked through the guest wing of the castle, Rarity snuck glance after glance before her curiosity fully overcame her. “Strictly between mares,” she began, “if we’re to be as good as family, how is it you look not a day over twenty-five?”

“Oh, my husband doesn’t allow me to age.”

Rarity had no idea how to respond to that.

A snicker escaped Princess Cadance a few seconds later. With the ruse broken, she explained in full. “I’m only half joking. It’s one of the perks of marrying into a family of extraordinarily gifted unicorns. Shining and I locked our physical ages years ago. If I recall correctly, Twilight mentioned doing the same herself sometime last year. I know she was badgering the educational department about it for a while before throwing her hooves up and storming out. The details are probably in her textbook, if you’ve ever heard of it, but to be honest, you’d be better off asking her if you want to know more. She’d probably be willing to cover you until Sweetie Belle can do it for you.”

“Hmm, perhaps I should have read that book myself before I gifted it to her.”

Princess Cadance laughed. “It is titled 103 Spells Every Unicorn Should Know.”

So it was. One might suppose it wise to listen to the archmage on matters of magic.

The tour Princess Cadance led Rarity on was everything she’d ever dreamt it would be and more. She got to see the throne room, the archives, the great hall, Twilight’s tower, and even the royal apartments, including both Princess Celestia’s personal study and the practically adjacent room where Twilight had grown up.

But then came the art gallery! On display was Princess Celestia’s personal collection from across the centuries. There were sculptures. There were paintings. There were brittle parchments bearing the original copies of poems. Oh, and the stained glass windows were simply to die for!

“Is that Nimble Hooves’s As the Sun Rises?” Rarity had never thought she’d get to see the priceless relic in person. “Oh, such bold strokes of the brush! And the colors! It truly captures the beauty of the dawn, and yet you can feel the conflicting sorrow and resolve underlaying the depiction of Princess Celestia.”

There was not enough time in the day to truly appreciate the history unfolding before Rarity’s eyes. Before she even had a chance to give voice to a few of her curiosities about the painting, her gaze landed onto another treasure. It was a more recent creation but would, she knew, be no less prized a few centuries down the line.

“The Faithful Students,” Princess Cadance stated. “Auntie says it’s not entirely accurate, but every one of her protégés from Sparkler and Twilight all the way to Twilight Sparkle is at least represented.”

Not quite able to peel her eyes off the painting, Rarity asked, “They wouldn’t happen to be her namesake, would they?”

Princess Cadance gave it some thought before replying. “I don’t believe she’s related to Sparkler in any significant manner. I’d have to check to be sure. But for what it’s worth, she is the matrilineal descendant of the original Twilight. The family passed the name down in an unbroken chain, which makes it extraordinarily easy to track through history. Even so, when you travel back so many generations, ancestry starts to lose any real meaning. Auntie didn’t even know until Twilight wrote a report about it.”

That certainly sounds like something she would do. “Do you know what the inaccuracies are?”

“What you expect, I imagine.” Princess Cadance pointed to the third student with one of her primaries. “Wrong eye color.” She moved to the sixth. “Wrong shade of coat.” Then the eighth. “Way too tall.” The fifteenth. “Wrong gender.”

“What?” How could somepony possibly get that wrong? Rarity did recall Twilight mentioning the possibilities of shapeshifting, but still.

Princess Cadance shrugged and merely said, “Don’t know the story myself,” before moving on to the next error. “Pegasus. Assassinated young and posthumously given a horn in most historical records despite Auntie’s wrath.”

Rarity flinched. Tribalism did tend to manifest most often in unicorns.

“There might be more, but I’m not an expert.” For a moment, Princess Cadance’s feather lingered on the space between Twilight and her direct predecessor centuries ago. “We should send this back to the painter for corrections.”

“Better while you can than having to explain for the rest of time,” Rarity offered. She imagined such problems haunted Princess Celestia like a gray hair.

Then Rarity’s eye fell onto one of the great stained glass windows spanning from the floor to the edge of the vaulted ceiling. It featured Twilight prominently in her battle against the Griffon Kingdom in a dazzling display of light and color.

“Auntie likes to commission these to commemorate the major events and triumphs of her reign.”

“And Twilight still doesn’t know this one exists,” a regal, new voice added. Both mirth and a touch of exasperation lived in it.

The moment Rarity saw who had joined them, she slipped into an even deeper bow than she’d given Princess Cadance. Before she could say anything, however, the princess commanded her to rise and carried on with her commentary.

“I meant it to be a surprise. Privately, I would have enjoyed her fluster when she noticed. But alas, my dear archmage has little appreciation for the arts.” Princess Celestia chuckled at some private joke before turning her full attention back onto Rarity. “Cadance?”

“Oh yes. This is Rarity.”

Princess Celestia’s eyes immediately lit up. “Sweetie Belle’s elder sister?”

In hindsight, of course Twilight had told her mentor she’d taken on a student of her own. She’d probably gone to Princess Celestia seeking advice. But that was neither here nor there. Rarity, however, was not the first to overcome her surprise.

“You knew?” Princess Cadance asked with a little stomp of her hoof. “Auntie, you have to tell me these things!”

Despite the almost sacrilegious demand, Princess Celestia offered a laughing apology. “Will you be in town tomorrow evening, Rarity?”

While she had made no plans to linger beyond however long it took her to find a new place of business, Rarity had no intention of turning down whatever royal invitation the question implied. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Wonderful. In that case, could I impose upon you for dinner tomorrow?”

Was this really happening? It was! “It would be my pleasure.”

Princess Celestia nodded. “I recently organized for you and your sister’s apartment to be prepared. It may not be fully ready yet, but it should be available to you.”

Rarity bowed shortly as she shared her gratitude, after which Princess Celestia excused herself to return to the affairs of state.





“Fluttershy, dear, please pick up the pace.” Rarity could understand her discomfort with crowds, but really, it wasn’t like anypony here would even notice she existed unless she physically bumped into them. That was just how big cities were. “If we tarry, we’ll miss our chance to view the building I have my eye on.”

Lazily flying alongside them, Rainbow Dash added her two bits. “We wouldn’t be in a rush if you hadn’t spent four hours trying on dresses.”

Rarity scoffed. “Darling, one does not show up underdressed to dine with the princess. If I had only known or if I had more time, I would have brought one of my own designs appropriate to the occasion.” She sighed. Even with what she’d bought, she’d still need to perform some minor alterations herself to adjust the fit before this evening. “Desperate times calls for desperate measures.”

A whispered exchange between the two pegasi trailing behind resulted in a giggle and a groan. Rarity, however, paid the two no mind and pressed on toward the office building of her possible future landlord.

Not too long later, they were on the ground floor of what Rarity just knew would be her new Canterlot Carousel. It had all the floor space she needed, the perfect dais for private fashion shows, a private area well suited for fittings, and even an internal balcony between floors. The upper story she easily envisioned turning into a work room and storage. With her residence at the castle, there would be no danger of clutter. She would have to do a considerable amount of decorating, of course, but that had never been in question no matter where she went. Assuming the building came with no restrictions on repainting, she would take it.

Reading and signing the rental agreement took far less time than Rarity expected. The price was quite a bit higher than she was used to, but such was the nature of moving to the city. Ponyville didn’t exactly boast of its high property values. In time, perhaps she would simply offer to buy the building outright.

“Well?” Rainbow Dash asked when Rarity met her and Fluttershy back outside.

Rarity beamed. “Signed, sealed, and delivered. The Canterlot Carousel is one step closer to open for business.” Next, she needed to hire a team to pack, transport, and unload all of her equipment from Ponyville. Or maybe it would be best to paint first. Regardless, there was also the matter of what to do with the Carousel Boutique. She had so many fond memories there. Maybe she would simply retain ownership and repurpose it as a country retreat.

“Congratulations,” Fluttershy said. “I’m glad you finally have the chance to live your dream.”

“Thank you, dear. I hope I can say the same myself?”

“Oh my, yes. The menagerie isn’t quite the animal sanctuary I was hoping for, but it’s so peaceful and open. So free. Mr Greenhooves won’t make his final decision for a little while yet, but I think I made a good impression once I worked up my courage.”

Rarity, excited, swept forward and pulled Fluttershy into a hug. “Oh, darling, this is so wonderful. I don’t know what I would have done without my spa date.”

A long groan, clearly with as much boredom as a pony could put into it, emanated from above. “Yeah, yeah. Everypony’s happy. Can we go home now?”

Smirking, Rarity said, “You could, but I thought I’d treat you two to a bit of pampering. A mare has to look her best, especially before dining with royalty.”

“Ugh… Pass!”

Rarity and Fluttershy exchanged a look before breaking down into giggles.

“Perhaps I could offer to take Fluttershy off your hooves for today?” Rarity suggested. She would be heading back to Ponyville tomorrow unless something came up, and she did, after all, have her own apartment in the castle with a spare bedroom.

This, however, was not to be. “I’m sorry, Rarity, but I really should be getting back to Ponyville. Who knows what trouble my animal friends could have gotten into while I’ve been gone.”

That worry would certainly prevent Fluttershy from properly enjoying a trip to the spa. Rarity knew how she could get about her animals. Thus after she’d collected her things from the castle, they made their way toward Canterlot Central Station, where Rarity saw them off.

Alone now, Rarity asked around for a reputable salon. Despite her teasing, she didn’t need a full spa treatment to prepare for tonight, only a little touching up and some assistance with styling her mane. It only took her a few minutes to settle on what popular opinion suggested was her best option and even less time to get directions.

Upon her arrival, Rarity managed to talk her way into a quick session without an appointment. It might have involved a few tears, a dramatized retelling of her predicament, and a little outright bribery for the rush in the form of a tip, but she managed it. In a year or so, as it was in Ponyville at Aloe and Lotus’s spa, she would never have this problem again. She only needed to first establish her reputation and build some rapport within the beautician community in town.

It was not long after she sat down when the mare at the next station over spoke with the lingering hint of a Prench accent. “Dinner with Princess Celestia?”

Rarity kept her head still but shifted her gaze to the side. In the adjacent seat, she found a lovely unicorn mare. Her pure white coat matched the highlights in her soft pink mane. “Fleur? Oh my, it’s been moons. I trust you’ve been taking good care of my creations.”

“Of course. A fine dress should be as treasured as any work of art. But the princess?”

Humming to give herself a bit of time, Rarity considered how much she should say. There would be no hiding Sweetie Belle’s presence or purpose at the castle when the time came, of course, but a determined pony could discover the full truth before then if she shared any version of it. Twilight likely wouldn’t want that, even if most of the ponies she interacted with in Ponyville already knew Index’s true identity. Princess Cadance was one thing. She was Twilight’s family, and so Rarity had thought nothing of it. Fleur, on the other hoof, had no relation.

“The circumstances are not my secret to tell, I’m afraid. Suffice it to say that Her Highness wishes to speak with me about something on which I can offer a unique perspective.”

“Ooh, intrigue! Ah, but this will drive me mad. Might I at least have a clue?”

Rarity knew the pain of a secret dangled just out of reach, but she held fast. “My lips are sealed.”

“How cruel you are!” Fleur cried in mock accusation.

“If it helps,” Rarity began, “it won’t remain secret for long. Once it’s announced, the news will spread faster than gossip.”

“Impossible!”

“Yet true.”

A few moments passed before both mares broke into laughter with a few added snickers from their stylists who had, up until that point, politely worked in silence while they spoke.

“We must catch up while you’re in town,” Fleur firmly stated. “I lack the time today and tomorrow, but perhaps we could meet at the garden party the day after?”

In all the excitement since Twilight had come to Ponyville, Rarity had entirely forgotten the Canterlot Garden Party had drawn near. After the Grand Galloping Gala, it was the premier event amongst high society. And she’d just received an implicit invitation!

Rarity breathed both deeply and silently to retain her poise. It wouldn’t do to react too strongly. “To be honest, I hadn’t planned to stay so long, but I should be able to rearrange my schedule.” If nothing else, she could organize for her new boutique to be cleaned from top to bottom and then painted tomorrow while she waited. “Yes, I do believe I can make time.”





The moment had at last arrived. Rarity gave her dress one last look over in the mirror and flattened a wrinkle. She should have just asked Rainbow Dash to fly to Ponyville and back to retrieve one of her own designs. Her mane looked fine, however, as did her tail. So assured, she stepped out through the door of her apartment and followed the servant who’d been sent to retrieve her.

The princess’s private dining room was more modest than Rarity had expected. Whoever had arranged it had obviously done so with taste and care, of course, but the overall atmosphere was – how would one put it politely? – rather homely. The portraits, photos, and awards on display clearly held personal significance over anything else. One only needed a quick survey to know that. One photo had an exasperated Princess Celestia pulling a young, nonplussed Twilight out of a gelatin monster. Another depicted Princess Cadance and Twilight, both less than half their current age, napping together, manes askew, with the former drooling all over the pillow and the latter with her face buried in a book. That was prime blackmail material on both of them.

While Rarity was sure there was a story behind everything present, some of which she might very well hear soon enough, Princess Celestia entered the room and drew her attention away. She only made it halfway into a bow before the princess waved the formalities away and then invited her to sit. The table contained the veritable feast necessary for a pony of Princess Celestia’s stature, all placed in stasis until served unless she was much mistaken. While the presentation was unexpected, it did all appear positively scrumptious.

“I apologize if you were expecting a formal, full-course dinner, but even in casual conversation, this table often overhears sensitive information I would prefer not to risk becoming rumor amongst the castle staff. Or worse.”

“Perfectly understandable, Your Highness,” Rarity replied. She’d not thought of that, but considering who and what they were likely to discuss, it made sense. This was far closer to what she was used to anyway.

Once they were seated and had acquired what they wished to eat first, Rarity with a few tips and suggestions from Princess Celestia, conversation naturally began to flow.

“Please tell me about yourself, Rarity. I know a little about your sister, but Twilight only briefly mentioned commissioning you to make a dress for her.”

“Oh, well, it’s a set of magical robes, actually.”

Princess Celestia rolled her eyes, clearly feeling that she should have known better.

“I work as a fashion designer and seamstress out of Ponyville. Or I did, rather, what with the upcoming move to Canterlot. Regardless, when Twilight and I were first getting to know one another, our conversation drifted to the gala. I mentioned a few of the ensembles I’ve put together for it over the years, and she recalled the wardrobe I created for Octavia Melody.”

“Those dresses are your work?” Rarity nodded and nearly squealed and fainted when Princess Celestia added, “Very impressive. If their order of production is the same as their order of first appearance, your skills have only grown. In a decade’s time, you might very well have reached the top of your industry.”

“I – oh my! Thank you for the compliment, Your Highness. I hope I can live up to your praise. Twilight has opened a whole new world to me. I never knew I could literally sew magic into my work. The possibilities! The spell designs are beyond me” – at least for the moment – “but Twilight kindly offered to help with any reasonable project.”

The surprise showed clearly on Princess Celestia’s face. “Really? I knew she had an interest in the field, but she already has so many other commitments. Where she finds the time is one of life’s greatest mysteries.”

“Well, she did say she would leave the sewing to me.” And however disappointing, for Rarity had quite enjoyed working with Twilight on their test project where their passions intersected, that might be for the best. She had no training in the art nor any apparent natural talent for design.

Princess Celestia emitted a considering hum before nodding. “Yes, that would do it.” She paused for a spoonful of soup before changing the subject. “Twilight told me she met your sister after saving her life but neglected to mention how.”

“She and her friends were helping a friend of mine, and things got a little out of hoof as they usually do when those fillies get together. They accidentally caused a stampede that passed through town. While they were helping to control its direction, she stumbled, and Twilight pulled her out before she could be trampled.”

After a few moments of bemused silence, Princess Celestia hesitantly asked, “Are such things normal for Ponyville? You sound…unshaken.”

“Oh yes. It’s on the lighter side of things, really. We had a cockatrice wander into town only a few days ago, and there was the parasprite infestation before that. The vampire fruit bats. The ursa minor.”

Princess Celestia nearly choked on her soup.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. Yes, just–” A brief application of magic cleared Princess Celestia’s throat. “My apologies. I never realized things were so bad. And Ponyville is so close to Canterlot.”

Rarity quickly absolved Princess Celestia of any blame. “Half of the incidents are our own fault. Besides, things usually resolve themselves on their own well enough.” In all honesty, she suspected some branch of the government was secretly operating in town to deal with the monster attacks and some of the village’s internal problems, but she’d never been able to determine exactly who was involved.

“I see…” After a few moments to mull over the information, Princess Celestia warily asked, “And how did you and Twilight meet?”

“Oh, nothing so dramatic,” Rarity said reassuringly. “I invited her to the spa to thank her for saving my sister.”

Princess Celestia’s eyes widened ever so slightly as though surprised Twilight had accepted. And when Rarity thought about it for a moment, she supposed in hindsight she was a bit surprised as well considering how busy Twilight usually kept herself.

“She enjoyed the experience, I believe, and we spoke of nothing for some time. Eventually, circumstances led her to accidentally reveal that she possesses regalia, and she ultimately revealed her identity to me when I pressed. We’ve spent some time together since, and I’ve much enjoyed her company. I realize her position keeps her busy, but I do hope she can set some more aside after the solstice for something even as simple as afternoon tea.”

Much to Rarity’s surprise, Princess Celestia brushed a tear from her eye.

“Oh, Princess, are you okay? Have I offended you or–”

Princess Celestia held up a hoof for silence. Then with a warm smile so much more genuine than her usual calm one, she said, “I never thought I would see Twilight making friends. Moon Dancer only has a tentative connection–”

Moon Dancer? It took a few moments for Rarity to recall the article in the newspaper about the mare nopony had ever heard of who’d stepped up to fill Twilight’s role in Equestria in her absence.

“–Sweetie Belle is yet only her student, and she sounded so unsure about Pinkie Pie. Please be patient with her after the solstice when she returns to her position. She has a lot of stress in her life, little time for herself, and often forgets that the world has more to offer than responsibilities and research.”

“Of course.” Being a workaholic herself at times, especially when her orders piled up, Rarity sympathized. She could barely imagine how consuming Twilight’s role in Equestria could be, and the added knowledge that the consequences, both good and ill, of her decisions could and often did ripple across the world would hardly ease the pressure. “But perhaps Princess Luna’s return will ease her burden. After some time to adjust to the modern era, of course.”

“Perhaps,” Princess Celestia allowed even if she gave no sign of believing it. “Speaking of little sisters, how is yours? Twilight has yet to ask me to help her, but my concerns remain. Generosity can be a heavy burden.”

Did that come from personal experience? It must, surely. Rarity only vaguely recalled Twilight mentioning getting her information from Princess Celestia, but Rarity did remember having that impression.

“At the risk of sounding… Hmm…” What word fit best? Careless? Neglectful? Neither were quite right. “Remiss, perhaps? Regardless, I’m somewhat glad Sweetie Belle bonded with Generosity before I could. As useful as telepathy is, the difficulty with crowds is something with which I would have no end of trouble. She only had it for a couple days before Twilight took her and the other bearers out of town, but she was practically drowning herself in a soothing tea Twilight recommended at the time.”

“The tea actually covers the taste of the potion involved,” Princess Celestia corrected. Naturally, she then added that it was a brew of her own design to help mitigate the negative effects of the Element. “But how curious. You could have borne Generosity?”

Rarity nodded. “Yes, we discovered that shortly after Twilight bonded Sweetie Belle with it. I would rather have taken the responsibility upon myself, but we make do with the cards life deals us. Twilight assures me she’ll be able to protect my sister should the worst come to pass, so…” She shrugged and took a sip from her drink. If the Archmage of Equestria couldn’t keep Sweetie Belle safe, she didn’t know who could.

“She’s said as much to me as well despite refusing to elaborate on the how. In my case, she made the claim about the entire world, but I have some confidence that encompasses your sister.”

Rarity smiled at the quip and fired one back. “Perhaps. My sister and her friends are such wandering bundles of chaos that I sometimes wonder. I don’t suppose Twilight mentioned the Crusaders to you?”

“Yes, actually. ‘Discord’s offspring’, I believe is the term she used.”

What more fitting description could there be? At Princess Celestia’s request, Rarity shared some of the Crusaders’ more memorable tales, most of which inevitably ended with them covered in tree sap regardless of what disasters followed in their wake. She asked in particular after the story behind their setting the lake on fire. That entire incident Ponyville tried to forget, but Rarity supposed it did a fine job exemplifying the Crusader’s knack for getting into trouble.

In exchange, Princess Celestia interwove her own stories of the antics Twilight got up to, both at the Crusaders’ age and as a grown mare. Rarity already knew about the more public ones, but she didn’t dismiss the opportunity for a firsthoof account. It wasn’t long before she wondered exactly what kind of influence Twilight would have upon her sister. Really, who used high-level magic to sneak past guards down to the kitchens for midnight snacks and a quick stop at the library?

Time passed in easy conversation as most of Rarity’s nervousness around the immortal ruler of Equestria faded into the background. If she were to be perfectly honest, it felt somewhat like talking to Applejack or Rainbow Dash. Although their circumstances differed, both intimately knew how tricky her relationship with Sweetie Belle could be. Neither entirely a mother nor entirely a sister, the nebulous role she filled at times left her adrift and uncertain of how to define its nature. She wondered what exactly Princess Celestia thought of her own relationship with Twilight, but Rarity didn’t inquire. It was too personal a question for a first meeting, she felt, but perhaps another time.

Once they began to run out of food and they’d swapped dozens of stories, Princess Celestia asked, “How have you found Canterlot during your stay?”

“Oh, I love it! And I arrived just in time. I intend to attend the theater tomorrow to catch The Phantom of the Opera, and Fleur de Lis invited me to attend the garden party the day after to catch up with one another.”

Rarity caught the spark of interest in Princess Celestia’s eye.

“I make a habit of knowing my clients to provide them with the attire best suited to them. Fleur has hired me to make several of her gala dresses, but until today, we’d not bumped into one another since I finished this year’s.”

With a hint of eagerness and a slight air of mystery, neither origin of which Rarity understood, Princess Celestia asked, “Do you have much business in Canterlot?”

Nodding, Rarity replied, “Quite a sizable fraction of my clientele lives here. When the gala approaches, it jumps to over half.”

“Mostly mares, I assume?”

“Yes. I’m known primarily for my dress designs, but I have some experience with male fashion.”

“Any names I might recognize?”

As none of her clients had ever asked for confidentiality outside of those looking for more intimate apparel that would never leave the bedroom, Rarity felt no hesitance in rattling off a list of names. Mostly she stuck to those mares who attended the gala and thus had a fair chance of encountering Princess Celestia while wearing the dress in question.

Princess Celestia had a thoughtful look about her. “I confess how well connected you are surprises me. Twilight has never, shall we say, meshed well with socialites.”

Thinking back to when they’d first met and the slight hostility which Rarity had politely ignored, she said, “Yes, I can imagine.”

“In truth, Twilight is largely isolated from that side of political life.

Now Rarity understood where Princess Celestia was going. “I could make a few introductions.” The difficult part would be deciding to who. As popular as she was with Equestria at large, Twilight possessed no love amongst the aristocracy. 

The princess, it seemed, had other ideas. “I would not strain my burgeoning friendship with her on a doomed effort were I in your position. Her isolation is blithely self-imposed. But if you wanted to act on her behalf amongst such circles…”

It took Rarity a few seconds to find her voice. “Your Highness, are you asking me to spy for her?”

“Not exactly.” The smile fell from Princess Celestia’s face as she locked eyes with Rarity. “I shall be direct. It behooves me to prepare for the worst. Piece by piece, I have largely passed responsibility for the executive arm of Equestria’s government over to Twilight. Its loyalty to her is eclipsed only by the devotion it shows me. If my sister takes my place, Twilight will in all but name become the ruling princess of Equestria. The responsibility will be that much more difficult for her if she has no loyal friend able to move within the aristocracy’s ranks.”

“Oh. I – oh my.” That was a lot to take in.

Princess Celestia rose to her hooves. “You are under no obligation, but please take some time to think about it.” Sparing one last glance at the table now nearly stripped bare, she snared the last slice of cake in her magic. “Thank you for your company this evening, Rarity. It was a pleasure to meet one of Twilight’s friends.”





The Canterlot Garden Party was everything Rarity had imagined it could be. All of the most important ponies in Equestria had gathered from across the country. They spoke of everything of import with nothing left out. They spread the word of new additions to families through births, weddings, and engagements. They spoke of upcoming legislation, changes in policy, and economics. The more intellectually inclined discussed new advances in science or engaged in philosophical debate. Many had an active interest in fashion, but all were dressed in the most fabulous outfits, a few of Rarity’s own design.

It was paradise, and Rarity couldn’t be happier. The sun shone down upon her, and fortune smiled. Oh, how life had changed ever since Twilight had rescued Sweetie Belle!

As they moved about the gathering together, Fleur introduced Rarity to most of the ponies they met, including her ‘we’re certainly not married’ husband, Fancy Pants. Rarity was aware of a running wager on when they would finally tie the knot, but they both preferred to remain officially unattached for now. Fleur was, after all, the Prench ambassador to Equestria. Marrying an Equestrian duke so deeply involved in the government would present a potential conflict of interest neither wished to deal with just yet. So long as they maintained the status quo, both governments were content to overlook any indiscretions.

So it was that Rarity and Fleur, accompanied by Fancy Pants, approached a conversation already in progress.

“–the price of Somnambulan cotton is going to skyrocket. If I were you, I would buy all you can before the summer heat rolls in and exacerbates the drought when the local weather ponies can’t keep up.”

“Were I in your place,” Fancy Pants led, “I’d not attempt to corner the market. Droughts come and go, and sometimes they end without warning.”

The pony who had been speaking, a monocle wearing stallion who Rarity recognized as the industrialist, Laissez Faire, paused to reflect upon Fancy Pants’s remark. “You’re suggesting the princess might involve herself?”

With a nod, Fancy Pants said, “These last few summers have been hotter than usual and the winters warmer. If somepony pointed that out to Princess Celestia, I’m sure she would resolve the matter.”

The other pony present Rarity recognized as Golden Fleece. She sometimes purchased raw materials from the mare’s company. “Hmm… You may be right. With careful timing, it would even be possible to deliver a crippling blow to the competition.”

“Only if the matter resolved itself within the year,” Laissez Faire said, “which seems unlikely. The princess doesn’t have the same sense of time as we do. If you sit idle for too long, you’ll have no income yourself.”

Rarity cleared her throat, and all attention was directed toward her. She only knew enough about economics to run her own business, but she could point out the obvious that all three seemed to be forgetting. “What if another sorceress took matters into her own hooves?”

“They would need to pay for the magic and would still need to raise their prices to recoup their losses.” Laissez Faire hummed thoughtfully as he mulled the idea over. “Perhaps not as drastically, however, depending on how heavily the drought until then impacted their crops.”

“True,” Rarity admitted, “but there is one sorceress who performs such public services for free.”

Fleur caught on first. “The archmage, you mean. She has been sighted all over Equestria. If she wanders so far south as Somnambula, you may be right. The duty would otherwise fall to her regent, no?”

The idea proved unpopular. “Her Excellency,” Golden Fleece began, although she managed to make the style sound like an insult, “is in seclusion in the Frozen North. Her substitute is some nopony her ego approves of.”

Rarity could certainly see how somepony could reach that conclusion without the knowledge she possessed. That massive, unexplained explosion in the Frozen North did make one suspicious, and Moon Dancer did bear a striking resemblance to Twilight. But she was in anything but seclusion, and Rarity couldn’t imagine her asking somepony unqualified to fill in for her during her absence.

However, before Rarity could properly form a counterargument, Laissez Faire snorted. “Twilight Sparkle is effective, without question. It’s the one good thing she has going for her. Her regent doesn’t even have that.”

Rarity opened her mouth to rebuke these cads for their unwarranted words, but then even Fancy Pants had a go against poor Moon Dancer. “I must say I was disappointed with her response to the Macintosh Hills incident. The damage to Strawberry Point could have been avoided entirely with a more timely and measured plan. She could have at least taken care of it herself instead of deploying those ruffians the archmage keeps in her service.”

That was hardly fair, surely. Moon Dancer was new to the job, and short of Princess Celestia herself, who possessed even half of Twilight’s ability? And what ‘ruffians’ was Fancy Pants speaking of? Not the Evening Guard, certainly!

“At least they’re not skulking about the castle,” Golden Fleece added. “Well, most of them.”

Fleur’s attention suddenly shifted to some far off point beyond the crowd. Leaning into Fancy Pants and speaking softly, although loud enough to be heard by all, she said, “Do excuse me, mon chéri, but I just spotted a new arrival who would love to meet Rarity.”

With a farewell nuzzle from Fancy Pants and a brief exchange of pleasantries between him and Rarity, Fleur pulled them away from the conversation back into the crowd. When it became clear that they were headed nowhere in particular except away, Rarity breathed out her relief to have made a graceful exit rather than unleashing a scathing castigation upon such uncouth behavior.

“The archmage? You are a fan?” Fleur asked with only curiosity in her voice.

“A friend.”

For a moment, Fleur paused in her stride. “Vraiment? Pardon, I did not believe she had friends.”

Rarity offered Fleur an understanding smile to show she’d taken no offense. From how Twilight had reacted to the offer of friendship she’d made a mere week ago, Fleur likely wasn’t far off from the truth. “I suspect she has more than even she believes, but I think I’m among the first to have her return the affection.”

“And how did you manage that?”

Rarity’s smile slipped into a mysterious smirk. “Fleur, darling, I do believe I told you my lips are sealed.” After the solstice, she could share what parts of the story weren’t classified. Until then, however, she had nothing to say.

“And you have grown no less cruel since, teasing a mare so. This answers one question but opens so many more. No wonder Princess Celestia wished to speak with you.”

Just for fun, Rarity said, “I can neither confirm nor deny the subject of our conversation was Twilight Sparkle.”

“Oh, you!” Fleur bumped Rarity with her shoulder as they walked. “Do forgive Fancy Pants for his words. He can be critical when those with power misstep. He may disagree with many of your friend’s methods and policies, but I assure you he has nothing but respect for her abilities, both magical and administrative.”

“Well, we all say things we don’t mean from time to time.”

Fleur thanked Rarity for her patience and consideration. “But it’s probably best not to discuss the archmage here. Fancy Pants’s opinion of her is… What’s the word…”

“An outlier?”

“Oui. Any mention of her is only likely to upset you.”

It was nothing Rarity hadn’t expected, but she still heaved a sigh. “And you?”

“Rarity, I’m Prench. I saw what she did to the griffons. She terrifies me.”

Rarity chuckled at Fleur’s blunt delivery. “Understandable.”

“For what it’s worth, on a personal level, I admire her dedication to her family.”

“Oh, yes. She’s so good with Sweetie Belle, and Celestia knows that filly can be difficult.” Rarity could only imagine Twilight was an equally wonderful mother and aunt despite all of the complications in her life.

Curious, Fleur asked, “Sweetie Belle? Your sister, no?” Rarity nodded, and she hummed as though she’d caught onto a secret, but when pressed, she said nothing. Instead, she asked, “Shall we retire for the evening? I feel we’ve hardly had time all afternoon to catch up.”

After considering the suggestion for a few seconds, Rarity agreed. That last conversation really had soured the party for her. She’d usually not let such boorish behavior get to her, but it brought Princess Celestia’s request back to the forefront of her mind. She needed some time to think.





Having bumped into Princess Cadance the next morning, Rarity mentioned the drought in Somnambula to her to pass the word on to whoever needed to know. Rarity received a thank you in return and a promise to speak with the archmage regent and those responsible for overseeing the weather in the very southernmost reaches of Equestria.

With that out of the way, Rarity spent the remainder of her day seeing to her own business’s needs. She’d managed to get the cleaning and painting scheduled the day before yesterday, but there were so many little things that still needed taking care of. She needed to advertise her move. She had to take measurements for when she went to decorate. She spent nearly an hour just filling out paperwork, nevermind how long she had to stand in line. She’d forgotten how much bureaucracy went into running a business.

So it was that Rarity walked into a cozy little pub just off the main streets of Canterlot after a long, tiring day. There were only a few other ponies present this early in the evening, and none of them particularly looked like they wished for company.

“What can I get you, Ma’am?”

“Oh, just something to take the edge off before I head home. Chardonneigh, if you have it.”

With a nod, the bartender retrieved a wineglass from beneath the counter and pulled the appropriate bottle from its shelf. He poured her a glass, and she tossed him back a gem with instructions to keep the change.

Hmm, not bad. Rarity took another sip of her wine and let it linger on her tongue. I’ve had better, but this is a little higher quality than I expected.

As she drank, Rarity surveyed the room. A unicorn held a cue in his magic as he practiced his billiards game. A pegasus sat at the public piano trailing out a slow, sad song that struck straight at the heart. In a corner, a unicorn mare with a loose braid sat hunched over with her head on her table and her tail held between her hooves, a near empty mug of cider nearby. On the other side of the room–

Rarity’s eyes snapped back to the mare in the corner. Is that… It is. Without hesitation, she rose to her hooves and found her way to the mare’s table. “Is this seat taken?”

It took a few seconds for Rarity to get a response. It came as a moan at first, but then the mare picked her head up off the table enough to get a look at her company. If there’d been any doubt before, there was none now. “Rarity?”

“Hello, Index.”

A panicked look settled onto Twilight’s face. “I – what are you – I’m – oh, forget it,” she stammered out in a drunken slur. “What does it matter anymore?” Resigned, she downed the last of her drink and called for another.

Rarity watched with a worried eye as the bartender fulfilled the request and Twilight immediately guzzled down a quarter of its contents. She held her tongue, however, as something was obviously wrong. “How is the cider?” It was a light question to test the waters.

“Horrid. I don’t know why anypony likes this swill.”

Oh dear. Judging by the wine, the cider was likely just as good. Growing up in the castle had likely given Twilight a discerning palate, but Rarity suspected something more worrying. “Is this your first time drinking?”

As expected, Twilight replied, “Yeah. Promised Celestia we’d get drunk and do something stupid when we beat the evil out of her sister. Figured now was as good a time as any to see how I tolerate alcohol.” She took another large gulp of her cider and for a moment looked about to expel the entire contents of her stomach. It passed, but she still carried a miserable air about her. “Ugh… Not well, it turns out.”

“Darling, perhaps you’ve had enough for tonight?”

“Probably.” But the admission didn’t stop her from reaching for her cider. Twilight paused when the mug reached her lips, and then out of nowhere, she asked, “Am I fun?”

Rarity cocked her head to the side, trying to understand where the question had come from. Before she could formulate an answer, however, Twilight continued on with wherever her impaired thoughts were taking her.

“Luna’s a fun drunk. Celestia probably is too.”

Rarity took in the sagging shoulders, the bloodshot eyes, and the matted hairs of Twilight’s coat which probably came from tears rather than stray cider. She couldn’t find it in herself to lie convincingly. Perhaps in better circumstances, but right now, Twilight Sparkle was not a ‘fun drunk’.

“Right,” Twilight said sullenly. “Another thing I got wrong.” She went for another drink, but Rarity pinned the mug to the table with her magic, and there it stayed. To her mild surprise, Twilight didn’t even try using her own magic and merely accepted defeat.

This was even worse than Rarity had thought. She rose from her seat and moved over to sit beside Twilight, where she pulled the poor mare into a comforting hug. Although neither said anything, Twilight leaned into the affection.

When Rarity released Twilight, she asked, “Is Sweetie Belle behaving?”

Twilight nodded wordlessly.

“Good. She can be a challenge at times. Is she doing well?”

This time Twilight bit her lip and averted her eyes. “Physically. But she’s blaming herself for something I told her wasn’t her fault and then explained in detail why it wasn’t.” She went for her cider again, but this time Rarity pulled it out of arm’s reach.

“What happened?” Rarity carefully kept her voice gentle and not in any way accusing.

The mere question broke Twilight. Tears formed in her eyes as she said, “I’m a failure is what happened!”

And ponies call me a drama queen! “There are many words to describe you, darling, not all of them good, but ‘failure’ is not one of them.”

“But I am!” Twilight insisted. “This was the one thing I was supposed to get right when Celestia took me on as a student, and I screwed everything up. I’m such a miserable failure that she gave up on me years before I even tried.”

So this was about the Elements, then. Rarity had suspected, but that little confession all but confirmed it. Thinking back on the conversation she’d had with the princess, never mind the final request made of her, she said, “Dear Twilight, I assure you, Princess Celestia cares for you far beyond your ability to, eh, ‘beat the evil out of her sister’.”

“Yeah, I know,” Twilight muttered. “Doesn’t change the facts.”

“Neither does drinking yourself into a stupor.” This time Rarity added a bit of reprimand into her voice, and Twilight flinched. They would likely be unneeded words when Twilight sobered, but seeing that they’d gotten through, her expression softened. “Will you tell me what really happened? A burden shared is a burden halved.”

Twilight mulled it over and dithered before she finally heaved a long sigh and met Rarity’s eye again. “You know the Great and Powerful Trixie? Turns out she’s Luna’s protégé.”

“I… What?” That didn’t make any sense. As far as Rarity knew, Trixie was a normal unicorn no older than herself. “How is that possible?”

It took a few seconds before Twilight’s confusion melted into understanding. “Oh, I only told Sweetie Belle the whole story. Right. So keep this to yourself, but…”

Twilight spun her story from discovering a storybook reference to Nightmare Moon by supposed chance all the way up to the fallout of her disastrous duel with Trixie. There were a few mistakes which she lingered over far longer than Rarity thought was warranted to berate herself, but for a mare stepping so far outside her comfort zone, Rarity felt it was largely a success story. If she could come so far in barely more than a moon, she could finish her mission in the remainder of the second one left to her.

“–and that’s why Trixie is off crying and sulking in Ponyville, Lyra is scared of both of us, and Sweetie Belle is depressed. Oh, and while I’m too drunk to deny it, that’s also how Luna has become one of my closest friends. Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“Hardly. A little unorthodox, perhaps, but tell me honestly how many true peers you feel you have.”

Twilight listed off, “Uh, Celestia, Luna, Sunset, maybe Trixie and Pinkie Pie. Moon Dancer and Lyra somewhat. And, um… Oh! Chrysalis!”

“Who?”

“She’s the queen of the changelings.”

Rarity blinked, and Twilight blinked back. She had no idea what a changeling was, and she suspected she wasn’t supposed to. So sidestepping that issue entirely, she concluded, “Is it any wonder then that you find Princess Luna so engaging and interesting?” That Twilight was actively trying to befriend one sister to save the other only made it more reasonable and likely a proposition.

“I…suppose not,” Twilight admitted.

That was one problem if not resolved then at least out of the way for now. “I will speak to Sweetie Belle tomorrow, and I’m sure Bon Bon will help Lyra.” True love conquered all, did it not? “Trixie will be more complicated, but I’m sure with everypony working together, we can bring her around.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Darling, have faith in yourself. For a mare who had no friends outside of her family only a moon ago, you’ve come a long way.”

Twilight opened her mouth, but no words came out. She drew inward, a thoughtful look growing on her face. Then, in time, she said, “You really mean that?”

“Of course.”

A strange look settled onto Twilight’s face, one which she directed at Rarity. It only became more odd as the seconds passed. Then a decisive gleam entered into her eyes. On any other pony, Rarity would swear they were about to–

Oh my.

It was dreadfully inexperienced, wet, and Twilight’s breath reeked of alcohol, but it was certainly a kiss. Once the surprise died down, Rarity pushed Twilight away with a gentle hoof. She knew better than to take any meaning from a drunken kiss, especially from somepony who had no prior experience with alcohol or, most likely, the affairs of the heart.

“Twilight, dear, it’s not that I’m not flattered–”

“No, it’s fine. I didn’t really…” Words failing her, Twilight tried again. “It felt like the thing to do. Thought it’d be worth a try, but…meh. Never really had any interest. In anypony, not you specifically. I’m sure you’re worth the emotional upkeep for snuggles and companionship, and I’m just making this worse. Ugh… Sorry. I’m too drunk for this conversation. And sorry for not asking first.”

Rarity tittered as Twilight’s rambling apology came to a close. “Apology accepted.” Even if a little liquid courage had been involved, it was good she’d at least tried to step outside her comfort zone again. There was much work left for her to finish with the Elements and their bearers. After hearing her story, Rarity had been a bit worried she’d withdraw into herself and not come back out before it was too late.

“If it’s of any consolation, you can tell all your friends you were the archmage’s first kiss.”

Unable to resist teasing, Rarity replied, “Yes, I could tell.”

Twilight snorted, indignant, but couldn’t hide the smile poking at the corners of her lips.

“We should get you back to the castle for the night.”

“Psh. I’ll be fine the moment I undo my polymorph. Poof. No more alcohol.”

Now that Twilight mentioned it, that did line up with what she’d told Rarity about the spell. There was one complicating factor to consider, however. “Can you do that safely in your state?”

Twilight hesitated a moment that Rarity didn’t miss. “Of course I can. If Trixie can cast complex spells while four sheets to the wind, so can I.” She lit her horn but cried out in protest a moment later when Rarity flicked it with her own magic to dispel the building power.

“If it’s so important, we can do so in private with somepony qualified and sober casting the spell. You have nothing to prove.”

Although she huffed, Twilight acquiesced. “I’ll sleep it off.” Clearly, somepony was embarrassed to be caught drinking. “Can I at least finish my cider?”

“No.”

“But I paid for it!” Rarity never thought she’d hear the Archmage of Equestria whine, but here they were.

“Darling, you have the entire treasury behind you. I think you can afford to waste a little drink you don’t even want.”

In a show of solidarity, Rarity pushed away what remained of her wine and rose to her hooves. She then helped Twilight up to hers, which went as poorly as expected. She could barely keep her balance, and walking without support was a nonstarter. As they had no other option, Rarity pulled Twilight’s arm up over her shoulders with some magical assistance. Seven legs proved to be the precise number Twilight needed to move about.

Once they were out on the streets of Canterlot, the sun having long set on them, Twilight said, “Hey, Rarity?”

“Yes, Twilight?”

“You’re a good friend.”

That drew a warm smile out of Rarity. It was always nice to feel appreciated.

“Remind me to give you an old book in the morning. I think you’ll like it.”

Rarity promised to make a note of it before she went to bed.





Rarity knocked on the door to the bedroom Twilight shared with Spike and Sweetie Belle. The former two were off with the other bearers, leaving her alone to speak with her sister.

The door opened to reveal Sweetie Belle standing just behind it. Although whatever surprise she’d experienced had long since faded thanks to Generosity’s early warning, she still had a bemused look about her. “Rarity? What are you doing here?”

Rarity blinked and then tore her eyes away from Generosity. “Oh, Twilight and I ran into each other in Canterlot. She really needed somepony to talk to, and I thought perhaps you might as well.”

A moment passed in silence. Then Sweetie Belle stepped aside and left the door wide open.

Rarity took the invitation for what it was and entered. As she expected for what was essentially a glorified camping trip, there wasn’t much inside: three clouds repurposed into beds, a foal-sized desk, a few books, some odds and ends, and everything a young filly needed to take notes. Even when things were at their most dark, there would always be homework.

Eying Twilight’s bed as having the most real estate to work with, Rarity cautiously approached it and poked it with a hoof. While hers went right through, Sweetie Belle climbed up onto it without hesitation, digging her hooves into the cloud and then finally throwing herself atop the covers. “The sheets are bespelled,” she said when she saw Rarity’s reluctance to follow.

The Crusaders had thankfully never acquired Rainbow Dash’s penchant for pranks, so Rarity slid onto the bed with only an appropriately mild level of caution. When it remained firm yet softer than fresh snow, she melted into it with a pleased moan. “Oh, I simply must have one of these.”

In a moment of marvelous inspiration, Sweetie Belle suggested, “You could sew a cloudwalking spell into a sheet.”

“My beloved Sweetie Belle, if I could feel my anything right now, I would hug you.” On her way out, Rarity would have to ask Twilight for the spell diagram. Now that she knew such luxury, how could she ever get her beauty sleep with anything less?

Moreover, if the magic wasn’t too time-consuming to turn into an artifact, Rarity could make a fortune just selling luxury bedclothes! She’d be able to pick and choose her clients entirely as she pleased to devote more time to becoming an artificer. She imagined all of the good she could do with a heavy purse added to all the other changes in her life.

And with such wealth, it would be that much easier to help her shadow princess rule Equestria should Princess Luna triumph.

“Rarity?”

At Sweetie Belle’s call, Rarity stirred from her musings. “My apologies. I got lost in thought. Now then, Twilight told me what happened from her perspective. Why don’t you tell me yours.”

She started slowly, but then the whole story came tumbling out from Sweetie Belle without filter. “I wanted to help Trixie and Archmage Twilight sort out their differences so they could be friends. When Apple Bloom and Scootaloo fight, I always step in and help them make peace. Trixie… She’s complicated. More than I thought. I’m still not sure I entirely understand her, even knowing that I don’t know her whole story. I managed to get her talking, and she was in a good mood. She, uh, likes attention.”

Rarity rolled her eyes. “You don’t say.” Anypony who’d been within a league of the Great and Powerful Trixie for any length of time would know that.

“Right, well, then Archmage Twilight came to fetch me for dinner. She was polite, and I fed Trixie’s ego to keep her…not happy, but not hostile. Everything was going well, and then I broached the subject of their relationship. I… Archmage Twilight told me it wasn’t the right time for it, but I thought I knew better, so I pressed, and then she told me about Trixie, and I got scared, and that set Trixie off, which made them fight, and now Lyra’s scared, Trixie left, Archmage Twilight doesn’t want to teach me anymore, and it’s all my fault!”

With that all coming out at once, Rarity pulled her now sobbing sister into her arms. She gently stroked Sweetie Belle’s mane as she processed everything she’d heard. Mentor and protégé, it seemed, were perhaps a little too well matched in their sense of responsibility. This mess wasn’t Sweetie Belle’s fault anymore than Twilight was a failure.

Well, might as well tackle what she’ll consider the most important one first. “Sweetie Belle, there are some things that we adults only talk about with each other. She may tell you this when you’re older and less likely to laugh at her, but Twilight wants to teach you so much that she’s been creating lesson plans in her dreams.”

Wet laughter emanated from Rarity’s soggy chest. Sweetie Belle sniffed and pulled her head back enough to look up at Rarity’s face. “Really?”

“Really.” If perhaps that had been in Twilight’s dreamscape, Sweetie Belle didn’t need to know. “Even having delegated most of her responsibilities until the solstice, she’s been” – the vivid memory of holding Twilight’s mane back as she vomited surfaced uninvited – “busy.” Rarity did also recall her mentioning undertaking the rather more morbid task of setting up some unspecified failsafe in case Princess Luna killed her. “You just have to be patient. This is new to both of you; it will take some time to adjust.”

Sweetie Belle, after thinking about it for a few seconds, said, “Okay,” and actually sounded like she believed it to some extent. Rarity would call that progress. Then surprisingly, she said, “She did say I’d need self-motivation studying under her. And that this would be different than school.”

That did line up with what Rarity knew of Twilight’s poorly documented education under Princess Celestia, and she told Sweetie Belle that and then explained what little she knew from snippets of gossip, the news, credible soources, and the few things Twilight herself had said. Sweetie Belle patiently listened to every word, and Rarity thanked Celestia for perhaps the thousandth time that her sister was the quiet, reflective type.

“So you see, Twilight is here to guide your studies. She certainly has several important lessons she wants to pass on to you. She can introduce you to new ideas and possibilities. She can even give you direction. But at the end of the day, you will only get out what you yourself put in.”

After a few moment’s thought, Sweetie Belle said, “A hundred time zero is still zero,” with a little nod to herself.

Seeing that the point had been made, Rarity set that topic aside. Sweetie Belle had for years demonstrated a consistent and sufficient level of self-motivation when it came to magic to make this odd arrangement work. She and Twilight would figure out the rest together until they found their own rhythm, Rarity was sure. And if they didn’t, Twilight had promised to provide a more structured learning environment. All would be well.

“Now then,” Rarity began, “I do believe there was another matter troubling you.”

Sweetie Belle flinched.

“Surely you must know Trixie’s, shall we say, outburst was inevitable.”

“I guess…”

Nopony would accept that as a proper answer. “But…”

“It didn’t have to be this bad. I should have waited to act. I should have heard all of the facts first. I should have taken the time to digest them. I shouldn’t have reacted so badly. I–” Sweetie Belle’s voice finally cracked as she batted away tears with a fetlock. “I-I shouldn’t have stolen Generosity. From you.”

Rarity heaved a silent sigh. The downside of having an introspective little sister, despite how much easier it made life, came when she thought too deeply about things. “You did no such thing. In fact, Twilight told me she made the final decision to bond it to you.”

With the widening of Sweetie Belle’s eyes, Rarity noted that Twilight had neglected to tell her that. Not that it came as a surprise. It was a very minor detail to overlook when there were so many other larger events to dwell upon. But that knowledge alone banished the dark cloud hanging over her as the guilt she so obviously carried lifted. For the greater part, at least.

“Even if you had,” Rarity pressed on while Sweetie Belle remained receptive to her message, “Generosity is a responsibility, not some great prize. Put this worry from your mind. Twilight and I are friends without it, as you would still be her student should it have come to me instead.”

“But Trixie–”

Rarity denied Sweetie Belle’s self-condemnation any chance to regain steam and spoke over her. “–is not your fault. You acted as a wonderful, kind, caring young lady should. You’re not to blame for Trixie’s boorish behavior.”

“But – but if I hadn’t meddled–”

“–then you would be going through this next week far too close to the solstice for comfort. You six have time to amend fences.”

“That’s…probably true,” Sweetie Belle admitted. “But that’s not how responsibility works.” That came off almost as a question. “Index, er, Archmage Twilight said it was her fault I stole Generosity from her. She said that when you’re walking the path of magic, you have to take responsibility for the consequences of your actions.”

Rarity heaved an exasperated sigh and made no secret of it this time. She pushed a little magic into her horn to massage her temples. While she knew little about magic and assumed whatever exact wording Twilight had used was correct and important, she strongly suspected Twilight had long forgotten what it was like to be a foal.

“Sweetie Belle, darling, this is a very complicated subject. Twilight is one of history’s greatest mages and one step removed from a princess. What’s true for her isn’t true for you. In time, perhaps, but right now, you’re responsible for nopony’s actions but your own. Okay?”

It came hesitantly, but Sweetie Belle nodded and said, “Okay.”

“Marvelous. Now let’s get a good look at you.” Rarity shifted back and used her hooves to inspecte her little sister’s face. “Oh, darling, you look awful!”

Sweetie Belle’s, “Gee, thanks,” went ignored.

“Let me take care of that for you. Hold still a moment. A lady must look her best.”

Rarity ran her magic over Sweetie Belle, cleaning her face of any mucus and removing the lingering traces of her tears. The bloodshot eyes were already returning to normal, so Rarity left them alone. Lastly, she summoned a tissue from the desk and instructed her sister to blow her nose.

When she finished all that, Rarity leaned back satisfied. “There. You need a good bath to truly fix your mane and bring your coat to a shine, but this” – though it killed her to say so of anything less than perfection – “shall do for now.”

Sweetie Belle didn’t offer her thanks, but she did smile just a little.

“Will you be okay here if I leave for home or would you like me to stay for the day?”

With a shake of her head, Sweetie Belle told Rarity she’d be fine on her own, so they made their way together back to the entrance hall. She tried to lead them down the wrong corridor once or twice, but Rarity kept them on the right path.

“How do you know your way around so well?” Sweetie Belle asked with a bit of a whine in her voice.

Rarity smirked and replied, “Darling, this is hardly my first time going spelunking.” The pout she got in return only made her laugh. Maybe someday she would teach Sweetie Belle her secrets.

Soon enough, the pair bumped into Twilight just outside the corridor leading to the test chambers and the teleport back to Ponyville. She offered to take Rarity back home herself, but it seemed an awful waste when there was a more convenient option waiting only a short walk away.

Rarity did, however, ask after and receive the spell diagram she’d have to decipher to stitch a cloudwalking enchantment into fabric. Regardless of whether she made a business of it, she must have one for herself. It also felt like an appropriate step up from the simple toy projects she’d worked on together with Twilight.

After bidding goodbye to her sister, Rarity left Sweetie Belle in Twilight’s capable hooves. She accepted the offer of a teleport straight to the test chambers rather than having to walk all the way there herself, and then she was back in Ponyville in the middle of Pinkie Pie’s room. She could get used to being able to move about Equestria so quickly, even if she felt a little nauseous for a few moments. It almost made her want to undergo the grueling grind necessary to build up the prerequisite magical stamina herself. Almost.

There was much to do, but Rarity decided to stop by Fluttershy’s cottage for a quick chat to catch up with one another first. She might even run into Rainbow Dash there as well. If not, who knew where that mare would be off to.

Not long after leaving Sugarcube Corner and a very confused Cake couple behind, a very unexpected voice called out, “Rarity!”

Rarity froze midstep. It couldn’t be. She turned woodenly in place to find that it was. “Mother. Father.” This was the last thing she needed right now with so much else she needed to do and think about.

Heedless to her distress, Hondo Flanks and Cookie Crumbles, her parents, approached. Her father was wearing that ratty sombrero of his and some tasteless shirt that had seen far too many years of use. Her mother was marginally better, but her fashion sense remained, as ever, thirty years out of date and not nearly ‘delightfully retro’ as Rarity strained herself to call it.

“Oh, Rarity, thank Celestia. With all the chaos of the festival, we were beginning to think we’d come home to the wrong place.”

Hondo Flanks nodded his agreement. “We hardly recognized Ponyville when we first arrived. Your friend, Fluttershy, told us you were in Canterlot, but she didn’t know when you’d be back.”

“Ah, yes, well, I just arrived, actually.” Rarity dreaded to ask, but she had to. “Did she mention why I was there?”

“Something about meeting with the princess for the festival,” Cookie Crumbles said, although she sounded a bit unsure.

Rarity sent her silent thanks out to Fluttershy with the promise of an all day spa trip in the future for letting her break the news in her own time. If at all possible, she wanted Twilight at her side when that happened lest it merely devolve into another argument.

“Speaking of which, did Sweetie Belle go with you? We haven’t seen her.”

“No, she’s off camping with a friend.” It wasn’t not the truth, and Rarity figured it would buy her enough time to bump into Twilight again. She’d just leave a note with Amethyst to give to Index. Twilight was still the Summer Sun Celebration’s overseer, after all. She’d have to come back at regular intervals for at least a check-in.

Meanwhile, however, Rarity needed to keep her parents distracted.





The end of the day came as a relief when Rarity finally managed to return home to her boutique. She habitually turned the sign from closed to open, realized her mistake, corrected it, and then finally removed the note saying she’d be out of town for a few days. She’d need to remember to make a new one as soon as her parents were sorted out to direct customers to her new address in Canterlot.

Rarity climbed the stairs up to her private residence. At the top, she eyed what luggage Twilight had brought back for her from her castle apartment. Did she really want to unpack right now? No. Certainly not. She was too tired for that. All she really wanted to do was curl up in bed with a good book, so that was precisely what she did.

A deep sigh escaped Rarity when she slipped under the covers of her regular spring bed. She’d experienced perfection, and now she had to suffer such primitive accommodations. “No wonder Rainbow Dash spends so much time napping on stray clouds.”

Without any other choice, however, Rarity resigned herself to the inevitable. She levitated the book Twilight had given her over from her nightstand, read the title and author with some surprise, and then finally cracked open Entering the Dream Realm.
> Chapter Eighteen - Picking Up the Pieces
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

If she could, she would have facehoofed. Had she really made the magically equivalent mistake of not washing her hooves and instruments before surgery? Probably.





Trixie started awake when someone knocked on her wagon door. Beside her, Niian rested undisturbed on its wall mount, and a quick check of her wards told her she didn’t need to worry about an assassination attempt nor being dragged back to Twilight Sparkle’s doomed from the outset friendship retreat. She’d honestly expected somepony to come for her days ago, but if the powers that be wished to waste their time, it was no skin off her back.

Then again, what if they already had another bearer for her Element and were just waiting to lull Trixie into a false sense of security? Hadn’t the pink one said she could wield Laughter? She could try to run, but Trixie doubted she could get away. A competent team was watching her. She knew so because she’d not been able to even identify the spies. The moment she tried to leave, she’d have Twilight–

A click came from the door, the sound of a lock shifting. Trixie shot up in bed abruptly alert and grasped Niian with her magic. It shouldn’t be possible for somepony to break into her wagon without demolishing it outright. Nonetheless, an impatient unicorn kicked the door open still very much on its hinges. She was polymorphed, so Trixie paid no attention to her appearance and frowned when she didn’t recognize the feel of the mare’s magic.

“Who in Tartarus are you?”

“I’m the other side of the coin,” the unknown mare replied. “Now get your plot out of bed and make yourself presentable. We need to talk.”

Before Trixie could protest, the mare left and slammed the door behind her.

“Well,” Trixie said in a huff. She rolled back into a cocoon of blankets with every intent to slip off back to the only refuge left to her in the world.

“Fatal Error: increased mane tangles. Restart ablutions.”

As it so justly deserved, Trixie tossed Niian out of her bed onto the floor. Why did she put up with that menace?





Still slightly damp from her shower, in which Lyra had somewhat understandably declined to join her, Sweetie Drops made her way back into the bedroom she shared with her marefriend. Through the corridors came the soft sound of Lyra’s voice raised in a ballad of loss and loneliness with only the slow, solitary notes of her lyre to accompany it. Intertwined were haunting silences where another’s song should fill the void.

Sweetie Drops followed the music, letting it draw her closer as magic pulled at her to join in but not yet. She wished she could, but not yet. She wanted to hold Lyra and assure her she was not alone, but not yet.

At last, the opportunity arose. In a silence, Sweetie Drops moved into their bedroom to join the duet. Her lyrics were those of comfort and hope, and Lyra brightened immediately. The song swelled. Lyra rose from their bed. They circled one another in a dance as old as it felt new. Then came the climax, and the last note hung in the air.

Lyra snaked an arm around Sweetie Drops’s neck. With a light pull and some remarkable flexibility, she pulled them back onto their bed with Sweetie Drops atop her.

An eternity passed in an instant.

“I just showered,” Sweetie Drops protested teasingly.

“Magic solves all problems,” Lyra retorted.

Sweetie Drops rolled her eyes. She was living with far too many sorceresses. “I didn’t know you could sing heartsongs.”

“Ah…” That killed the mood faster and more thoroughly than Sweetie Drops had intended. Lyra offered her a wan smile. “The entire pony taxonomy, not just the three Equestrian tribes, is the most…affected.”

Eyebrows raised, Sweetie Drops said, “Not the word you were going to use.” No matter how musically inclined one was, most sorceresses tended to dislike getting caught up in heartsongs because it meant giving up control, which, as she understood it, was a major requirement of casting spells safely.

“Shush. Of course it was.” Lyra swatted Honesty about her neck, which only proved it wasn’t. “Most sapient species can join heartsongs. I even once saw a griffon get pulled into one with a sphinx.”

“What? How did that happen?”

Lyra shrugged. “They wouldn’t tell me the story afterward, which is a real shame. Those are two of the least susceptible species, and they rarely interact. I’m sure there had to be lots of wacky hijinks involved.”

That sounded like it would make a good premise for a movie. “Where did this happen?”

“The middle of the desert at the heart of the dragon lands, if you can believe it.”

The story only grew more curious. Never mind the sphinx and the griffon’s presence there, Sweetie Drops asked, “What on Equus were you doing there?” Beyond the dragons’ isolationism, the hottest, driest, most brutal desert in the world was no place for an amphibious being.

“Ah, well, I’d just left home, and I figured it’d be the ideal place to hide for a while. Would not recommend.”

Sweetie Drops snorted. Anypony with legs would have known that. She rolled off of Lyra but snuggled into her side. “How many places did you go to before Canterlot?”

Whatever reluctance Lyra had to answer faded quickly. “I wandered up the eastern continents. I, uh, well, fled the dragon lands in the wrong direction into Zebrica and managed to make my way up into Saddle Arabia. I caught the train across the Grover Strait into the Griffon Kingdom and hightailed it to Prance. Then I took the Northern Pass into Equestria. At that point, I hopped onto the train in Rainbow Falls and headed for the most inland city I could find.”

“Did you at least enjoy the sights along the way?”

Lyra stopped to consider that for a short while, idly listing the things she’d either seen or should have had she known of them. Most of the places she’d passed through hadn’t merited more than a glance or an interested stare from afar at the time, it seemed, but a few she eventually elaborated upon in not inconsiderable detail. From the sound of it, she’d spent most of her down time in Prance and had developed a thing for art galleries while there.

Sweetie Drops tucked that bit of new information away for later in case she ever needed to butter Lyra up for something.

“Where did you learn to play the lyre?” Lyra had mentioned it before, but the timing didn’t add up, and Sweetie Drops doubted stringed instruments worked well underwater.

“Ah, that’s kind of a long story. Promise not to make fun of me?”

Grinning, knowing Honesty would catch any other answer, Sweetie Drops said, “Absolutely not.”

Lyra turned her head toward Sweetie Drops and pouted.

“Nope. Not working. Tell me.”

Although she sighed, Lyra relented. “Fine. After the first time I went up on dry land, I started…collecting things.”

“Oh Celestia, you’re the little seapony!” She tried. She really did. But Sweetie Drops laughed.

“Yes, yes. Very amusing,” Lyra said dryly. “I found an enchanted lyre – my lyre – about…uh… We don’t have seasons, so we measure time differently.” She performed some quick mental math. “Roughly three seasons later, give or take a few weeks, I found my lyre.”

Sweetie Drops just had to know. “Where?”

“I’d never seen–”

“It was in a sunken ship, wasn’t it?”

Lyra, to her credit, said, “No,” with an almost believable face, but the subsequent glare at Honesty exposed her.

Laughing, between attempts to catch a breath, Sweetie Drops asked, “Did they base that movie off of you?”

“Unless you’ve been hiding something from me between your legs, definitely not.”

“Well, your spell wore off last ni – eek!”

Lyra pounced, relentless in her assault, with expert hooves that sought out those places she usually avoided. Sweetie Drops squirmed in a giggle fit, barely given enough reprieve to breathe between bouts of tickling. “I give, I give, I give!”

Victorious, and very smug in her triumph, Lyra smirked down from above and claimed a kiss as a prize. “Do you want to hear the rest of the story?”

Sweetie Drops nodded. She’d had her fun, and it was good for Lyra to have something to laugh about in her past. Every day she spent laughing, venting, crying, or just talking, Sweetie Drops could see her heal just a bit more. It might not have come about in the best way, but she’d desperately needed somepony who would just listen without dismissing her problems. The next time she went in for a psych evaluation, Sweetie Drops promised herself to bring Lyra with her.

Once more side by side, although now snuggled in each other’s legs, Lyra continued on with her story. “For the longest time, Aquestria had to import most instruments you’re familiar with. Being underwater doesn’t exactly do you any favors for manufacturing.”

“I’d imagine. What changed?”

Lyra smirked. “Magic.”

Of course. Sweetie Drops didn’t know what she should have expected.

“Seaponies all have horns, every last one of us. When you lot started digging up this weird, flimsy material that falls apart in water and learning stuff from before Discord, the knowledge eventually filtered its way down below. Aquestria really boomed when we got the water repelling enchantment. Before then–”

Sweetie Drops kissed Lyra to interrupt her. As interesting as the development of a submerged society was to contemplate, they were getting off topic. “Your lyre?”

“Ah. Right. Yes. So by the time it became practical to use instruments like yours, we’d already developed our own musical traditions. Shoo-bee-doo, and all that. I’d never seen a lyre before, and it got my attention. It didn’t take too long to figure out the basics, and I ended up using it to relax after fighting whichever abyssal horror of the day decided to try to claw its way out of the deepest, darkest trench in the Sparkling Sea.”

Going down that route wouldn’t do much good right now, so Sweetie Drops quickly moved them along. “You taught yourself?”

Lyra started out of wherever her thoughts had been taking her. “Huh? Oh. Yeah, for a while. I was the master of waters. Plucking some strings in rhythm isn’t hard when I’m not trying to use my hooves. Composition, though? That’s another story entirely. I didn’t learn much music theory until I made it to Prance and bought a few books on the subject.”

“Hmm…” Propping herself up a bit to better see, Sweetie Drops’s gaze swept past far more tempting parts of Lyra to land on something she’d been wondering about. “Do seaponies get cutie marks?” She probably should have looked that up at some point, but one simply didn’t ask a pony if their cutie mark was fake. That was about as rude and tactless as one could get. In this instance, however, she smirked and asked, “If so, how long were you a blank flank?”

Lyra laughed and took it in the good humor with which it’d been meant. “No, that’s exclusively an Equestrian pony thing as far as I know. Seaponies split from our common ancestor before your magic developed that odd quirk.” More seriously, she added, “Mine likely isn’t what I would have gotten naturally, but it’s what I chose for myself. I left my old life behind and set out on a new one. With you.”

“Oh, you.” Sweetie Drops shifted closer until their noses bumped together. “You say the sweetest things sometimes.”

That put a wide grin on Lyra’s face. “I try,” she said before moving in for a quick peck. “What about you? How did you get into monster hunting? Nothing tragic, I hope.”

“No, no. Actually, there are regulations about those sorts of hires now.” Sweetie Drops lowered her voice to a whisper. “You know who is making me actually read the entire book as punishment for how I dealt with you.”

For the first time since the big fight, Lyra didn’t flinch when somepony mentioned Twilight. “Serves you right,” she said. “Do I look like a vicious, savage monster to you?”

“Well…” Sweetie Drops began with a considering air. “You did hold me down and have your way with me last night. I’m quite sure you bit me several times as well.”

“Yes, and you spent years training me to do so.”

Sweetie Drops flushed first and admitted defeat. “Yeah, I did. But I was serious, you know. Twilight added all sorts of ridiculous rules and regulations. There’s a section on encountering somepony claiming to be you. One on how to establish relations with a new sapient species discovered living amongst us. Another on – well, hmm… That last one actually happened.”

Lyra made no attempt to hide her obvious amusement. “Changelings, right? And then there’s the Pinkie Sense, so time travel must be a thing somehow.” Now smirking, she added a hint of singsong to her voice. “Maybe sorceresses know what they’re on about?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Sweetie Drops admitted despite knowing more or less what would come next.

“In fact,” Lyra said, “did you know that no harm can come to me from eating nothing but your delicious confectioneries every day? Why, technically, I don’t even need to eat!”

Sweetie Drops offered up a saccharine smile filled with awe and reverence. “Amazing,” she breathed. “We’ll save so much on our food budget.”

Eyes wide, Lyra realized her mistake and immediately backpedaled. “But I suppose I should set a good example for those around me who aren’t so lucky as to have magically shaped forms. Now if I remember correctly, you were telling me your story?”

Sweetie Drops let her love off light with just a giggle. “So I was. Honestly, my missions make for more interesting stories, but as you wish. I’ve always had a bit of a lust for adventure. While I love my work as a confectioner, I never could scratch that itch. So one day I decided to just go for it on impulse. I caught the next train out of town and went to explore some old Pre-Discordian ruins. I didn’t expect to find anything as they’d already been picked clean, but that didn’t matter. I ended up running into a hydra.”

“That’s the thing that grows two new heads when you lop one off, right?”

“Yeah.” The next part of the story would be a little embarrassing to admit to, but Sweetie Drops didn’t intend to omit the details. “It chased me around for a while. I was in good shape and kept my wits about me, so I stayed safely ahead of it for the most part using the dense environment. It got me a few times with a swipe of its tail, but no big deal. One time, I managed to climb up it onto the hydra’s back. I mean, I’d be completely safe there, right?”

Lyra snorted. “Not your best plan.”

“Quite. Anyway, as it turned out, I only ended up in that situation due to a bit of unfortunate timing. The Anti-Monster Division is quick to respond to these sorts of things, but it operates in secret, so it doesn’t often get to cordon off areas. I showed up between the first sighting and their arrival. Then they showed up and dealt with the hydra. My old boss was impressed with my performance, untrained as I’d been, and offered me a position with them. He promised my cover story wherever they posted me would allow me to continue my work as a confectioner, so I took it.”

“Huh. That’s it?”

Sweetie Drops nodded. “That’s it.”

“That was…very tame. The surface is so peaceful.”

It was, something for which Sweetie Drops was forever grateful. She knew that hadn’t always been the case. Not many believed the old stories anymore, but far worse than mere hydras used to walk Equus unchallenged after Discord’s fall. Princess Celestia, however, had brought them to heel under her rule.

“Hey, Bon Bon.” There was a nervous edge about Lyra, yet she pressed on nonetheless. “I, uh… If – that is – no. You see, I’m good at killing monsters. When you go on your missions, well, I could maybe tag along to keep you safe?”

Sweetie Drops pulled Lyra close. “I would never ask that of you.”

“I’m offering,” Lyra protested somewhat weakly. “It wouldn’t even be hard.”

“And I appreciate that, but it doesn’t matter.” The last thing Lyra needed was to go back out into the field. Maybe someday they could go on adventures together, but that wouldn’t be for a very long time. “We’re good at killing monsters too. So good, in fact, that we generally first attempt to subdue and relocate them.”

“I…” Sweetie Drops felt Lyra swallow as she held her love against her. “If you’re sure.”

“I am. There’s no shame in you wanting to stay at home.” And if Lyra didn’t believe those words, she would have to believe Honesty. “You’ve done your part for the world, Lyra.”

A suspicious wetness forced its way into Lyra’s voice as she said, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”





Sweetie Belle peeked around the corner of the hall. There’d not been a sound since the conclusion of that magnificent heartsong, and as far as she could tell, Lyra and Bon Bon wouldn’t be coming out of their bedroom anytime soon. She certainly wasn’t about to be the one to disturb them, either.

“Uh, so, should we…”

“No!” Sweetie Belle pulled Spike back behind the corner. “After that? They’re probably…you know.” She couldn’t tell for sure, but their thoughts were certainly fragmented enough that she felt wrong for eavesdropping.

“Yeah, good point.” With neither of them really sure what to do now, Spike scratched his cheek. “I guess we should tell Mom they’re occupied?”

It was as good a plan as any Sweetie Belle could come up with, so they set out.

As they walked, Sweetie Belle played back the duet she’d just heard in her head. It had to be wonderful to have a special somepony to sing with like that. Did Archmage Twilight ever regret not finding love? She didn’t seem to, but without being able to properly read her mind, who would know? Sweetie Belle wondered if she should ask. She was following in Archmage Twilight’s hoofsteps, so she should gather information and prepare herself to make an informed decision beforehoof.

Then again, Sweetie Belle knew Archmage Twilight and her sister got along surprisingly well. Maybe she should see what happened if she gave them a little push. Perhaps Spike would help as well.

On another note, it occurred to Sweetie Belle that she’d been neglecting something. “Hey, I don’t suppose there’s a piano here, is there?” She’d explored most of the lab already, but it was hard to say if she’d seen the entirety of the labyrinth.

“No, not unless Mom brought the one from our tower when she came back yesterday for whatever reason. I mean, I’ve seen her do stranger things…”

Somewhat surprised, Sweetie Belle asked, “You have a piano in your tower?”

“Yeah. Mom insisted I learn to play an instrument years ago. Something about developing my coordination.” A claw came up to scratch at Spike’s cheek with a bit more vigor than seemed normal for a casual gesture. “Personally, I think she read too many parenting books, but that’s Mom for you.”

“You play?” Getting a nod, Sweetie Belle gleefully cried, “Me too! Are you good?”

With a shrug, Spike said, “Better than most.”

Spike’s thoughts then drifted toward his claws, resulting in Sweetie Belle glancing down at her hooves. She managed just fine with some magical assistance, and she knew earth ponies who could play just as well, but having a bunch of dexterous, noodly appendages would make things easier. Probably. She wasn’t sure how he controlled them all when four hooves was quite enough for her, but he did it nonetheless.

“You could ask Mom to make one if you want. She’d probably turn it into a full afternoon lesson with you.”

However faint, Sweetie Belle didn’t miss the slight edge to Spike’s words. It’d become enough of a pattern, one he probably hadn’t even noticed himself, that she’d grown fairly certain he felt threatened by her presence in Archmage Twilight’s life. She understood somewhat. Being an only child, he couldn’t be used to sharing attention. But it was so silly! It wasn’t like she was being adopted or something. Her first instinct was to hash it out early, but after what happened with Trixie…

“I don’t think we have time for that right now,” Sweetie Belle prevaricated. “But I’d love to play with you sometime! I can sing, too. Without heartsong magic, that is. I’m getting a bit behind on my lessons, but I think Rarity will forgive me, all things considered.”

Spike snorted. “Yeah, I’d think” – he scratched his cheek again with rather more force than before – “Nightmare Moon showing up would be a pretty good excuse.”

With a worried frown, Sweetie Belle trotted in front of Spike. She stepped forward to get a better look at the spot he kept scratching and asked, “Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah, I’m fine.”

Sweetie Belle made a suspicious hum. In her experience, colts tended to stubbornly resist admitting to this sort of thing or visiting doctors. Spike protested her continued inspection of his seemingly unblemished scales, mostly in his thoughts, but didn’t move to stop her.

“Well, if you’re sure you’re fine–”

“I am!”

“–then I’ll let it be, but you should tell Archmage Twilight if this itchiness persists.”

After eliciting a half-hearted promise to do so, the pair continued on through the labyrinth. They only got lost once for a few moments before they found their way back to the entrance hall. There they found a very visibly reluctant Archmage Twilight engaged in conversation with Flash about what he did in the Royal Guard. It didn’t bode well for their friendship quest when she privately thanked Sweetie Belle for the rescue in her thoughts, but neither was it exactly unexpected.

Regardless, Archmage Twilight glanced down the hall Sweetie Belle and Spike had come from and, seeing nopony following, asked, “Lyra and Bon Bon?”

“They’re occupied with each other right now,” Spike said plainly.

Archmage Twilight let out a resigned sigh. “Fair enough. I guess I can go pick up Trixie myself, then.”

“I could come with,” Sweetie Belle volunteered. “She might listen to me.” Unless she’d done more damage than she thought, Trixie should still kind of like her.

“Thank you for offering, but I won’t feel comfortable leaving you alone with her to talk until I know a bit more about her current mental state.” Archmage Twilight fell silent as her thoughts raced at their usual speed. Even if she’d been using Modern Ponish, Sweetie Belle wasn’t sure if it were even possible to catch them all. Then after a few moments, she started slightly and added, “Ah. Just in case you’re worried or wondering, I would otherwise trust you to have more social grace about this than me. This really is just a matter of safety.”

Sweetie Belle offered a small smile and her thanks for the clarification. She’d assumed that was the case after having Rarity set her straight, but she appreciated the thought nonetheless.





The mare was back again. She’d waltzed right through the door, picked Trixie up like a foal, and threatened to drag her out if she wouldn’t walk. Niian, the traitor, hadn’t bothered to intervene at any point in the process. When she’d tried to retake control of the encounter, the mare had proven herself perfectly adept at countering lazy morning spellwork.

Thus Trixie trailed along, grumpy but awake, just a little behind the mare with the worst case of bedhead of her life. Detangling the mess without a brush occupied most of her attention, and the rest went to her sullen grumbling. She barely noticed when the mare dispelled her polymorph, and she only bothered to look when she heard, “This should be private enough.”

“For wha–” The last pony Trixie had expected stood before her. “You!” Age hadn’t dulled her nor had time touched her. Trixie took a step back and readied herself for a fight. How she wished she’d brought Niian, but it just hadn’t seemed important at the time.

Sunset Shimmer arched an eyebrow.

“What are you – why – I don’t understand. What are you doing here?” By all accounts, it couldn’t be on Princess Celestia’s orders. The two had split decades ago, and Sunset Shimmer was still one of Equestria’s most wanted mares. But what other reason could she have? Was it all a ruse? Did she do the princess’s dirty work while Twilight Sparkle maintained a sparkling clean image?

“I came to chat with my erstwhile pupil. Swap some stories. But then I heard about your sorry flank kicking around town. I doubt Sparkles tried to kill you, so what happened?”

On instinct, Trixie replied, “Nothing,” before even beginning to connect the rest of what Sunset Shimmer had said. “Wait. You and she…”

“Yeah,” Sunset Shimmer said, shrugging and bitter. “Cute foal. Got everything I ever wanted and more, and I have nopony to blame but myself. Well, Sunbutt, too, but that’s between me and her.”

As if Twilight Sparkle’s life hadn’t been blessed enough, she’d had Sunset Shimmer, the most infamously talented spellcaster of the previous generation, for a tutor before her entrance exams. How had that even worked? The timing was all wrong. Sunset Shimmer had already vanished by then. Or had Princess Celestia just picked her from birth to train up into the archmage or something with some inscrutable grand master plan?

Trixie stopped to ponder that for a moment. It would actually explain a lot. Not that it really mattered one way or another.

“Anyway,” Sunset Shimmer said, “I know you’re not supposed to be here. What are you doing moping around town?”

“Trixie is not moping!” 

Sunset Shimmer didn’t even deign to respond and merely stared Trixie down.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Considering Sparkles comes to me for advice about you,” Sunset Shimmer began as if that were obvious, “I can either get the story from her or I can get it from you. Which is it going to be?”

Trixie ground her teeth. If that was how it was going to be, she might as well at least have the first word. “We got into a fight. I lost.”

“Losing is never fun. Get over it. Get better. Try again.” Perplexingly, Sunset Shimmer managed to deliver that in a matter of fact tone. “And besides,” she continued as plainly as before, “it’s Sparkles. Even I wouldn’t presume myself able to beat her every time.”

Trixie had no idea how to respond to any of that.

“So what’s up?” Sunset Shimmer conjured a seat for herself with casual ease and took full advantage of it. “You don’t throw a week long pity party for yourself for putting in a good showing against an archmage. I assume Luna wouldn’t gamble a high-value asset with years of emotional investment on assassinating her.”

Eyes wide, Trixie hastily stammered out, “I – what – no, that’s not – I’d never.”

“Yeah, I figured. Frankly–” Sunset Shimmer looked Trixie up and down with a piercing eye. “–you’re not the type.”

Trixie opened her mouth, oddly offended, but then thought better of it and kept quiet.

“The point is you’re not disappointed in yourself for failing her. You didn’t split with your princess over some moral quibble. It must be personal. You managed to at least tolerate Sparkles for a time, so whatever issues you have with her must be separate. You showed no surprise that I know of your association with Luna, so you must know she knows.” Something in Sunset Shimmer’s scrutinizing look shifted. “Ah, I understand now. That reveal triggered this whole series of events.”

A chill ran up Trixie’s spine at the accuracy and certainty in those words.

Sunset Shimmer vanished from her chair, which disintegrated back into nothing, and reappeared beside Trixie with an arm around her neck. “Oh, Trixie, whatever shall we do with you? Did you think your princess would cast aside her plans, throw herself to her knees, and beg for your forgiveness?”

Trixie shoved Sunset Shimmer away only for her to vanish again. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But I do, don’t I?” Sunset Shimmer said now from the other side. “Poor little Trixie, all on her own. Abandoned.”

Trixie fired a formless concussive blast at Sunset Shimmer, but it went right through her as she faded into nothing. “The Great and Powerful Trixie left on her own terms!”

“Oh, but that makes it worse, doesn’t it?” The voice came before its source came back into view in front of Trixie without any forewarning.

Frustrated, Trixie demanded, “How are you doing that?”

Sunset Shimmer declined to answer. “You should know your princess tricked Sparkles into promising not to hurt you. You abandoned her – betrayed her – and yet she still cares enough to damage the friendship she’s building with Equestria’s princessmaker.”

“She betrayed me!”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Sunset Shimmer took a step closer, and Trixie took a step back only to bump into an apple tree. The next, and she’d covered more ground than should be possible to stand right in Trixie’s face. “Sparkles looks up to me in her own weird way, but she isn’t blind. More…willfully ignorant.”

Uneasy, Trixie leaned away as far as she could. “What does that have–”

“If you’re not going to cooperate,” Sunset Shimmer began, her voice both ice and fire at once, “tell me now. If you lie to me, I’ll save us all the trouble of sorting out whatever disaster your self-esteem issues will brew in a few years.”

Trixie didn’t relish her odds of getting the first spell off this close without Niian, and maybe not even then. “A-and if Trixie says no?”

“Then Sparkles knows not to waste her time with you.”

“What? But–”

Sunset Shimmer didn’t need or bother to hear any more. “I can’t threaten you to play nice and expect the Elements to work, but I certainly can for jerking us around. So which is it going to be?”

“I – I don’t know.” Trixie truly didn’t have any better answer to give.

A snort nonetheless met the response. “Sparkles isn’t going to sit back and just let Luna take Sunbutt from her forever. If the Elements don’t work, she’s going to reach for a more extreme solution.”

“That…” Trixie couldn’t deny it, nor could she pretend Twilight Sparkle wouldn’t be able to come up with one, but she didn’t want to think about what that meant she would need to do. She didn’t even want to put it into words. It would drop her right back where she’d been all those years ago when she’d turned away from Luna. “Fine. The Great and Powerful Trixie makes no promise of success, but she will cooperate.” And if Luna won, well, she would cross that bridge only once she absolutely must.





“Oh, Index!” Amethyst Star caught the mare in question just as she’d been about to walk out of Ponyville Town Hall’s door. “Before you leave for the day, Rarity asked me to let you know she needs to speak with you when you’re available.”

Twilight nodded. While the solstice drew nearer every day, she had no immediately pressing schedule. The bearers were accounted for and occupied with their own things. Trixie didn’t appear to be going anywhere anytime soon. The preparations for the Summer Sun Celebration were on schedule. Yes, she could make time for a friend.

A warm feeling spread through Twilight as that thought lingered in her mind. She would make time for a friend – a friend, not family. She’d made a friend. Unreservedly, wholeheartedly, and without qualification. She’d not truly stopped to think about it before now, but the words rang with truth. It was such a strange feeling in need of further analysis. Even if the Elements turned out to be nothing more than a waste of time, at least she could say she’d met Rarity and Sweetie Belle.

“Index?”

“Ah, sorry. Got lost in thought.” After thanking Amethyst Star for passing along the message, Twilight headed outside and left for the Carousel Boutique. She wasn’t usually one for procrastination, but exceptions proved the rule. Besides, Rarity would make for far better company than Trixie. She wasn’t really in the mood for another fight after Luna had kicked her flank over and over again across her entire dreamscape, and she gave even odds on their less than joyous reunion coming down to that when she inevitably failed to resolve whatever Trixie’s problem was.

In a moment of déjà vu, a mare wearing Twilight’s own form – frustratingly still far better than she did; she’d need to ask for advice – teleported into view only a few steps away.

“Hey, Sparkles.”

Twilight lips curled into a warm smile at the arrival of another welcome distraction. “Eventide, I presume.” This was a strange tradition they were developing, but she wasn’t about to complain.

“Yeah. If you’re looking for Trixie, you just missed her. I sorted her out and sent her back your way just a bit ago.”

Twilight, stunned, merely blinked. Since when had fortune decided to smile upon this miserable mission? “Thank you.” No more appropriate words sprang to mind.

“No problem. In hindsight, I doubt there was much you could have done anyway.”

Now that caught Twilight’s attention. “Is there something about her I should know?”

Sunset waved off the question. “Eh, not really. Just be patient, show respect, and acknowledge her expertise in what she’s good at when it comes up without fawning. I’ll spare her the details, but her issues are centered around her self-esteem. Try not to pop her bubble. If you do, she’ll slip deep into depression.”

That sounded reasonable enough. She might need to have a chat with the foals about giving Trixie some leeway when it came to unflattering remarks about her, but Twilight could easily take care of that as she put them to bed for the night.

“Anyway,” Sunset continued, “brunch?”

After Sunset’s timely intervention, Twilight felt comfortable leaving the foals safe in Lyra’s capable hooves. Pinkie Pie, now that she thought of it, would likely know well in advance if Trixie tried anything untoward as well. Other than that, she did need to speak with Rarity, but that could wait a little longer.





“Oh yes, Mother, I was surprised as well when they told me. Unless an unlikely better candidate comes along, Fluttershy will apprentice under the royal menagerie’s caretaker to one day take his place. Rainbow Dash, of course, will be going with. Those two are inseparable, you know.”

Cookie Crumbles nodded mournfully from the kitchen table. “It’s always a sad day when friends move away, don’t cha know.”

A nervous chuckle escaped Rarity, one she hoped had come too softly to be heard over the racket she made preparing lunch. “Yes. You’re absolutely right. Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle’s friend, accepted a position at a school for gifted pegasi in Canterlot as well.”

“Aw, now that’s a shame,” Hondo Flanks said, similarly seated beside his wife. “But you’ve got me curious. Are those three headed out as a family?”

That would make for one heartwarming Hearth’s Warming card, but Rarity shook her head. “No, no. Princess Cadance scouted Rainbow Dash to teach at Scootaloo’s new school, and Fluttershy was just a coincidence of timing that made them amenable to the move.” She still needed to get the whole story from Rainbow Dash. The scent of intrigue lingered about that mare like a fine perfume. “Isn’t it wonderful when friends can stick together?”

Rarity cursed herself. The sharp remark had slipped out without intent.

At the table, both of Rarity’s parents sighed. Hondo Flanks spoke first. “Rarity, we’ve had this discussion a hundred times. We’re not sending Sweetie Belle off to some fancy boarding school in Canterlot.”

“Yes, yes,” Rarity replied dismissively. “We’ve all made our positions perfectly clear.” She’d not escalate the debate – not yet, at least.

With perfect timing, a familiar voice called out from the stairs leading up from her boutique’s main floor. “Rarity? Are you home?”

“One moment, please!” Rarity called back. “But do come up, darling!”

Curious, the previous topic forgotten for the moment, Cookie Crumbles asked, “Who was that?”

“A new friend of mine.” Rarity carefully set down her kitchenware and arranged for her pots and pans to boil and simmer away without supervision. She also politely turned down her mother’s offer to tend to lunch in her absence. The mare was the second worst cook she’d ever known with only Sweetie Belle surpassing their mother. It shouldn’t be possible to burn juice, but that filly had found a way.

Meanwhile the sound of hoofsteps approached. “Good morning, Rarity. Amethyst Star said you needed to – oh, hello.”

When Rarity finally turned away from her stove, she found Twilight disguised as Index standing in the doorway. As she’d expected, the two fashion disasters returning the greeting from the table dreadfully confused the poor dear.

As Rarity quickly made her way over to Twilight, she said, “Mother, Father, this is Index Code, the festival overseer. She’s in and out of town on business and stopped by for a brief chat.” Now guiding Twilight out the door with an insistent hoof, she added, “Please excuse us. I’ll be right back.”

Before anypony could get a word in edgewise, Rarity had Twilight out the door and whisked her off to the privacy of the master bedroom. Rarity closed and locked the door behind them, and they were safe. Thus she let out a relieved sigh.

“Wait.” It seemed events had finally caught up with Twilight. “Those were your parents? They’re not exactly…”

Rarity managed a strained smile. “Yes, I know, darling. They’re crimes against fashion. Our relationship may be strained, but I love them nonetheless.”

“Sounds familiar.” The pair traded sympathetic looks. “Their accent. Whinneappolis?”

Nodding, Rarity said, “They moved here before I was born, thankfully. Could you imagine?”

Twilight, from the vacant look on her face, clearly tried her best. When she broke from that horrid image, she shook it from her head. “Right. Anyway, I assume you asked to speak with me because of them.”

“If you could spare the time. I’m already beginning to get…eh, snippy.”

Twilight’s brow lifted in interest while the corners of her lips curled, but she politely didn’t press. “How much have you already told them?”

“I’ve laid the groundwork, but I’ve said nothing of you, the Elements, or Princess Luna. I did say Sweetie Belle was on a camping trip with a friend.”

“All right, I can work with that.” Twilight’s expression turned hesitant. “Are you sure you want to involve me in this directly right away?”

“Why ever would I not?”

“Well, I’m not exactly…” Twilight cast her mind out for an appropriate word and came back with, “–delicate when it comes to this sort of thing.”

Rarity laughed. “Darling, you are an absolute delight when you let your walls down.”

Twilight didn’t look like she believed a word of that, but it didn’t much matter at the moment.

“Besides, if this were a matter where charm and wit could prevail, I assure you Sweetie Belle would have been enrolled in Princess Celestia’s school from the very moment she turned eight.”

“If you say so,” Twilight relented. She glanced down at her hooves. “That won’t do,” she mumbled before reverting to her regular appearance. “So Twilight Sparkle, Archmage Twilight, or the not actually an alicorn Goddess of Magic?”

As amusing a scene as Rarity was sure the latter would be, she resisted the temptation. “Best to stay semiprofessional for the moment.” Her tone turned teasing. “We wouldn’t want my parents to think you had other reasons to take Sweetie Belle as a student.”

The color of Twilight’s coat couldn’t hide her abashed blush. She mumbled another apology for her behavior the day before yesterday as she pulled her regalia from nowhere and donned it. If the poor dear weren’t so adorably awkward, Rarity might have felt bad about it.

Twilight faked a cough. “So, uh, how do you want to do this?”

“Why don’t you just head out for a few minutes and then pop into my kitchen to let me know how Sweetie Belle is doing over lunch. Nothing to stand on ceremony over. Just our usual. But then, oh surprise of surprises, you notice my parents!”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “You were in theater as a filly, weren’t you?”

“Oh, darling, I got my cutie mark making the costumes for my foalhood troupe. Remind me to tell you the story sometime.”





Despite having directions, Trixie doubted she could have found her way back to Twilight Sparkle’s hidden lab on her own. The Frozen North was an endless white void in every direction, which didn’t lend itself well to navigation. Fortunately, if one wished to call it that, the site of her final battle with the mare still had an obvious gaping hole in the snow cover she could spot from the sky as she teleported. It was a fair ways off, but she was practiced with scrying spells and knew the general direction she needed to search.

Soon after, Trixie teleported into the entrance hall of the lab. She’d already known to expect it – and indeed had contemplated bypassing the entire affair by popping directly into her room – but the pink one had a welcome back surprise party ready and waiting for her. It wasn’t the worst, the most awkward, or even the most humiliating moment of her life, but it certainly ranked highly. At least she’d been spared an actual pity party.

Trixie reluctantly allowed Pinkie Pie to pull her into the celebration without any of her usual bravado. She just didn’t have the energy for it.

The lab’s other residents slowly joined the party, no doubt attracted by the initial cry of, “Surprise!” from Pinkie Pie. It came as a mild relief when she heard that Twilight Sparkle had stepped out. She wouldn’t have to deal with that mess for a while yet and certainly not until after she’d had her reunion with the other bearers.

Flash appeared first. They exchanged few words, which came as no surprise. They barely knew each other, he was one of those boring silent guard types that loitered around the castle doing whatever it was guards did, and the idiot was in love with a mare who would never love him back. If there was one thing she could agree wholeheartedly with Twilight Sparkle on, even if neither of them had ever said it aloud, it was how much of a waste of space he was.

Not a bad card player, though, from what Trixie had heard.

Lyra and Bon Bon showed up next. The former seemed oddly skittish on their approach, but perhaps that was just what happened when somepony bore witness to the true splendor and awe of the Great and Powerful Trixie.

Nonetheless, when Lyra drew near, she said, “Where I’m from, that last spell you cast would have killed everypony far beyond the blast radius.”

Trixie arched an eyebrow. She’d not yet determined exactly who and, more importantly, what Lyra was, but that sounded like a major clue if she could figure out its meaning.

“I don’t know where you found it,” Lyra continued, “but I hope you understand how dangerous it is.”

“Of course. Trixie recreated it herself from the tattered spellbook she found during one of her early feats of heroism.” Even if she’d almost died as a foal because of it, the experience had only fed her thirst for adventure. Someday she’d need to return to the ruins she’d stumbled upon now that she could properly defend herself from the monsters that lurked in the forest surrounding it.

A rather drawn out and skeptical, “Right,” came from Bon Bon. “Your parents let you play with magic capable of leveling cities?”

Trixie scoffed. Her mother couldn’t tell a healing spell from an evocation. Not that it mattered. “Recall the state the Young and Potentious Trixie found the spell in.”

After a moment to consider that, Bon Bon shrugged. “Fair enough.” Then her stance shifted ever so slightly. Her weight moved lower and her muscles tensed as if to spring forward and bring a hoof up against horn. The change came from habit rather than at any conscious direction, Trixie was sure, but something so small nonetheless gave away that the mare, for whatever reason, had extensive training in the martial arts. “So,” she began with a nonchalance Trixie doubted she actually felt. “You’re Princess Luna’s apprentice?”

Well, this one doesn’t beat around the bush. “Something like that,” Trixie muttered. “I’m surprised somepony told you.”

“It was only yesterday,” Lyra admitted with a hint of annoyance likely directed at a certain archmage. “But you’re here to help anyway?”

Trixie’s gaze flicked down to glimpse the Element of Honesty hanging about Lyra’s neck. What an annoying trinket it was. With a little huff, she replied, “I’m here to waste both my and Twilight Sparkle’s time with a plan that probably won’t work. If it fails, fine. If not, so be it. Better this than whatever else she might try instead. Besides, I wasn’t planning to involve myself at all before she sprung Laughter on me.”

None of that set off the necklace, it seemed, and Lyra nodded. “That’s fair. What brought you to Ponyville, then?”

“Where else would the Great and Powerful Trixie be when the wheel of history turns?” Of all the questions! Lyra regarded her with an odd expression Trixie couldn’t quite place, but she pushed the conversation along before that could go anywhere. “And what are you doing in Ponyville?”

A sappy, lovestruck expression replaced Lyra’s previous look as she nuzzled against her lover. “Bon Bon found me and gave me a home there.”

Bon Bon rolled her eyes. “What are you, a stray dog?” Not that the question stopped her from drinking in the affection. Those two really were the worst. “Lyra wandered around the world until she settled down with me. I’ve lived in Ponyville for years, so Ponyville is where we stayed.”

There was a lot they weren’t telling her about both their backgrounds, Trixie knew, but she let them slide. If they didn’t pry, she wouldn’t either. That worked just fine for her.

Not long later, the foals made their entrance. Sweetie Belle wore a warm and welcoming smile as she drew near while the dragon trailed half a step behind with a light glare. He raised a hand up to point two claws at his eyes and then turned them onto Trixie. This apparently did not go unnoticed, his thoughts likely betraying him, as Sweetie Belle nudged him with an elbow and said, “Be nice!”

Spike huffed and folded his arms together, no less suspicious now than before, but made no response. The effect was somewhat ruined when he failed to resist scratching an itch. Trixie ignored him.

“Welcome back, Trixie,” Sweetie Belle said. “I’m sorry if I offended you or unearthed unpleasant memories.”

“It’s fine. No hard feelings.” However she felt about Sweetie Belle’s mentor, Trixie had a soft spot for ponies who genuinely liked her stories and tricks, and the filly certainly made for a good audience when she wasn’t sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong.

Sweetie Belle tilted her head down and twisted a hoof into the floor as her eyes looked pleadingly up. “Will you tell me more stories sometime?”

Such was a mental assault against which Niian could provide Trixie with zero protection. “Of course,” she replied. If she’d stopped to think about it, she would have agreed anyway, but the filly was absolutely adorable and apparently knew how to use it to full effect. Perhaps this was how she’d managed to become Twilight Sparkle’s protégé.

In a blink, Sweetie Belle shed every pretense of shyness and beamed. She gave her gratitude and said she was looking forward to it before happily prancing off to join Pinkie Pie in some ridiculous party game. Spike pointed between his eyes and Trixie again before following after her.

Trixie watched the two for a few moments and then shook her head at the entire situation. Foals.





Completely without ceremony or warning, Twilight popped into Rarity’s kitchen just as she’d asked. She made a note to be slightly more literal with Twilight in the future. Some expressions, she realized, might be lost on somepony who could teleport and only Celestia knew what else as casually as breathe. And that particular phrasing might also require some adjustment, now that she thought of it.

Regardless, Rarity kept her wits about her and reacted not with surprise but with a calm and welcoming disposition. “Twilight, darling, good morning. You’re just in time for lunch. I hope you don’t mind, but my parents returned home since you last stopped by.”

Twilight turned to look at the pair seated at the kitchen table as though for the first time. Without Rarity rushing her back out the door, she took the opportunity to drink in the incongruous sight before saying, “No, that’s fine.”

“Fantastic!” Rarity ushered Twilight toward an empty seat at the table as her magic pulled an additional setting from her cabinets. “Twilight, these are my parents, Hondo Flanks and Cookie Crumbles. Mother, Father, this is Archmage Twilight Sparkle.”

The only way Rarity could have flustered her parents more, judging by the spirited but awkward greetings they gave, would require her to have asked Twilight to bring Princess Celestia with her. On the other hoof, Twilight offered a more terse and guarded salutation. It probably didn’t help that Rarity had painted her a picture of parents denying their daughter a proper education. It was true, of course, but she did hope they could get along for Sweetie Belle’s sake if nopony else’s.

Then Cookie Crumbles asked the obvious question. “So how did you two meet? Rarity, you’re not caught up in anything dangerous, are you?”

Rarity leapt to answer that before Celestia knew what Twilight might say could cause problems. “No, no, Mother. Sweetie Belle got into a little trouble. You know how she is. Twilight here helped her out of it, and the three of us have become fast friends ever since.” That was close enough to the truth without springing any nasty surprises on her parents.

“Yes…” Twilight leveled a lingering look at Rarity as she brought their meal to the table. It didn’t quite rise to disapproval for how oversimplified her explanation had been, but it certainly expressed skepticism. “I was surprised to discover a budding sorceress here alone and unguided. To be frank, when we first parted ways, I intended to put her on a watch list.”

Well that came as new information. As aghast in tone as Rarity felt, Hondo Flanks asked, “What? Why?”

Cookie Crumbles added, “We know Sweetie Belle can get into some mischief from time to time with her friends, but she’s a good filly.”

“It had nothing to do with her Crusader activities,” Twilight assured them. “Magic is power. The magically gifted are…larger, in a sense, than other ponies. Their actions tend to have magnified consequences in the world. A single sorceress, properly wielded, can perform great feats alone that hundreds of ponies would struggle to accomplish together. Thus they’re sought out. However well intended, your daughter has been in a very vulnerable position. I spent perhaps half an hour with her – not as myself, mind – and she latched onto me as a mentor figure almost immediately. Had I the inclination, leading her down a dark path would have taken little effort.”

Over the parental protestations that Sweetie Belle would never do such a thing, Twilight heaved a heavy sigh. “I’ve arrested many ponies who, at her age, nopony would have thought capable of harming a fly until some silver-tongued megalomaniac came calling. A few manage to turn their life around under my supervision. Most don’t. It’s an unpleasant pattern. The EIS tries to monitor potential victims, but we don’t always find them before they become problems.”

As that information set in, Twilight mused, “Tempest would likely be willing to share her story with you.”

“Of the Evening Guard?” Rarity asked somewhat weakly.

Twilight snorted in disapproval. “There is no Evening Guard.” Yet a moment later, she added, “But yes. Her circumstances are somewhat different, but it suffices to say I helped her out of a bad situation largely not of her own making.”

“I think we would all benefit from hearing it,” Rarity said diplomatically. Through the dark mood, she distributed lunch to everypony and implicitly put an end to that particular line of conversation. She’d known, of course, that Twilight regularly saved Equestria from all sorts of dastardly plans and captured the villains behind such schemes, but she’d never given much thought to where those ponies came from. The thought of her dear Sweetie Belle being so misled tore at her heart.

Worse yet, Rarity doubted she would have even thought to stand in the way! Had Twilight approached her merely as Index and offered to take Sweetie Belle as an apprentice, it would have been too good an opportunity to turn away. Sure, Index had the unimpeachable recommendation that came from working directly under the archmage and the princess, but would she have even bothered to investigate the mare had that not been the case? Not likely, she suspected, or at least not well enough to spot trouble.

The Neighpon pan noodles Rarity had made turned out splendidly, and she received appreciative – if somewhat subdued – hums all around. Coming from Twilight, who regularly dined on the best food Equestria had to offer, she took it as a very great compliment.

“At any rate,” Twilight said between bites, “Sweetie Belle has been doing very well with her studies despite…distractions.”

Both of Rarity’s parents sat up straighter and turned a glare onto her. She returned the look tenfold with the silent promise that if they denied Sweetie Belle this, especially after what they’d just heard, she would ensure the blame fell where it rightfully belonged. Sweetie Belle would despise them for the rest of her life. Twilight, invested in her lunch, remained oblivious to the exchange as she ate.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Rarity said. She then decided to cast subtlety aside entirely. “But what distractions, darling? Are her friends from Canterlot taking up too much of her time? Or is Scootaloo’s move to the capital too exciting? Or is it her and my planned relocation? Or maybe it’s learning directly from her idol?”

“Now hold on a second, Rarity,” Hondo Flanks said. “You told us Sweetie Belle was camping with her friends.”

“She is!” Rarity protested. When that got the response she expected rather than wanted, she continued, “Okay, so maybe I was a bit generous with ‘camping’, but she and Twilight here are roughing it in the north with a few others.”

When Rarity turned to Twilight for support, she said, “Well, my lab wasn’t really designed for residence, so I suppose that’s not an inaccurate description.”

Rarity smiled triumphantly.

Both Hondo Flanks and Cookie Crumbles frowned disapprovingly in return.

“Maybe we should just cut to the chase?” Twilight asked.

It did seem a bit uncouth to keep dancing around it and sniping at each other, so Rarity gave Twilight the nod to go ahead.

“It’s my intention to provide Sweetie Belle with as comprehensive of an education as she’s interested in pursuing. For now, she would be best served living in Canterlot Castle with easy access to me, our archives, and, if I’m not around, Princess Celestia. Rarity has already agreed to move in with her. In a few years, she should have the ability to move about Equestria as she wishes, and we could reassess her living arrangements as it’s my understanding they’re your primary concern. I personally elected to stay in the castle throughout my tutelage, but to each their own.” Twilight shrugged and scooped up a large helping of noodles with her chopsticks.

While neither of her parents appeared pleased to have this sprung on them, Rarity, on the other hoof, was pleased to see they’d not tossed the offer aside out of hoof. That was likely because it was Archmage Twilight Sparkle on the other side of the table, rather than the result of any sudden epiphany on their end, but foal steps.

Hondo Flanks said, “That’s a very generous offer, ma’am, but why our Sweetie Belle?”

“Ah, well, she impressed me when we first met. Then the more time I spent with her, the more obvious it became she had a bright mind in need of guidance and access to resources. Teaching has never been my thing, but she’s grown on me, and I kind of get why Princess Celestia enjoys it now.”

Hondo Flanks and Cookie Crumbles glanced at each other with an expression Rarity couldn’t read.

“What were you expecting in return?”

It was a fair question, all things considered, but one which clearly caught Twilight off guard. “What am I…” She stared at Hondo Flanks with a blank expression. “Nothing?” She cocked her head ever so slightly to the side. “I mean, Sweetie Belle will probably end up working with me or assisting with my personal projects from time to time, but that would be of her own initiative.”

Rarity stepped in to clear up this cultural misunderstanding before it could potentially broaden. “Darling, the storybook mentor-protégé relationship you shared with Princess Celestia is very, shall we say, atypical.” It certainly didn’t help that they all had that awful warning about Sweetie Belle being led astray on their minds, and everypony knew the archmage regularly threw herself into terrible danger for Equestria. Indeed, dear Sweetie Belle had already gotten caught up in such dangers, not that anypony who didn’t already know needed to. “Perhaps a little context is in order.”

“Oh. Sure.” Twilight gave it a few moments of consideration before deciding on extreme bluntness. “I have an arbitrarily deep purse, and much of Equestria’s government is at my beck and call. I’ve turned down bribes to teach some noble’s brat larger than the sum total of wealth likely to ever pass through your hooves. The only thing I want but don’t yet have I will acquire on my own.”

The curious eyebrow Rarity raised at that went unacknowledged.

“I really have no reason to teach Sweetie Belle other than because I like her and I think she’ll not waste the opportunity. Moreover, if you know anything about me, you probably know I’ve spent my entire adult life working a job I hate just to help my own beloved mentor. It’s thus very unlikely I’ll get bored and decide to drop your daughter someday.”

Rarity cleared her throat. “Twilight, perhaps you’ve made your case?”

After a moment, Twilight shrugged and then indulged in more noodles.

“Yes, anyway,” Rarity began, “I returned from the castle only yesterday. The apartments Princess Celestia arranged for Sweetie Belle are really quite lovely.”

Twilight, noodles hanging from her mouth, hummed in feigned surprise. She quickly slurped the remainder into her mouth and swallowed. “She took care of that already?”

“Oh yes, dear.” This was just the opening Rarity had been hoping for. Denying the archmage was one thing, but the princess herself? Perish the thought! “She seemed truly delighted with the whole affair. I’m afraid we indulged in a bit of gossip about our mutual charges over dinner.”

The mortified groan Twilight made earned a smirk from Rarity and even managed to get a smile from Cookie Crumbles.

“Princess Celestia told me about a certain incident with a…Smarty Pants, I think it was. Did you truly–”

Twilight, eyes wide, hastily cast a spell and silenced Rarity. She breathed a sigh of relief as Rarity pouted, although the reaction was entirely worth the cost. “I can’t believe she told you that story. Would you like to hear about the Hoarded Lore of Celestia Herself™?”

“What on Equus was that?” Rarity only realized after she’d said it that Twilight had returned her voice, although she stood by her incredulity.

“That, dear Rarity, is but the tip of the iceberg. The next time you see her, you should ask for Celestia’s opinion on jasmine tea.”

Rarity arched her eyebrows. There must be a story behind that, but she had a hard time imagining what it could be. It was then, with a glance aside, that she realized they’d gotten lost in their own conversation and completely ignored both her parents and why they were all here.

“I’ll be sure to do so,” Rarity said, “but we should return to the matter at hoof. We wouldn’t want to keep you from your work too long.”

Twilight now, too, recalled that they had company and composed herself into the consummate professional she was. “Yes, you’re right.” Turning to Rarity’s parents, she said, “I should mention that, through a bit of negligence on my part, Sweetie Belle managed to nose her way into a classified project. It’s obligatory – something I could draft her for if necessary despite her age – but the relative danger of her participation is minimal. It shouldn’t last past the solstice, although she’ll be on call if it ever comes up again. Otherwise, the decision on her education is, of course, yours.”

Hondo Flanks and Cookie Crumbles looked to each other and carried on some silent conversation between themselves. It was a far better reaction than usual whenever Rarity brought this up, so she took heart and held her breath.

“I think we need some time to discuss this as a family,” Cookie Crumbles eventually said. “Would you mind waiting to hear our decision until after Sweetie Belle is done with that project of yours?”

It wasn’t what Rarity had hoped to hear, but she breathed a silent sigh of relief nonetheless. She could work with that, hopefully without having to escalate matters.

Twilight, naturally, replied, “Of course.”





Twilight wondered if she should just skip the party and teleport straight to her room to work on something in private. Everypony, even Trixie, looked happy as they played some strange war game with fruit and made a complete mess of her lab. Hundreds of tomatoes alone pasted the walls and floors. Missed shots, she assumed. She didn’t want to spoil the fun by intruding.

That said, both Lyra and Trixie had clearly noticed her scrying ahead to ensure her destination was clear. If she didn’t at least show herself, one or both of them might take it as a slight. Why was friendship so hard?

With a sigh, knowing what to expect, Twilight teleported into the entrance hall. Almost immediately, Trixie flung a tomato at her face. She’d held no illusion of any other greeting and just let it hit her. It did no harm, and it took less than a second to clean herself up. In all honesty, she’d expected Lyra to send one her way as well out of revenge for the snowball fight she’d technically not started.

Sweetie Belle took a more creative approach. Rather than throwing a soft fruit – and had they really needed to raid the pantry for this? – she galloped toward Twilight with clear and obvious intent to use herself as a hug-based projectile. She lost her nerve before arrival, however, and slowed to a stop just a step or two away. She then explained what they were doing and what they’d been doing before that at high-speed. Twilight nodded along at the appropriate moments as she led them toward Spike.

When he was within arm’s reach, Twilight pulled Spike close into what technically qualified as a hug and whispered, “I never thought I’d have to tell you this, but no wild parties when you’re house-sitting for me in the future.”

Spike blushed just enough for it to appear through his scales and nodded his understanding.

With that out of the way, Twilight turned her attention to the elephant in the room. “Hello, Trixie.”

Trixie’s lips pressed into a thin line as she pulled in and then pushed out a heavy breath through her nose. It sounded like resignation. “Twilight Sparkle.”

“A friend told me she talked to you?” It wasn’t really a question as Twilight saw no reason for Sunset to lie about that, but it was an invitation to air any complaints. Twilight knew she could have gone about it with sensitivity and kindness as easily as she might have leapt to threats and mind games. The determining factor would have come down to what she thought Trixie would best respond to in the eleven days left before the solstice.

Trixie snorted in wry amusement. “She did. I understand now how you turned out so…” She waved a hoof in an unnecessarily large circle through the air. “–you.”

“Uh-huh,” Twilight deadpanned. She should be offended on her own behalf and Sunset’s, but she had to admit Trixie kind of had a point. “Well, I’m glad she proved so illuminating.”

For what it was worth, Trixie wore a smirk rather than a scowl. That was a marked improvement over her departure a week ago, even if her ego and flair for drama seemed to be back in full force. “Undoubtedly so.” She flared her cape with a bit of magic, adjusted her hat with a jerk of her head, and proclaimed, “The Great and Powerful Trixie will want a rematch sometime. She merely got carried away and made a mistake at the end of our last battle.”

Twilight flinched before she could stop herself as soon as she heard the request beginning. After that frustrating ordeal and then Luna, she really didn’t want to. So she took a gamble. “Okay. But I have safety and environmental concerns. If we fight all out again, I will assume it’s for real unless we’re in a dreamscape.”

For a second, Trixie’s bravado faltered. It was a low blow but effective nonetheless. She recovered quickly, however, frustratingly enough. “Oh yes. I heard Luna tricked you into guaranteeing my safety in perpetuity. Nice.”

Twilight silently cursed Sunset. Oh, Twilight had no doubt she’d used that little nugget of information to great effect, but she didn’t have to live with the consequences. “It was a mutual pact to protect all the Element bearers,” Twilight retorted with only a tiny, itty-bitty bit of grumbling. “Luna and I are concerned the Elements are damaged. The last thing anyone wants is a shock to them setting Discord free.”

“Discord?” Sweetie Belle asked at the same time Spike said, “Oh, not good.”

With a sigh, Twilight made a note to give Sweetie Belle a lecture on the Discordian Era at some point. She actually likely needed to come up with an entire series of lectures on history since she’d pulled the filly out of the public school system so young, but she could start with Discord. By the whispers, however, Spike had taken it upon himself to offer her a crash course for now.

“Well… Hmm… Okay. Trixie admits that would be bad.”

Twilight breathed a silent sigh of relief. She held up a hoof. “Peace, then?”

After a moment’s delay, Trixie tapped her hoof against Twilight’s. “Peace. But anything more is a separate matter.”

“Understood.” With that done, Twilight surveyed her ruined lab space and dreaded to think how far the mess extended into the corridors and other labs. She looked down at Sweetie Belle. “You know, according to your sister, we’re supposed to be on a camping trip. Not…” Failing to find the right word, she swept an arm out in a wide arc toward the fruity mess plastered everywhere.

“Rarity said that?” Sweetie Belle asked with an innocence Twilight believed. It must not have been her who’d started this. Perhaps Spike, then, or far more likely, Pinkie Pie. The other four were unlikely suspects.

“Yeah. Your parents came home recently.”

A rather mixed, “Oh,” came from Sweetie Belle. There was excitement to see them, certainly, but also early-onset reluctance. She was roughly a decade too young for that to set in without cause.

“If you want to take a trip to Ponyville for a few hours at some point, just let me know.”

Sweetie Belle shook her head. “This is more important.”

Not wanting to push considering her own troubled relationship with her parents, Twilight dropped the matter.

Into the somewhat heavy silence, Spike asked, “If we’re supposed to be camping, can we make s’mores?”

That was an immediately popular idea with both Sweetie Belle and, somewhat surprisingly, Trixie. Twilight did suppose she was a traveling showpony, though, and was thus probably used to camping, campfires, and all other related activities. Maybe less so now after studying under Luna for so long than when she’d first hit the road, but that seemed like a lifestyle one didn’t forget.

Then Pinkie Pie popped up from nowhere to add her two bits. “We can use the Bunsen burners as our campfire! I’ve got so many good campfire stories to share! We’ll have to start with the science themed ones.”

As Pinkie Pie led the other three off to see to the arrangements, Twilight lingered in place and wondered at how quickly Pinkie Pie had derailed and hijacked both that conversation and her plans for the night. She’d wanted – well, it really didn’t matter what she’d wanted anymore, did it? She’d completely lost any semblance of control with one idle tangent.

Eventually, Twilight shrugged. To nopony, she said, “Sure. Why not?”
> Chapter Nineteen - The Molt
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Just before the Discordian Era at the height of pony civilization, Star Swirl delved into the study of magic modification. By good fortune, what remained of his research notes was discovered during the Key of Unfettered Entrance Incident.” By herself, of course. “Using them as a jumping off point, we’ve recreated and improved upon the magics involved. The original spells, as we believe them to have been, we suspect would have produced unstable results.

“The goal of this first experiment will be to expand the magical capacity of the test subject.”





“Oh, give me that,” Twilight said as she snatched the Player’s Handbook for O&O back from Luna. She flipped through it until she found the example in the text she wished to cite. “See? This passage clearly sets a precedent that organic matter – alive, dead, or undead – does not by itself specify a distinct ‘target’. If I were to, say, cast an invisibility spell on myself, Ember and Autumn could fall under its effects counting against my encumbrance limit. There’s no reason why I can’t target them together as one organic mass to split my healing spell’s effects to top off their HP.”

“That is so clearly not the intent of the rules,” Luna retorted.

Twilight snapped the handbook closed and stowed it back in her saddlebags. “Nonetheless, such is more true to life.”

“Realism must be weighed against game balance and good design.”

“Agreed,” Twilight allowed, “but is this not a game of cooperative storytelling? My son and brother have played paperless O&O. The rules thus, clearly, are mere guidelines to ease the experience along.”

Luna, finding no easy retort to that, grew flustered. “If I let you get away with this, you’re going to keep finding exploits to abuse.”

“Obviously,” Twilight admitted freely. “That’s kind of my thing. Tricks, creativity, and lateral thought.” Then she reached for the ultimate player argument. “That’s how I enjoy the game.”

“Fine!” Wings flared, Luna stomped a hoof. “You can cast your spell as you wish.” As she turned to return to wherever she went to perform her GM duties, she grumbled, “One extra spell. Never miss it.”

Victory was sweet.

Now that the true epic battle had finished, Twilight could get back to healing her party from the much lesser battle they’d gotten into with a float of cragadiles. They’d started setting up camp not far from a river to rest inside a forest glade, and of course Autumn and Ember had gone off on their own to collect firewood and had come galloping back with a dozen giant, angry monsters nipping at their tails. Somehow.

Twilight stood by the accusation she’d made to Luna what felt like ages ago: she was here to foalsit.

An arm on each side curled its way around Twilight’s neck. Autumn stood to her left while Ember took her right, and the two squished her between them.

“Ha! Rules lawyering for the party! I love it.”

Autumn held up a hoof, and Twilight reluctantly bumped hers against it. This was all a bit too much enthusiasm for her. Still, she didn’t want to kill the mood, so she said simply, “I’ve been studying.”

On Twilight’s other side, Ember barked a laugh. “You know, you’re not bad. Thought you had a bit of a stick up your plot, and you totally do, but I guess sometimes it’s good for something.”

Twilight, the sarcasm within unwilling to remain leashed, rolled her eyes and said, “Gee, thanks.” She managed to extricate herself and pushed Ember and Autumn together. “Let’s get this over with before Luna changes her mind. You’d best stay in physical contact. You know she’ll nitpick and laugh at us if you’re not.”

Thankfully, those two behaved and did as asked without any antics or protests. Ember draped an arm around Autumn’s shoulders, and Twilight cast her healing spell. An aura of sparkling green magic passed over them, and their remaining bite and scratch wounds, if they could truly be termed as such here, knit together and disappeared as their HP refilled. Injury in this campaign was entirely for show. A severed limb hurt as much as a paper cut and only that much just to remind and notify that the wound was still there.

“There,” Twilight said when her spell finished. “Now what have you two learned today?” If they were going to act like foals, she would treat them like foals.

“Test the waters before you jump off a cliff?” Autumn suggested.

It was a good lesson with legitimate real life application, but not the one Twilight had in mind. This time, at least, the river had been just deep enough to get away with that.

Ember tried a different approach. “Always thank your white mage?”

“That’s a step in the right direction,” Twilight allowed.

Now finished setting up camp after combat had interrupted them, Seabreeze flew in and knocked both troublemakers upside the head. “How about don’t jump into a cragadile nest!”

“Thank you, Seabreeze.” As fun as the antics of this dysfunctional party could be, not that Twilight would ever admit that to any of them, sometimes she wondered how they made any progress at all with the overarching campaign.

“You know,” Berry Punch began as she approached, “I’m not sure if cragadiles have nests. Don’t they just kind of float there and bury their eggs?”

That wasn’t the point, and Twilight ignored it entirely to continue her lecturing. Seabreeze had kindly provided them with a few logs to sit on inside their camp, as it happened, so she dragged Autumn and Ember next to the fire and sat them down for a proper scolding. When she finished, the sun had set.

Time was a strange thing in this world. The day-night cycle proceeded in proper order normally, but by mutual agreement of all concerned, they could speed things up if they wanted to get to a certain part of the day. No sane adventurer traveled at night through a forest crawling with monsters without due cause, thus they went about their usual ritual to skip past it and awaited the return of the sun so they could actually see where they were going and what wanted to eat them.

Luna assured them she took no offense, but her tendency to spring nighttime ambushes left Twilight wondering.

While they waited around the fire’s warmth and kept watch, they used the downtime to catch up with each other. With the exception of Twilight, none of them could easily visit one another, after all.

“So you seem a bit more…cantankerous than usual,” Autumn said to Twilight, who couldn’t help but snort in amusement at the particular adjective used. Despite her griping, she did enjoy how free she felt amongst these people to be herself. They had no expectations of her and thick skin. “Anything bad happen?”

That reminded Twilight she needed some medical advice. She’d set it aside when they’d first gathered since there wasn’t anything she could do until she awoke, but now seemed like a good time to bring it up. “It’s been a long day.”

“Coming from you of all ponies,” Berry Punch said, “it must have been brutal.”

“Eh, it was more like putting out a lot of little fires.” The bearers weren’t walking on eggshells around one another, precisely, but a tension undeniably lingered in the air. It certainly didn’t help when new problems kept cropping up every day. “Yesterday was getting the band back together, metaphorically speaking, but there were reasons why we split. Today was just…long. But thank you for bringing it up.” Twilight turned to Ember. “Could I ask you a question about dragon health?”

Ember shrugged. “I’m not an expert, but fire away. Something wrong with Spike?”

“Yeah. He broke out into the worst case of stone scale I’ve ever seen.”

That must have rung a bell, as Ember hummed in understanding. “Is it all over his body? Crazy itchy? Painful to touch? Bad smell? Problems with volume control? Uncontrollable fire burps?” When Twilight answered yes to every question, she said, “Congratulations. He’s going through what we call the molt. He’s about to grow wings.”

“Oh!” Twilight had strongly suspected that would happen eventually. She’d never encountered or even heard of an adult dragon without wings – barring injuries, of course – but no one had ever made the when and how of the process clear to her. “So he’s a teenager now, basically?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Ember smirked and added, “Have fun with that.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. Her teenage years had been entirely without incident, at least as regarded hormones, and she’d raised Spike to be a kind and gentle dragon, if with a bit more of her snarky side than she wanted. She had no worries.

“From the sound of it,” Ember continued, “he’ll pop sometime tomorrow morning. Maybe in the afternoon. He’ll start glowing, the itchiness will fade, and then he’ll turn to stone. Give him, like, a minute, and it’ll be over. He shouldn’t feel a thing. Best keep him inside until then, though. The molt stench attracts predators.”

Were they not in a dream, Twilight would have been taking notes. Sadly, she would just have to make do with her memory. “Is there anything that can go wrong that I should watch for?”

Ember hummed something approximating an, “I don’t know.”

However disappointing, presumably a dragon as old as Ember would know of any common ailments simply by having bumped into them at some point. Twilight took solace in that and promised herself not to fret. “Anything I should keep in mind when teaching him to fly?”

“Yeah, find someone with wings to…” The sarcastic remark died on Ember’s tongue when Twilight ruffled her own pair which she’d demonstrated her proficiency with on several occasions. “Right. Well, I’d still probably find a bat pony or another dragon if you can. No feathers and all.”

“Hmm…” Twilight tapped a hoof to her jaw. That sparked an idea. “Hey, Luna.”

The mare in question faded into view upon her summons. “Would you like to take a break or leave early?” It would seem they were of one mind on this matter.

“Maybe we could just duck out real quick while we’re waiting for daylight?” Twilight turned her gaze back to Ember. “That is if you’d be willing to teach me to fly like a dragon? I’m a quick study, and this would be my fourth pair of wings.”

Curious, Seabreeze asked, “Fourth?”

“In order, butterfly, pegasus, and breezie.” The butterfly wings spell technically operated largely independently of its subject, but it still counted. Alicorn wings might even be distinct enough to count as an extra pair.

Ember considered the proposition for a few moments before agreeing to teach the basics.





Much later in the night, or arguably early morning, the group had once again dwindled down to just Luna and Twilight. As had become tradition, the two retreated to Twilight’s dreamscape for drinks after a long gaming session. Twilight, as soon as they’d arrived, turned herself back into an alicorn. She’d gotten a lot of experience as a dragon, but she wouldn’t recommend it to anypony. Digits were weird and impossible to coordinate, and bipedalism was not for her.

Luna, of course, chose to comment. “You made for an entertaining dragon, you know.”

“Yes, yes,” Twilight said dismissively. She teleported her saddlebags to her library to shelve the rulebooks they contained later. “I should mention I’ll be heading to bed late tonight and probably getting up early, so plan accordingly.”

“Tiring of me already? I’m hurt.”

“Hardly,” Twilight replied offhoofedly. She moved toward the stairs up to the second floor tavern. “I’d spend every night with you, but today is movie night.” Really, it was just everypony’s day off from being a bearer. Trixie had a performance scheduled in Ponyville, and everypony else had something personal that needed doing. Such things did tend to accumulate when spending weeks out of contact with civilization in the middle of nowhere. After a few more steps, Twilight noticed that Luna had stopped following her. She turned around, noting Luna’s bemused expression, and asked, “What is it?”

The question snapped Luna out of her daze. “Nothing,” she said. “I’m merely somewhat surprised and unsure how to take that.”

“Ah. A friend of mine gave me some good advice. Aside from Celestia and Sunset, you’re the only pony I know who I can really call an equal. It’s okay for me to enjoy your company.” As they moved past the pantry, Twilight snagged some Apple cider for herself while Luna opted for an alcoholic drink she called moonshine. “Doesn’t mean I won’t be furious with you if you hurt Celestia, but that’s what compartmentalization is for.”

Luna uttered a contemplative, “I see,” as they sat at their regular table. “An interesting perspective. Do you really feel so alone?”

“Eh, yes and no. I’m asocial, so loneliness doesn’t really bother me, but I don’t not enjoy good company either.” After sipping from her cider, Twilight added, “I must admit it’s nice to have somepony other than Celestia who can really keep up with me.”

Luna hummed thoughtfully into her mug, taking a long, slow drink. “I can understand that.” She set her cup down but let a hoof idly play with the handle. “In turn, I must admit much of that is nothing more than age and experience. I do greatly enjoy the study of magic, but I don’t share the same spark of genius you have for it.”

Twilight shrugged. That didn’t much matter to her. She likely wouldn’t even notice the difference for at least half a millennium. And there was, of course, always Sunset. Their relationship had its own baggage, but if she needed somepony specifically with the same intuitive grasp of magic in its entirety as herself, she had the option available.

“Perhaps not,” Twilight said, “but it changes nothing. Honestly, my primary concern at this point, besides Celestia, is you’re going to end up the boring, broody sister after the solstice whatever the outcome.”

“Ha!” The confident smirk Luna wore said everything for her. “That would make me the fun sister now, no?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “If Celestia had as much free time as you…” A frown forced its way onto her lips as she considered what Celestia actually did purely for enjoyment’s sake. She guest lectured at her school, of course, and liked to make mischief on a harmless scale. She dabbled in cooking, Twilight knew, and had once confessed an interest in theater. “Well…”

“Ah ha! Thou admits it!”

No matter how long she searched her memory nor how hard she tried to deny it, Twilight could only come to one conclusion. She knocked back a longer drink and then set her mug down on the table with a bit more force than necessary. “Yeah, okay. Celestia is kind of a workaholic. I must get that from her.”

“One wonders what she’ll do with her time once I claim my victory.”

Twilight said nothing, not rising to the bait if Luna’s words were meant as such. It did sound like genuine curiosity, but one never knew. Instead, she asked a far more relevant question. “What did you two used to do for fun?”

“Ah, that was a long time ago,” Luna said with a nostalgic air as she slipped into Old Ponish. “Much was different back then. Sister and I shared a common interest in pranks, but our roles tended to send us in different directions. I fought on the front lines against both enemy nations and the monsters which freely roamed our untamed world. Nightmares as well when I could. The slower pace of the arts and sciences called to me when it came time to relax. Sister, in turn, spearheaded most of our domestic battles. She so desperately wanted out of the castle. It’s not well known now, but she became a notorious thrill seeker.”

“Really?” Twilight asked, intent on prodding the spark of Luna’s nostalgia into a roaring blaze. Beyond her own curiosity, it might help the sisters reconnect. “I have a hard time picturing that.”

“Aye, but ’tis true. Such a lust for adventure she had. Who knows what a thousand years stuck in a castle has done to her.” Luna shook her head in what looked like disappointment. Switching back to Modern Ponish, she asked, “Speaking of adventurers, how is Trixie?”

Hmm… Twilight eyed Luna. She could keep pushing, but any more might very well backfire on her. I think I’ll just call tonight progress. Thus she answered the question. “She’s well enough as far as I can tell. Sunset knocked some sense into her.”

Luna arched an eyebrow. “Sunset Shimmer?”

“Yeah. She and I go way back. Anyway, Trixie–”

“No, no.” Luna would not have her curiosity left unsatisfied. “You and Sunset Shimmer? How? When?”

Seeing the determined look in Luna’s eye, Twilight figured there would be no getting out of an explanation, so she told the story as best as she remembered it. Meeting Sunset was one of the few vivid memories she had left of her early foalhood, but some of the details were nonetheless frayed and hazy. Luna listened with obvious interest, enthralled, and even her hoof and magic never once touched her drink throughout.

“And then she saw me off back to Cadance,” Twilight finished. It wasn’t a particularly long story, but it had too much significance to brush over. “That’s how we met. I didn’t see her again until recently.”

“Fascinating.” Luna reached for her drink as she mulled over the story. Something about it, though Twilight knew not what, had captured her attention beyond the surface level. Soon, she said, “This does explain much, actually. Usually my sister’s students turn out more like sunnan ċild.”

Taking the literal translation, Twilight asked, “Sun children?”

“Ah, an older expression. I’m unsure if it still exists. More or less, it’s an accusation of being ostentatiously virtuous in seeking to follow my sister’s oh so perfect example.”

Twilight snorted. “Trixie said much the same to me.” She’d heard enough stories from Celestia to know she didn’t exactly live up to her predecessors in some key ways.

Although Luna laughed, she claimed, “Yes, but I meant it as a compliment. You dragged me to the negotiation table. None of them would have had the courage, the leverage, or the pragmatism to do that. Of all my sister’s students, I find you the most interesting and impressive by far.” The amusement gained the slightest edge of bitterness as Luna added, “I suspect she agrees given the trust and warmth she shows you.”

“Well, thank you. I guess.” Twilight felt it best to move the conversation along and not give Luna time to brood. “Anyway, as I was saying before we got off topic, Trixie is all right. She’s declared herself neutral but minimally cooperative. She’s convinced I’ll find something worse to do to you if she forces me to give up on the Elements.”

“See?” Luna said with a light laugh. “It pays to have a reputation.”

Twilight rolled her eyes and pretended she hadn’t heard anything. “I still don’t know what her problem is with you, but for what it’s worth, she obviously still cares on some level.”

“Yes, I know she does.” Luna heaved a sigh and then swallowed the remainder of her moonshine. “How are things with your own pupil?”

“A bit of a rocky start, but good overall. Sweetie Belle can be a bit too eager to help.” Twilight paused as she was about to sip from her cider. “I suppose that’s why she has Generosity.”

Luna shrugged with nothing to offer.

Setting that idle thought aside, Twilight decided to ask something she’d been curious about now for days. “So how does Trixie’s explosion work? The magical cost was high, but to generate so much energy from so little magic, relatively speaking, there must be some trick to it.”

“Have you not asked her?” The question was tinged with disapproval.

“Please,” Twilight scoffed. “You know she’s just going to say, ‘A magician never reveals her secrets.’”

Luna’s lips curled despite her obvious attempt to remain stern. “It uses a property of physics our time has yet to publicly rediscover.” She stopped there and called for the barmare to refill her drink.

Across the table, Twilight glared and briefly considered altering her dream to allow looks to kill. “Oh, you insufferable tease. Is that really all you’re going to tell me?”

“Why yes,” Luna replied with feigned innocence. “Are you not aware that a magician never reveals her secrets?”

Maybe Ember and Autumn have the right idea with their tavern brawls.





That she awoke last didn’t surprise Twilight. Both of her roommates had the abominable constitution of a morning pony, and while Spike did like to sleep in, he also went to bed much earlier. The abrupt manner of her awakening today, however, left much to be desired.

“Oh Celestia, what is that smell!” Over the noise of sharp claws scratching hard scales, a cringeworthy sound Twilight promptly cast a spell to filter out, she heard Sweetie Belle sniff and then immediately gag. “It’s like…sulfur, and sweat, and rotten apples.”

It took only the slightest whiff for Twilight to agree. She added a second spell to purify the air entering her nose. For a moment, she considered extending the same courtesy to Sweetie Belle, but upon reflection, this seemed like good motivation for her to learn a few new spells she’d need in a lab setting in the future. She lazily sat up in bed and mumbled, “Lab Safety for the Arcane by Vial Veil.”

Sweetie Belle rushed from their shared bedroom with the promise to return soon.

“Check the library,” Twilight finished through a yawn, not that Sweetie Belle likely heard her or needed the direction. She then turned her attention to the undulating mass of blankets atop the other occupied cloud bed in the room. “Sleep well, Spike?” Her voice was not unsympathetic, but she had been in the midst of an interesting conversation with Luna about educational reform. Was a few more minutes before his restlessness woke Sweetie Belle too much to ask for?

“I can’t stop itching!” Spike whined with just the hint of a sob entering his words at the end.

Twilight’s heart went out to him. This was worse than she’d imagined it would get. But what could she do? Who knew how her magic might interfere with the molt’s? The last thing she wanted was to accidentally cripple her son trying to ease his suffering. Maybe she could find an anti-itching cream without any magical properties, but by Ember’s estimate, by the time she did, the molt would likely have already ended.

“I’m sorry, Spike. But I have good news and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?”

“Good news, please.”

Twilight snared Spike’s blankets in her magic and pulled them off of him so she could properly talk to him. His stone scale had been bad yesterday, but now he looked like nothing more than a collection of angry red sores from his face down to the tip of his tail. It was as though, were he a pony, he was experiencing every zit of his teenage years all condensed into the course of a couple days. Furthermore, he’d made everything worse with his relentless scratching. Some areas had become particularly inflamed, and he’d left several clear claw marks across his scales from itching with too much force.

“Okay. Good news.” Twilight took a moment to steady herself. This indeed was worse than she’d imagined. “This is a normal part of growing up dragon. It’s called the molt, and it should end sometime this morning.”

Spike heaved a great sigh of not relief so much as solace. He still had a long road ahead of him, after all.

“When you start glowing, you’ll know the end is near. You’ll turn to stone, and when you break out, you’ll finally have your wings.”

Eyes widening, Spike gasped. The surprise and delight at the news practically radiated from him. “No way! Are you sure?”

Twilight nodded and watched on with an indulgent smile as Spike whooped and jumped in bed in celebration. He did, unfortunately, redouble his scratching once he finally calmed, but it was nice to see him so happy nonetheless.

“What’s the bad news?”

“Ah, well, dragon biology isn’t well studied, so I won’t feel comfortable providing any magical relief for you during this ordeal in case it causes interference.”

Spike took that well. Despite his obvious disappointment, he said, “Yeah, okay. I don’t want to end up with one wing upside down or something.”

Glad that Spike had shown the maturity not to make a fuss, Twilight added, “I would offer you a sedative, but I don’t want to risk being unable to wake you. I’m not sure whether or not you can suffocate during the whole ‘turn to stone’ phase.”

“Yeah, no to accidental suffocation, please.”

A small smile pulled at Twilight’s lips. At least Spike still had his sense of humor.

“Can I just hide in here until this is over?”

“If that’s what you want.” Given how strong his symptoms had become, that was probably for the best anyway. Between the stench and the itching, nopony would enjoy him being out and about right now, not even himself. “Would you like me to stay with you?”

“I…” Despite Spike’s conflicted expression – he knew this was a very inconvenient time for this to happen – the desire for either company or distraction won out. “Yeah. Would you tell me a story? I don’t think I could even flip through my comics right now.”

Twilight, of course, agreed.





When Sweetie Belle returned to her bedroom, her nose now magically protected, she found Archmage Twilight reading the unabridged story of Gusty the Great to Spike. She vaguely recalled hearing somewhere that it was the oldest known work of literature in existence, even older than the tale of Hearth’s Warming. After a quick explanation of the molt to soothe her concern for Spike, they both invited her to join them if she wanted. Spike technically made more of a grunt of acceptance than an actual offer, but she doubted she would be any more articulate were she suffering from the molt symptoms.

A deaf mare could tell this was far from Archmage Twilight’s first time reading a story aloud. While she lacked Trixie’s flair for spinning tales, she had a strong voice and apparently knew Gusty’s legend well enough to bring it to life with magic. She favored conjured props and puppets over illusions, likely because they were faster to create, but it made the performance no less engaging.

Archmage Twilight made for a good mother.

The day dragged on toward noon. Archmage Twilight teleported a light brunch for them from the pantry. Some bread and fruit wasn’t much of a meal, but Spike obviously had a hard enough time keeping even that down. He even burnt his first attempt to ashes with some accidental dragonfire.

Eventually, a warm red glow enveloped Spike. His building panic lasted only until Archmage Twilight set her book aside and reminded him that it was normal and a sign that the molt would soon be over. She invited him onto her larger bed and curled up beside him, heedless to the occasional bursts of flame he emitted. It took a few seconds before Sweetie Belle recalled that her dragon blood made her more or less fireproof.

The molt symptoms rapidly grew worse to the point where Spike looked to be on the edge of tears. His voice somewhat shaky, he asked, “I’m really going to get wings?”

Archmage Twilight smiled, nodded, and gently said, “You will. And when you look back on this morning, you’ll say, ‘It was worth it.’”

Spike offered up a strained smile. “Will you teach me to fly?”

“Of course I will,” Archmage Twilight replied without hesitation. “I even took lessons.” Her magic latched onto one of his claws and held it up between them for just long enough for her to ask, “How do you manage these things? They’re all…wiggly.”

The claw went straight back to scratching the moment Archmage Twilight released it, but Spike did manage to laugh. “Were you a good dragon?”

“Ehhhh, let’s focus on you right now.”

Spike laughed even harder at the evasion.

Sweetie Belle smiled softly in the background, but she couldn’t help but feel as though she were intruding upon an intensely private moment between mother and son. Moreover, a small inward pressure built within her barrel. She took a mental step back to examine the feeling, poking and prodding it until its secrets revealed themselves. It came as less of a shock than she would have liked when she realized the sensation stemmed from envy.

Envy of having a parent who, despite her work, was always available for her child.

Envy of having a parent who cared enough to provide the best education for her child.

Envy of having a parent who did ridiculous things like changing her species so she could better help her child.

Envy of having a parent who took the time to ask what her child wanted, trusted he would choose wisely, and would be there to catch him if he didn’t.

Envy of having a parent who would drop everything in the midst of a crisis just to comfort her child.

Sweetie Belle surreptitiously brushed a tear from her eye onto her pillow. She’d just described Rarity, hadn’t she? But Rarity was her sister. It wasn’t the same no matter how much she wished it were.

Figuring it was best to leave those two alone, Sweetie Belle quietly snuck out of the room. Archmage Twilight noticed her, of course, and quirked a silent eyebrow at her when she turned to close the door behind her. It was an invitation to stay, she knew, but she politely shook her head and left. This was a moment for family, and regardless of whatever worries Spike entertained, that wasn’t her.

Sweetie Belle sighed as she pushed her jealousy away. It wasn’t like she didn’t have parents or didn’t love them. She just wished they were a bit more–

“So?”

Sweetie Belle shrieked and reared back onto her hind legs. Somehow, Pinkie Pie had snuck up on her in a linear corridor.

“How is Spike? My Pinkie Sense told me he’s about in need of a party, but I’m not sure what kind yet. Is it a get well soon party, a congratulations on recovering party, or something else? It’s driving me crazy. The decorations and activities are so different. Can you solve this mystery?”

“Oh. I, uh, well, I’m not sure if he’ll have the energy for much. Perhaps something quiet and flight themed?”

Pinkie Pie, as was her nature, gasped for far longer than she should have space for air in her lungs. “Of course!” she cried at an almost indoor volume. Either she didn’t want to disturb Spike and Archmage Twilight, or she wanted to keep the party a surprise. “I should have known. He is about that age, isn’t he?”

“I guess?” Had Pinkie Pie made friends with some dragons during her life? It was the only explanation that made sense to Sweetie Belle even if it seemed unlikely at first blush. Then again, perhaps she’d just taken the news in and decided to roll with it.

Without missing a beat, Pinkie Pie asked, “Would you like to help set up the party?”

Sweetie Belle bit her lip. She was hardly in a celebratory mood. She didn’t want to make this about her, but she also didn’t want to drag everypony down with her. “I’m not sure if I–” It occurred to her then that Pinkie Pie knew how she felt. Kindness hung about her neck for all to see. The offer was genuine and in full knowledge of how gloomy she felt. Maybe this was what she needed to cheer herself up. “Well, if you’re sure?”

“Of course I am, silly!” Pinkie Pie snaked an arm around Sweetie Belle’s barrel and, with a shriek from the filly in question, managed to flip her up through the air to land perfectly on her back. “Now let’s away! There’s work to be done, and we’re just the ponies to do it.”





Evening had come to Equestria. Ponyville, normally a sleepy little village at this time of day, carried on with its festival preparations as ever as the solstice drew near. Amongst this crowd walked Index Code and Sweetie Belle with nopony paying them any attention. Rumor spread quickly in Ponyville, and everypony knew those two had settled into an apprenticeship. If they perhaps looked up with a frequency more commonly associated with pegasi, nopony noticed or commented.

Far above both pegasus traffic and the low cloud base, a purple dot buzzed about the sky. Spike had taken quickly to his flying lessons with a childish glee Twilight didn’t get to see from him too often anymore as he grew older. The first thing he’d said after his first proper flight was, “It was worth it.”

It was good to see him happy. Twilight knew Spike had been a bit off lately, although she’d not yet been able to pinpoint how or why. He hadn’t come to talk to her nor had he grown surly, so she’d left well enough alone, but this was more like it.

A brief flux of divination magic passed over the town, its intent being to find somepony, and a few moments after that, another surge brought Sunset riding in on a teleport. After spending so much time together, Twilight had learned to recognize the feel and pattern of her magic. She was in disguise, of course, but this time she’d chosen the more discreet appearance of a unicorn mare with a darker shade of magenta for her coat and a lighter purple bordering on pink for her mane and tail. For her cutie mark, however, she’d thrown subtlety aside and picked a cloudy sunset.

“Sparkles, tell me your kid didn’t spontaneously ascend to become some kind of dragon god.”

Twilight couldn’t help herself as she fell into a fit of laughter. “No, no. I – oh my, no.” She recovered, mostly, and added, “This is just how the dragon life cycle works, apparently. They call it the molt. It’s a fast process.”

“That’s weird,” Sunset unceremoniously replied, her interest in the subject clearly already gone. Then her attention shifted to the little filly standing at Twilight’s side. “Is this Sweetie Belle, then?”

“It is! Isn’t she adorable?”

Sweetie Belle, naturally, flushed and averted her eyes. At a mumble, she greeted Sunset and asked, “Who are you?”

“Eventide. I’m one of your grandmentors.”

Sweetie Belle’s gaze snapped to Twilight, the question obvious in her eyes. “It’s true,” Twilight said. “I met Eventide when I was less than half your age. Remember the advice I gave you when we first met?” She nodded toward Sunset. “It originally came from her.”

That stunned Sweetie Belle, but only for a moment. An excited ball of energy soon closed the gap between them and started rambling off every question that came to mind. To her credit, Sunset was a good sport about it and answered most of them. There were more than a few outright lies interspersed into those replies, but such was unavoidable.

Once Sweetie Belle exhausted her curiosity – for the moment only, Twilight knew – it came time to ask one of her own. “So are you just hanging out in Ponyville?”

“I’m taking some time off from my usual work,” Sunset replied. They both knew what she meant. “Chrysalis and I have been talking, and you know negotiations take forever even when both sides basically agree on what they want. This seemed like a good place to reside for the time being.”

Twilight knew it’d been a good idea to introduce those two to one another. “I take it things are going well, then?”

“Well enough. I’ve also been doing a bit of consulting. She’s still filling in for you, you know.”

Technically, Chrysalis got to go on the engaging missions while Moon Dancer got stuck with the boring bureaucratic work and the minor stuff.

“Who’s Chrysalis?”

Twilight had seen that question coming a league away, and she’d already decided to answer honestly. Sweetie Belle did, after all, already know the big secret. After casting a crude but reasonably effective spell to prevent casual eavesdropping, she replied, “She’s the queen of the changelings. Or the Equestrian hive, at least.”

“Oh.” Sweetie Belle nodded to herself and surprisingly had no further questions. Perhaps Spike had already filled her in on some of the details while they’d been left unsupervised.

To Sunset, Twilight then said, “I’m glad this is working out for you. To be perfectly frank, letting you have the Crystal Empire will be a huge load off my mind.”

“Glad to be of service, Your Excellency.” Sunset paired the sarcasm with a mock bow.

Sweetie Belle, meanwhile, asked, “The crystal what?” to which Twilight replied that she would explain later.

“Now as I understand it,” Sunset continued, “there’s to be a movie night in Canterlot tonight?”

Twilight wondered how Sunset had discovered that, but then she recalled that Celestia had invited Chrysalis. Careful not to get the wrong idea, she asked, “Would you like to come?” It was very unlikely, but it could give Sunset and Celestia the chance to reconnect without one of them being behind bars, either metaphorical ones or literal.

“I would.”

Nonplussed, a moment passed as Twilight collected herself. It was too good to be true for Sunset to want to make amends, which meant she had something else in mind. It wouldn’t be anything too malicious, no doubt, and one mare could only do so much damage inside the most heavily defended structure in Equestria while both its archmage and its princess were in residence. Really, she could just ask for most anything, and Twilight would oblige. Only a few objects of interest came to mind within Canterlot Castle which she wouldn’t happily part with or loan out.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

Sunset made no attempt to hide her mischievous grin. “I figured I would grab a replacement souvenir for the one I gave you.”

Yeah, I figured. Twilight rubbed her temples with her magic, weighing the possible but improbable good outcomes against the odds of Sunset actually succeeding in stealing Celestia’s crown. Luna would take the loss of her own as a personal slight, the logic being Celestia thought she mattered so little as to regard her regalia with careless indifference. Hers had been important to retrieve. Celestia, on the other hoof, would likely just replace hers until she recovered the original.

Twilight sighed. It was a sucker’s bet, but she would roll the dice anyway. Someday they would land in her favor. “Fine.”

“What? Really?”

With a nod, Twilight said, “I’ll get you into the castle.”

Sunset let out a bark of laughter and held up a hoof for a hoof bump. “You’re not even half the saint the papers make you out to be, are you?”

“I don’t read them, so I wouldn’t know.” Twilight brought her own hoof up but stopped short of Sunset’s. “I have a condition.”

“Yeah, I figured.” The moment over, Sunset set her hoof back down. “What is it?”

“I won’t interfere with whatever you do unless I have to, but you have to actually spend the night with us. If you get caught, you’ll have to bail yourself out.”

Surprisingly, Sunset agreed without protest. She merely said, “Okay, but I reserve the right to leave if your taste in movies is trash.”

“Deal.” They bumped hooves on it. “By the way, did you know Chrysalis is Silver Bell?”

Judging by the wide eyes, Sunset did not. “No way!”

“’Tis true.” A moment later, Twilight just barely resisted the urge to facehoof. I’ve been spending too much time with Luna. I’m picking up her anachronisms.

Hesitant to interrupt after that largely impenetrable back and forth, Sweetie Belle shyly asked, “Are you talking about the actress?”

Twilight nodded.

Sweetie Belle opened her mouth, paused, and then closed it. Her lips thinned into a slight frown. Then she asked, “Is this what every day is like for you?”

“Not quite,” Twilight said with laughter in her voice. “But the next year or so will probably come with a lot of surprises. I’m not going to pretend I can hide confidential or classified information from you.” Her own secrets were another matter, of course, but then that went without saying. “Just try to roll with the punches.”

Sweetie Belle promised to try her best with little confidence.

With that settled, Sunset asked, “So when do we leave?”

“Soon,” Twilight said. “I just need to extend one more invite. You’re welcome to come with.”

So it was that the three of them made their way to the Carousel Boutique. Before they entered, Twilight double checked that the spells she had monitoring Spike were functioning properly and then checked again for good measure. He’d done well in his practice flights, but she still worried. Unlike pegasi, dragons had zero magical impact resistance. They were physically durable and could take heavy blows, but an impact from terminal velocity couldn’t be good for him.

Sunset noticed, obviously, and rolled her eyes at Twilight’s fretting. She’d not be added to the foalsitting list, then.

Inside, there were a lot more boxes than Twilight remembered. But Rarity was preparing to move to Canterlot regardless of whatever her parents thought, so that made sense. At any rate, Twilight asked Sweetie Belle to go let her sister know they were there, and she was off like a shot.

“She seems nice,” Sunset observed once they were alone. She’d switched to Old Ponish so they could speak in privacy without Sweetie Belle understanding the echoes of their conversation.

Without denying it – who could? – Twilight said, “I’m sorry she badgered you with so many questions.”

“No worries. That curiosity is a good base for you to mold.”

Indeed it was. The more time she spent with the filly, the more Twilight suspected Sweetie Belle would blossom in an unstructured learning environment once she truly got started.

“I’ve heard a few stories around town…”

Twilight chuckled. “Yes, she’s a magnet for trouble but so genuine and earnest about it. You can’t hate her for it or even blame her. Half of the trouble she gets into stems from trying to help somepony.”

“Sounds like exactly what Sunbutt wanted from us.”

A pregnant silence fell. Neither said a word more on the subject.

From upstairs came a shrill cry of, “Silver Bell!”

Twilight chuckled. Chrysalis would eat well tonight.

“Hey, Sparkles? Who else is going to be at this thing?”

“Well, it’s usually just family, but we’re opening it up to close friends tonight.” Twilight knew who she was bringing, and she could guess who would be coming from Canterlot. “Most likely it’ll be the half of the extended royal family that we won’t set on fire–”

“Always good for a healthy social dynamic,” Sunset dryly observed.

“–Rarity and Sweetie Belle, Chrysalis and her heiress, and probably Moon Dancer. Cadance and Shining might bring one or two of their friends, but I doubt it.” It was a lot of ponies, but Sweetie Belle had started developing a tolerance for Generosity. She should be able to make it through the night without distress.

“Have I met Chrysalis’s heiress?”

Twilight shook her head. “Not likely. Her name is Ocellus, if that rings any bells.” It apparently did not. “She’s nothing like her mother, so be gentle.”

“Me? Gentle? Sparkles, would I ever harm a fly?”

Twilight arched a skeptical eyebrow.

Sunset merely chuckled.

When it became clear that Rarity would be Rarity and just had to make herself properly presentable, Twilight heaved a sigh. This could take a while. At least they were in no rush. She’d been sure to budget extra time for this even before Sweetie Belle had warned her that Rarity could take forever to get ready to go out. With that extra time, she might as well get something she’d been meaning to bring up out of the way.

“Sunset,” Twilight began solemnly, “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but it’d be remiss of me not to bring it up. This could be your last real opportunity to mend fences with Celestia for the foreseeable future. You know, whether she’s occupied with her sister or…” She had no idea what Luna intended to do with Celestia, and she didn’t really want to consider it further. “Anyway, my offer to mediate still stands if you want it.”

“And it’s still none of your business.”

Twilight said nothing. She’d not expected any other answer, but when she stopped trying, it would likely never happen. If it wouldn’t be a betrayal of trust, she’d sic Cadance on Sunset. Those two had a longer history and had parted on good terms. If anypony could bring Sunset back into the fold, it would be ‘Little Cadey’.

“So how do you plan to steal Celestia’s crown?”

It was a fascinating look inside the mind of the legendary thief, Eclipse, when Sunset actually chose to divulge her scheme. She’d learned long ago that no plan survived contact with the enemy and thus detailed a full graph of possibilities rather than a mere chain of desired events. There would be no winging it if something went wrong, and with how well she knew the castle, preventing her from escaping with or without her prize would be nigh on impossible. Celestia could overpower Sunset with sheer brute force and bring the chase to a prompt end, of course, but that would require her to first find her target. The rank and file guards could only do so much, and Twilight had no doubt Sunset knew well how to conceal herself from all known forms of divination magic short of whatever Loyalty did to locate ponies.

At long last, Rarity descended from her residence upstairs and joined Twilight and Sunset with Sweetie Belle leading the charge. She’d somewhat surprisingly restrained herself from going all out and wore a casual sundress aimed more at comfort than fanfare, although she’d certainly put her best effort into the rest of her appearance. Twilight didn’t really understand the point of using so much time for such a marginal gain over her usual look, but beauty and artistry was her thing, so whatever.

“Twilight, darling, oh, I’m so excited! Is it too much or not enough? I somewhat misstepped last time, you know, and I’d hate to commit another faux pas. I fear the dress code for private gatherings at the castle is not quite what I thought it was. At least not amongst your half of the royal family.”

“Rarity,” Twilight interjected, “you’re fine.”

“Are you sure? I have another version with embroidery, or perhaps I should stick to a hat and a light sweater?”

With patience she never knew she had for this sort of thing, Twilight once again reassured Rarity that she was fine. Twilight then introduced Rarity to ‘Eventide’ and left them to chat while she headed outside and called down Spike to come join them. His little purple dot in the sky stopped zipping around and arced into a sharp dive. He picked up speed quickly, and Twilight held a spell on the tip of her horn in case she needed to save him, but he pulled up as he neared the ground and arrested his speed with a loud, excited whoop at the top of his lungs.

As Twilight had a feeling that her expressing her concerns would only backfire on her, she didn’t ask Spike not to do that again without proper supervision. He needed to get all his energy out of his system, and throwing a parental wet blanket atop him wouldn’t help settle him down. She’d just have to watch him more closely for a while until she felt confident he knew his limits well enough not to do anything too reckless. He’d probably enjoy the extra attention anyway.

Spike opted to land on Twilight’s back to hitch a ride. With his new wings, she hardly needed to carry him anymore to let him keep up with long pony legs, but she merely rolled her eyes and indulged him. “Having fun?”

“You have no idea! This is amazing!”

“Uh-huh. I have flown before, you know.”

“Well…” It seemed Spike had no counter to that. “Was it as much fun for you the first time?”

Twilight thought back to the first time she’d used the gossamer wings spell to give herself a pair of butterfly wings made of morning dew. She’d ended up flying too close to the sun and had nearly fallen to her death. Luckily, Celestia had been there to save her, and more importantly, Spike had been too young to remember that embarrassing episode or develop a fear of flight. “Sure,” she finally replied. “Let’s go with that.”

“Uh-huh,” Spike said skeptically.

“Shush, you. I have a couple ponies for you to meet. You kind of missed the long introductions, but in short, Rarity is Sweetie Belle’s older sister. The resemblance is unmistakable. Eventide is a very old friend. She was my mentor of sorts before Celestia and had a big influence on me.”

Twilight promised to answer Spike’s questions tomorrow if he didn’t get them tonight from casual conversation. When she went back inside, she heard Spike dreamily utter perhaps the last thing she’d expected.

“Beautiful.”

Oh dear. How do I deal with this? Rarity, in the statistically unlikely chance she would entertain a draconic suitor, would be equally unlikely to find herself interested in someone so much younger than her. But on the other hoof, Twilight had noticed the occasional blush from Sweetie Belle around Spike. She suspected they’d come from flattering thoughts on his end rather than any true crush on either’s part, but maybe she could nip this in the bud and provide a safe, trusted first romance for both of them.

Nonchalantly – and indeed, this was merely a fact which she was observing – Twilight commented, “Yes, she is. From the resemblance, Sweetie Belle will be as well at that age.”

Twilight didn’t need to look back to see how Spike took that, for she had a telepath across the room giving her a real-time analysis through the expressions on her face. There was surprise when they’d first entered that faded into a slightly annoyed look lacking any jealousy as far as Twilight could tell. Odd, yes, but it didn’t warrant further consideration. Then she showed bashful pride when Twilight spoke, but that changed soon enough. Suddenly shy, she blushed and tried to hide herself behind Rarity’s legs.

Oh, it was going to be so much fun teasing those two.

Soon enough, proper introductions were made. Spike was adorably flustered when he introduced himself to Rarity, and the whole event only made Sweetie Belle flush more fiercely and stay out of his line of sight. It seemed someone had outright forgotten what Generosity did. Perhaps it was time to finally sit Spike down and teach him another language now that he had the proper motivation.

Sunset’s introduction passed with much less silent amusement, but judging by her smirk, she’d caught on to the little drama playing out in front of her. She didn’t comment – not in front of those involved, at least – but Twilight suspected she would be joining in on the gossip amongst the family tonight.

And with that, they were off to Canterlot.
> Chapter Twenty - Movie Night in Canterlot
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

With the last of the thieves teleported off to a holding cell, the ruins were hers to explore. With the recovered Key of Unfettered Entrance in her magic, no door would stand in her way. With no competing claims, whatever she found would be hers to keep.

“Now let’s see what on Equus these idiots wanted opened so badly that they’d steal such a ridiculously powerful artifact.”

Fully exploring the historical site without damaging it took hours, but at long last, she found it. Behind wards as powerful as they felt ancient, she discovered one of Star Swirl the Bearded’s workshops! It was a treasure trove of knowledge and artifacts the likes of which most ponies would never see. As usual, she’d need to be careful who she asked to help her sort it all lest something truly dangerous slip out to the public.

On her last sweep of the building, she noticed a strange indentation in the wall. She suspected that, in the workshop’s better years, it would have lain hidden and completely unremarkable amongst the resplendent wall carvings. She’d almost overlooked it even now when the stonework had crumbled, but it was too well preserved compared to its surroundings to hide forever.

Curious, she placed the Key of Unfettered Entrance into a perfectly carved recess in the wall. It fit snugly and flashed as it settled into place. Then a secret compartment in the wall that very much hadn’t been there before – she’d checked! – slid open. Inside lay a small pile of tattered documents.





With Cadance scrambling to finish her work for the day, it fell to Shining to collect the foals for movie night. Flurry happily fluttered up onto his back and landed with a heavy thump and an, “Oof!” from him. She was really getting too big to carry around, but he couldn’t deny that she had him wrapped around her not-so-little anymore hoof. Why did foals have to grow up? It’d been bad enough when Twilight had made the transition into marehood. How would he manage to let go of his own daughter when the time came?

Ocellus hesitated a moment before, with encouragement from Flurry, she transformed into a sparrow. She flew up to perch atop Shining’s head and nestled into his mane. When she’d first come here, she would have been far and away too reserved to do something so bold. His daughter was a bad influence, he feared, even if she had helped Ocellus somewhat with her shyness.

A sigh escaped Shining as he resigned himself to serving as the princesses’ personal carriage for the night. He supposed he might as well enjoy it while it lasted. Before too long, as was the way of things, she wouldn’t want anything to do with her lame, old dad.

At the gates to his home, Shining informed the posted guards that the entire family would be returning late as planned. He then looked up at the two ‘birds’ who followed Ocellus around perched atop the fence surrounding the property. He gave them a small nod, and they returned the gesture. Until he delivered their princess to their queen, he would take responsibility for her protection.

And with that, Shining teleported from his home to the great hall of Canterlot Castle. Ponies scurried about to and fro in a throng down the grand staircases, across the hall, and in and out of the adjoining corridors. Even as the workday neared its end for the vast majority of the staff, most everypony had last minute business to attend to before retiring for the night. It was just another day at the heart of Equestria’s government.

Shining himself had one such piece of business to see to before he joined up with the rest of his family. As he made his way up to his office, he nodded to those he encountered along the way who he counted amongst his friends. Most were fellow guards, but the occasional affable courtier or amiable noblepony also crossed his path. In between these brief moments, he ensured that Flurry knew to be on her best behavior. It wouldn’t just be family gathering tonight. Many of those present would be, of course, but not everyone.

Two guards stood sentinel at the door to Shining’s office. One, his friend Spearhead, smirked and remarked, “Hey, Captain, you know you’ve got a bird on your head, right? Maybe your back, too.”

“Yes, I seem to be picking up urchins.”

Her Royal Highness just giggled and wrapped her arms around Shining’s neck. As he cast the spells necessary to unlock and open the door to his office – a somewhat time-consuming process for security purposes – the guards greeted her both fondly and properly, and she returned the salutations as though nothing were out of place.

Shining left the door open as he walked inside. This wouldn’t take long. He was just here to double check that he’d updated the guard patrols properly to account for the greater attendance at this movie night. They’d needed to change rooms to fit everyone comfortably inside. Or at least comfortably as far as royalty was concerned. The theater they’d set up could easily seat a hundred ponies safely with plenty of leg room in other circumstances.

Now if I remember correctly, the file I’m looking for is…

Shining froze. As his eyes swept over his desk, he noticed a small orangish yellow envelope with a black border sitting upright in plain sight which did not belong. Worse, he recognized the design.

Leaping into action, Shining barked an order for the guards outside to come take Flurry from him. A quick flick of his head got Ocellus to flutter over to sit atop her instead before she dismounted. He wished them a pleasant night and asked them to pass on his regrets for being unable to attend. After Flurry agreed and Ocellus presumably chirped the same, he instructed the guards to take them to the new theater. Why did this have to happen tonight?

But defending the castle and everypony and everything inside it was Shining’s sworn duty. He’d not shirk it.

Shining thus approached the letter cautiously. Given that Twilight had some reason to worry about traitors, he wouldn’t risk the envelope’s design being nothing more than a mere ruse to lure him into a trap. The spells he cast to check for any dangerous magic all returned negative results, and when he checked for any dangerous chemicals, he found nothing. It was just a letter. And that, unfortunately, meant it was likely genuine.

With a muttered curse, Shining plucked the envelope from his desk. It was addressed directly to him in his capacity as the Captain of the Royal Guard. He ripped it open and withdrew the letter inside. It read thusly.

‘At the stroke of midnight, I will steal Celestia’s crown. Eclipse.’

The legendary thief had come to Canterlot.





“You know,” Twilight began in Old Ponish, “under ordinary circumstances, I wouldn’t have done that for you, but Shining deserves every moment he spends trying to figure out how ‘you’ got past his security.” She hadn’t left a trace of her presence in his office when planting Sunset’s ridiculous advance notice of her upcoming theft. With any luck, Shining would drive himself mad trying to figure out how it got there. It would serve him right.

Sunset chuckled. “Sibling trouble?”

“Hardly something so minor. He sent Flash to Ponyville to secretly watch over me.”

“Loyalty’s bearer?” Once Twilight nodded, Sunset added, “Serves him right.”

Twilight was so glad they were in agreement.

“Do you mind if I go take care of a few things? I can get to the theater on my own.”

With some reluctance, Twilight waved Sunset off. “Do as you wish, but I expect you to be there. If you send a magical construct, I’ll smash it on sight and then come drag you back by your ear.”

“I’d like to see you try,” were Sunset’s last words before she vanished from sight. With nearly full access to the castle, she could be anywhere already.

Twilight made a note to dispose of any security logs Sunset generated before she made her move. Most likely, nopony would check them before then as she wouldn’t be setting off any alarms. If somepony did, well, Sunset was a lady thief and a remarkably well prepared one at that. She could figure it out on her own.

“Darling,” Rarity said, reminding Twilight that she and the foals were waiting for her, “I’m sure your secret conversations are riveting – and I am curious, of course – but do we really have time for another diversion? Will Eventide be long?”

Having no idea how long it took to properly prepare for a heist, even knowing how Sunset intended to go about it, Twilight merely replied, “She’ll catch up,” before leading the group further down the corridor toward tonight’s theater. “She just went to go say hi to a friend who works here.”





Cadance just knew this was going to be the best night ever! It’d been too long since she’d heard a word from Twilight. They had so much to catch up on. Better yet, according to Celestia, the cute little filly who’d wormed her way into Twilight’s heart would be here as well. Rarity was a pleasure to speak with, although not the type of pony Cadance had expected Twilight to befriend, and she couldn’t wait to meet the little sister Twilight had taken on as a student.

But now was not yet the time for such daydreams. Cadance needed to finish just a tiny bit more paperwork before she could set aside her crown for the night. With how much her workload had increased lately, she wondered exactly how much work Celestia herself delegated to keep her own magic school running smoothly. Maybe the Equestria Education Association didn’t tie her up in as many regulations? She was Celestia, after all.

Regardless, educational administration, as it turned out, took a lot more time and effort than Cadance had expected even when only in the planning stage. It just didn’t help to have Chancellor Neighsay of the EEA sticking his nose into her business every other day.

Seriously, what is his problem? Cadance knew he held a less than pleasant view of every species but the three Equestrian pony tribes, but she was trying to help pegasi. Then again, it’s really the ingrained tribalism in our education I’m trying to combat. Is it so much of a stretch to assume he has some tribalist leanings as well? Either way, I suppose it’s still a direct challenge to current EEA policies and practices. I’m bound to have an uphill battle.

A knock came at the door to Cadance’s office. “I swear, if it’s the chancellor or his cronies again…”

One of the guards posted at the door stuck his head inside. “Your Highness, there’s a ‘Miss Sunny’ here to see you.”

Cadance dropped her quill in shock. It couldn’t be. “Send her in and see that we’re not disturbed.”

The mare who entered naturally looked nothing like the one Cadance remembered. The magenta coat and the orchid mane and tail were a far cry from her usual coloring, but then she could hardly waltz through the castle looking like herself, now could she? The cutie mark, however, was a dead giveaway. A cloudy sunset? A sunset obscured behind a cloudy facade? Surely that could belong to only one mare.

Cadance hopped from her chair and flew to land in front of the pony she believed to be her long lost elder sister in all but blood, heedless to the papers she scattered in her wake. It couldn’t be, but there she stood. There was one foolproof way to test it. Only three ponies in the world truly knew it by heart.

Lowering her center of gravity, Cadance hopped in place as she led into the secret hoofshake she’d invented as a filly. “Sunshine–”

“No,” the mare said flatly with immediate recognition.

It wasn’t really what Cadance had hoped for, but the inflection, that tone, and the posture were all unmistakable. She straightened back to her full height from the silly dance she’d started with all the confirmation she’d needed.

“Honestly, Cadey, you’re in your forties–”

That last word turned into a startled squeak as Cadance pulled Sunset into a fierce hug to make up for nearly thirty years of absence.

“Hey, come on. Let me go.”

The words lacked any force behind them, but Cadance still squeezed all the tighter and added her wings to the mix. There would be no escape. She brought her head up to nuzzle against Sunset’s, and to her delight, the mare relented and returned the affection. Sunset even slipped a hoof up to stroke against her mane. It brought back so many memories – too many memories.

“Where were you?” Cadance croaked out, her voice raspy and on the edge of failing. “I needed you. You – you were the only pony who – who–”

Sunset sighed but allowed Cadance to break down on her shoulder while she provided what comfort she could. They fell to the floor as Cadance’s legs gave out on her, but that only made for a closer embrace. Even so, it was different. Sunset hadn’t gotten any worse at this, but it felt so imperfect now that they were nearly the same height. They could have grown into this. They could have had each other through everything. Instead, they’d fallen apart, and it hadn’t even been because of anything between them.

As Cadance’s sobs slowly petered out, Sunset quietly said, “So? Married with kids, eh?”

“Just – just the one.” Cadance managed a watery smile.

“Not the point.” Sunset chuckled with a familiar dark humor. “Bet your parents threw a fit.”

Cadance laughed despite everything. “The biggest.” There’d been so many threats along the way, disownment amongst the least of them. “Twilight helped.”

“Oh yeah? Sounds like fun. I’ll have to get the story from her sometime.”

Yes, this was Sunset, all right. There could be no doubt. Cadance managed to pull herself together a bit more. Enough, at least, to form a few short but coherent sentences. “She was Shining’s best mare. ‘Dibs,’ he said.”

Cadance didn’t need to look to know the grimace that grew on Sunset’s face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”

“It’s okay. I managed.” That hadn’t been meant as a guilt trip. “I wanted you for my maid of honor.”

Sunset no doubt rolled her eyes. “Yes, with Sunbutt officiating, I’m sure that would have gone over well.”

“Not the point,” Cadance retorted with as much of a teasing air as she could put into her voice right now.

They sat there in each other’s arms for a few endless yet all too short moments longer before Cadance finally permitted Sunset to break away and return to her hooves. She watched the mare with a wary eye, prepared to pounce should Sunset try to vanish on her again. It was impossible, of course. The wards on the castle would prevent Sunset from slipping out unexpectedly, but she…

Cadance’s brow furrowed. She rose to her hooves and smoothed her ruffled coat. Now that she’d had her long overdue moment of catharsis, questions arose – lots of questions. “How did you get in here? What are you even doing here? Why now?” She knew Sunset was good, but between the guard and the wards, nopony should be able to sneak their way into the castle via means magical or mundane. The few changelings who came and went were the only exceptions after Twilight had patched that unexpected hole in security, and even then, either Twilight or Celestia specifically had to key them in to the castle’s defenses.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story. Short answer, Sparkles brought me for movie night.”

“What?” An instant later, it clicked that Twilight and Sunset knew each other. “What! You – she – I don’t…” Cadance collapsed back onto her rear. Her wings sagged at her sides. “Why her?”

Sunset, not a sign of guilt on her face, placed a gentle, reassuring hoof on Cadance’s withers. “She found me. Apparently, the changelings have been tracking me for her for years.”

That only brought up more questions – so many more questions. “Why?” A horrible thought occurred. “She’s not protecting you for me, is she?” That sounded like something she would do in secret knowing Cadance would object if she found out.

Sunset hemmed and hawed before finally caving once Cadance took to a stern glare. “Eh, I guess it’s going to come out tonight anyway. Remember that time she got lost at the Summer Sun Celebration?”

Of course Cadance remembered! She’d given her now in-laws a proper royal scolding after little Twilight had wandered up to her, lost and alone, just after Celestia had raised the sun. That experience had changed the poor filly. She’d become even more withdrawn and focused on her magical studies, and who could blame her?

Then again, in hindsight, Twilight hadn’t seemed particularly distressed when she’d reappeared, and that was long before she’d managed to get her anxiety attacks under control. In a situation like that, Cadance would have assumed–

The truth clicked. Cadance understood the implication Sunset had left hanging in the air. “You found her?”

“Yeah.” Sunset awkwardly looked away. “I made her promise not to mention me.”

Suddenly, so much about Twilight made perfect sense. Cadance buried her face in her hooves and groaned. “She latched onto you as an early role model, didn’t she?”

“Hey, I behaved! I could have just left her crying on the street.”

It was well over twenty years too late, but Cadance asked, “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing! Honestly, it’s like you think I go around stealing candy from foals or something.”

In answer to that, Cadance deadpanned, “Nightmare Night, nine sixty-eight.”

“Those brats deserved it, and you know it.”

While true, that wasn’t the point. Cadance just glared at Sunset again.

Eventually, Sunset relented as she had before. “Look, I calmed her down, took her for a ride, showed her some magic, and gave her some good advice. Maybe I got a bit into the whole ‘people are idiots’ routine–”

“Sunset!”

“Oh, come on! She turned out fine. Better than fine!”

Cadance heaved an exasperated sigh. Of all the nonsense to spout off in front of an impressionable young filly, of course Sunset just had to give Twilight the idea that most ponies just weren’t worth bothering with. Who knew what she’d be like had Sunset not justified her reclusiveness and validated her obsessive studies.

A hoof rubbing at her temple, Cadance said, “So let me see if I’ve got this straight. You corrupted my precious little sister.”

“I deny that.”

Cadance ignored Sunset’s objection and carried on. “She’s known where you were for years. She’s kept it from both Aunt Celestia and me. Knowing her, she’s probably covered for whatever trouble you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Maybe once or twice,” Sunset admitted.

“And now,” Cadance continued, “you two are…what? Hanging out?” And that while Twilight was in the midst of trying to make the Elements work?

Sunset waved her hoof back and forth and said, “Eh, more or less,” with a completely inappropriate cool.

“I see.” Cadance brought a hoof up to her chest, breathed in, and then let the air out as she extended her hoof in a smooth motion. She was calm. She was happy to have Sunset back. She wouldn’t lose her temper. Nothing she did now would change what had already happened. She pushed a smile back onto her face and asked, “So you’re here for movie night?”

“Well…” Sunset began.

Despite the decades, Cadance still knew that tone. They were both going to end up in so much trouble before the night was through. “Just tell me.”

“I may have a few errands to run while I’m here,” Sunset confessed with that devious smirk of hers. It hadn’t changed at all since Cadance had last seen it. “I promised Sparkles I’d spend time with everypony, and she promised me free rein of the castle. I thought I’d swing by your office first and catch up with my favorite princess. No pretending. No careful words.”

Cadance doubted she was Sunset’s favorite princess even after her infamous falling-out with Celestia, but Cadance smiled anyway and remembered fonder days. “Does that mean you want me to keep quiet tonight?”

“Yeah. We can chat, but I’m hoping to be in and out without Sunbutt catching on.”

Cadance bit her lip. It was classified information, but Sunset really should know. “You may not want to. Aunt Celestia has a sister, you see–”

Somewhat surprisingly, Sunset waved Cadance off. “Sparkles already read me in on the full situation. Sunbutt made her bed. Now she has to lie in it. It’s not my problem.”

As there was never any reasoning with Sunset when she got like this, Cadance let the matter drop. She didn’t want to spoil their reunion with a bitter argument or, worse, drive Sunset away. She thus instead finally offered Sunset a seat, plopped herself back into her extra comfy chair behind her desk, and then asked, “So what have you been up to during your time away?”

“Oh, you know. Scheming, mostly.”

Cadance rolled her eyes. When was Sunset not scheming something?

“You?”

With a shrug, Cadance said, “Fell in love. Got married. Had a foal. Wrote some novels. Decided to actually work as a princess.”

Sunset snorted. “That reminds me. Say the word, and I’ll bury your parents as deep as you want me to.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but no thank you.” Twilight had made a similar, though slightly less extreme, offer herself, but Cadance merely wished to wash her hooves of her so-called family. That part of her life was as over with as was practical, and she’d since found a better family for herself, one who’d welcomed her with open arms despite her baggage.

Yet in the darker corners of her mind, Cadance had to admit the temptation had its appeal. She couldn’t count how many times she’d cursed her parents. She couldn’t recall how many times she’d hoped for a tragic accident to orphan her. She hated to remember how many times she’d cried herself to sleep wishing she’d been born a unicorn. And everything had gotten worse after Sunset had left until Twilight rose to power. Celestia could only interfere so much without facing severe pushback from her own government.

But royal assassinations, no matter how deserved, weren’t worth the trouble. Her parents were old, anyway, and Cadance doubted anypony would step up to grant them an extra century or two of life through dedicated application of the magical arts. There were only a wingful of ponies she knew who could, and none of them bore those two any love.

Cadance shook off her dark mood and turned to brighter prospects. “Anyway, lately I’ve been working on a particular passion project of mine: a school for gifted pegasi.”

As it had Celestia, the idea caught Sunset by surprise. She recovered quicker, however, and chuckled. “Married a commoner. Spawned a pegasus. Now this?” She conjured a hat just to tip it to Cadance. “Let me know when you plan to spit on mommy and daddy’s graves.”

“I was thinking of dancing, actually,” Cadance replied in perfect innocence. She wouldn’t actually go through with it, but a little dark fantasy every once in a while was healthy for relieving such negative emotions. If nothing else, it certainly amused Sunset. “Regardless, Equestria inherited a unicorn-centric school system when education became a matter of public concern. I’m hoping my ideas can change the way we educate our pegasi on a national scale. It won’t be a fast change, certainly, but I think I’ll have the time to see it through to completion. Twilight says I’ve got at least a century left in me. More if I start exercising my magic regularly.”

“Ambitious. I like it.”

Of course that’s her reaction. Cadance shook her head fondly.

“Hypothetically,” Sunset began, “would you ever want to leave Equestria?”

Cadance arched her eyebrows. “Where did that question come from?” Nonetheless, when Sunset insisted she answer, she did. “No. Equestria is my home. My work is here. My family is here. My life is here. None of that will change anytime soon. Even if that weren’t true, I’m a princess, Sunset. I have responsibilities. ”

“You do know you’re technically not Equestrian royalty, though, right?”

That did ring a bell. While Celestia treated her line as an Equestrian one, Cadance did recall her parents mentioning something to that effect years and years ago. “Yes, I’m the princess of some long lost empire, aren’t I?”

“The Crystal Empire,” Sunset corrected, “of which you’re the Imperial Crystal Princess. And it’s coming back.”

“W-what?” Cadance felt herself pale. That couldn’t be. She didn’t want to leave, but she wouldn’t send her own daughter away in her place nor leave her parents to their own designs. “Surely not?” she tried.

Sunset, however, denied Cadance such sweet fiction. “The banishment spell Sunbutt and her sister cast over the empire will expire soon. Sometime in the next decade, and probably sooner rather than later.”

“No. No, surely Aunt Celestia would have told me if that were true.”

Sunset blew a puff of air from the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, sure.” She let that stand for all of an instant before moving on. “Anyway, Sparkles has already assured me Equestria will recognize me, but I like you too much to stomp all over your rights, however distant your claim may be.”

Rising from her seat, Sunset stepped forward. She then fell into a full formal genuflection as though Cadance were a head of state to whom she owed fealty. “Your Imperial Highness, I ask for you to renounce all claim to the Crystal Empire. Furthermore, I ask for your blessing to take the throne for my own. I will cast down the usurper King Sombra and liberate the empire’s people. I will not restore it to its former glory but rather usher it into the modern era with every resource at my disposal. I will be a true and faithful ally of Equestria for so long as our nations call one another friend.” After a long pause to let her request sink in, she added a final, “What say you?”

Flabbergasted, Cadance could only manage to tell Sunset to rise, but the mare remained stubbornly silent on two knees awaiting an answer. What was she supposed to say? She’d not given her line’s claim to a long forgotten throne any thought in her entire life. “‘Scheming’?” she eventually managed weakly.

Sunset smirked. “I’ve been preparing for this for a very long time. Be assured I’m very well equipped to defend and uplift your subjects.”

That was far more than Cadance had ever done. She hadn’t even bothered to learn the name of her empire.

And like that, her answer became clear.

“You truly want this?”

Sunset nodded.

“You swear to rule justly?”

Sunset didn’t hesitate. “To the best of my ability, I so swear.”

“Equestria and the Crystal Empire will remain friends – the closest of friends – regardless of any personal grudges?”

Sunset held her head high and answered, “I will not be the first to break our bonds.”

Cadance closed her eyes and took one last moment to breathe and reflect. None of this was on paper, and nopony except maybe Twilight and Celestia would believe Sunset over her, but her honor would not let her go back on her word once given. Sunset had attempted no trickery or deception, and she would offer none in return. Was this the correct decision for her empire?

Yes, it is.

Cadance rose to her hooves with all the dignity expected of somepony of her station. She then circled around her desk to stand in front of Sunset, whereupon she took the would-be empress’s full measure. Sunset neither flinched nor displayed her usual conceit under the scrutinizing gaze. Seeing her so serious was a rare and welcome sight.

“Very well,” Cadance began in full formality. This would likely be her first and last act as a member of the imperial family, and she had every intention of making it count. She would give Sunset the empire, but she would do it her way. Her parents would fiercely object, but if Twilight, Sunset, the entire empire, maybe Celestia, and she herself dismissed them, they wouldn’t have a leg to stand on. “Sunset Shimmer, if you wish it, I welcome you into the Crystal Imperial Family as my sister.”

Rarely had Cadance ever caught Sunset by surprise, but she certainly had with that declaration. The mare’s eyes widened, and her lips parted without words. Cadance committed the sight to memory. When she told this story someday, she would be sure to make mention of this moment in excruciating detail. Truly, royal adoption wasn’t that rare. It usually only occurred to ensure a smooth transition of power when a monarch lacked an heir, which she very much did not, but it still puzzled her that Sunset hadn’t at least considered the possibility.

“Furthermore,” Cadance continued as she forced herself not to crack a smile, “I bestow upon you the full right to inherit all lands, titles, and properties so associated.” Then because these things could become complicated if not spelled out ahead of time, she added, “Lastly, I cede any claim I have to the imperial throne and all rights therein to you, my elder sister, for so long as you abide by the terms to which you have heretofore agreed.”

Cadance managed a warm smile, if not a full one, as she thought of what this meant. They would be royalty of different countries despite the familial connection. Duty and distance would someday separate them once more. At least they could openly visit one another when everything settled.

“Do you accept the offer put before you?” This was Cadance’s price, such as it was, for stepping aside, but she wouldn’t force it onto Sunset. That mare had certainly gone out of her way to avoid adoption in her younger years.

“I…” Sunset wet her lips. “Yes.” All other words failed her, and that said more to Cadance than anything else.

Discarding decorum, Cadance wrapped an arm around Sunset’s neck and pulled her up onto her hooves and straight into a hug. “Rule well, my sister.”

Cadance felt Sunset swallow. “I’ll be sure to invite you to every Crystal Faire.”

Cadance had no idea what that was, which only proved how unfit an empress she would make. They would need to formalize this in writing at some point to satisfy all parties, but for now, she was happy to spend some time with the elder sister she’d always wanted until they had to get to whatever ridiculous ‘errands’ Sunset had in the castle.





In a rush, Moon Dancer scooped up all of the reports she needed to see delivered before she could clock out for the night, nearly half of them from Princess Cadance needing her to sign off on something. Not that the archmage, even a mere regent, ever officially got a real reprieve. They were always on call. Still, with a pile of scrolls, documents, and sealed envelopes, she hurried out the door.

The posted guards were kind enough to lock up Twilight’s office after her, so Moon Dancer took off down the corridor at a brisk trot. She weaved between traffic, hoping that she wouldn’t be delayed so long that she’d miss introductions. There were a lot of people she’d not met coming to movie night, and the last thing she needed was more social awkwardness from not even knowing who they were.

As Moon Dancer took a hard turn around a corner, she crashed straight into a maid moving at a much more sedate pace. They knocked heads and horns, and both of them went tumbling to the ground. Worse, the blow to her horn interrupted her telekinesis. The sound of paper scattering and scrolls bouncing filled her with dread, but at least the subsequent heavy thump meant most of her work had managed to fall in an organized pile to the floor.

“Ow…” A shake of her head cleared the stinging sensation in Moon Dancer’s horn. “Sorry. I should have been more careful,” she said quickly as she set about gathering her things. This was hardly the first time she’d dropped a stack of papers, and she knew a few spells to help her set things to rights.

“In a rush?” the maid asked. Moon Dancer didn’t recognize the voice nor the mare herself upon inspection, but given how many ponies worked in the castle, that came as no surprise. The only pony who might recognize everypony else was Princess Celestia.

Moon Dancer nodded absently. Paper and parchment flew through the air under the control of her magic. Sheet by sheet, scroll by scroll, letter by letter, the pile returned to proper order. Once the process was well underway, she said, “I’m running late. Again. And this time for a personal matter, not something I can reschedule.”

“Your Excellency, have you heard of delegation?”

For a moment, Moon Dancer froze. Then, upon realization, she blushed slightly. This wasn’t Manehattan University. She could just pass her grunt work off to somepony else without worrying about wasting her graduate students’ time. “Oh. Right. Sorry, I’m not used to having help, and I was just in such a hurry.”

The maid offered a friendly smile as she rose to her hooves. She extended an arm to help Moon Dancer to her own, and she gladly took it. Then the maid said, “Would you like me to deliver those? I have the time.”

Nothing in the pile contained particularly sensitive material, Moon Dancer recalled, so after a moment to double check her memory, she offered the maid a very relieved, “Thank you.” She passed off each document to the maid, from magic to magic, and one by one instructed her on where to deliver them. Lastly, she finished, “And this stack goes to Princess Celestia’s study in her apartment.”

“And that’s everything?” the maid asked.

Moon Dancer nodded. “Do you have any questions? No? Great. Thank you again for taking this off my hooves. I’m sorry to drop this on you and run, but I really need to get going.”

The maid assured Moon Dancer it wasn’t any trouble, and then she was off to the theater at a quick trot. It only occurred to her not long before she arrived that she probably should have asked for the mare’s name if for no other reason than to put in a good word with her boss.





The theater Princess Celestia had prepared for tonight had all the creature comforts Chrysalis had come to expect from Equestria.

In a side room far better lit than the main hall, the servants had prepared a wide array of snacks. The popcorn she especially appreciated despite it having zero nutritional value for her. She would have to ask after the recipe and ingredient sources later. It would do well for her to have them to serve it on the rare occasion she brought guests to Silver Bell’s mansion in Applewood for a private screening or party.

The lounge chairs had their own appeal as well, and if her chitin were as soft as pony skin, she might have greatly appreciated the massage function spelled into them. Considering her own size, however, she’d opted for one of the large floor cushions probably meant for lovers to cuddle upon. She certainly wouldn’t complain if somepony wished to fatten her up a little, but in the far more likely event she was left alone, she would otherwise stick to nipping at the stray affection that passed between family and friends.

At the back of the room sat the projection system upon a small table. It was an older model, she noted, meant for private viewings, but she could tell with nothing more than a cursory inspection that somepony had made a significant number of improvements. She suspected the absent prince consort had done the work, but perhaps either Princess Celestia or Twilight had made time for it. Regardless, considering the age, the attention it’d received, and the availability of newer models, the device was clearly well loved.

Chrysalis’s gaze lazily swept across the room, briefly lingering on each of its occupants before drifting onward. Besides herself, only three ponies had yet arrived, although she knew from the hive mind that Ocellus and her new pony friend would soon join them. Who knew when the archmage’s party would get here, however, and the miscellaneous attendees remained even more of a mystery.

“Your guests appear to be running late,” Chrysalis observed dryly.

Princess Celestia offered a resigned but patient smile in return. “An all too common occurrence, I fear. But better than the alternative in some cases.”

A snicker came from the other mare in the room, and she made some remark about Twilight’s former explosive issues with punctuality. Chrysalis wasn’t sure what to make of Twilight Velvet or her husband, Night Light. While Chrysalis knew perfectly well that Twilight came from humble origins, she tended to imagine something more dramatic. A tragic self-made orphan who threw herself into her studies to forget, or perhaps the bastard daughter of a legendary mage brought up by an eccentric recluse. Maybe Princess Celestia’s immortal but long lost lover returned in secret to rekindle their spark or, alternatively, her secret daughter raised in seclusion for her own protection.

That last one came the closest to believable. Those two certainly acted like a particularly tight-knit mother and daughter, and if Twilight ever told someone that she’d never met another pony before attaining her majority, most would simply nod and say, “Yeah, that makes sense.”

But reality sat before her in the form of two regular ponies. Velvet was a thrill-seeking philosopher who wrote fiction professionally, and Night Light had a quiet job in astronomy. They certainly explained Twilight’s love of science and literature, but so were they also dreadfully ordinary.

Chrysalis sighed inwardly. When she was young, the great sorceresses came from interesting backgrounds or, at their most boring, powerful lineages with access to ancient magics. In some ways, the world had become too tame for her liking. Her hive fed well in such peaceful times, but part of her would always long for the danger and adventure of her youth. Perhaps when Ocellus was older, she would take a holiday to the rougher corners of the world and leave the hive in her heiress’s hooves for a time.

The door to the theater opened, and after first moving through the corridor preventing light pollution, Moon Dancer arrived. In somewhat of a frazzled state, the hairs of her mane especially appearing wild and frizzy, she began to apologize for her tardiness before noticing how few guests were present. She adjusted her glasses and asked, “I’m not early, am I?” A glance at the dimly lit clock surely dispelled any such belief, but Chrysalis was prompt to inform her that everyone else was merely more late.

Moon Dancer was a strange case. She obviously looked to Twilight as a role model despite her half-hearted attempt to craft her own identity. Chrysalis didn’t need to taste the admiration rolling off of her when the subject of it arose in conversation to know that. She’d somehow managed to acquire most of Twilight’s more benign quirks without picking up any of the more unpleasant ones. It sounded like an improvement, but she just came off as quiet and relatively timid. Chrysalis did admit she had a shocking depth of knowledge on magical theory and an adequate ability to cast spells, yet her magical stamina and casting speed left much to be desired.

As the four ponies in the room chatted with one another, Chrysalis turned her attention to Ocellus’s presence in the hive mind. A nudge of her own against her heiress’s gave her an ETA no more specific than a deferential but clearly annoyed, “Soon.” With a pleased chuckle, she retreated from pestering Ocellus. If she’d known letting the nymph explore and meet ponies of all creatures would help develop her metaphorical backbone, she would have seen to it herself years ago. Clearly, Flurry Heart was a good influence on Ocellus.

Sometime not long later, Twilight’s party arrived and caused a major stir. It seemed Spike had undergone the molt earlier this morning and gained his wings. Not the best timing, that, but Chrysalis threw in her own congratulations. It was as big of a moment in a dragon’s life as gaining a cutie mark was in a pony’s. She doubted she would need to, but she would mention that bit of cultural knowledge to Twilight at some point during the night.

When Chrysalis drew attention to herself, the two new ponies – obviously sisters – reacted with only mild surprise, although the expected curiosity once pony skittishness departed remained to them. The younger she recognized as Twilight’s apprentice by Generosity’s presence, but the elder was an unknown. Chrysalis cast out for information in the hive mind as they made their introductions. Her resident changelings in Ponyville promptly flooded her with stories primarily about this Rarity’s fashion sense, vanity, ambition, and generosity.

As Princess Celestia called Sweetie Belle away to finally meet her student’s student, Rarity remained behind with a burning question that didn’t take long to escape. “Are you truly Silver Bell?”

Chrysalis absorbed some of the adulation leaking off of Rarity for a light snack. The good taste was likely what inclined her to give a full answer instead of merely confirming what the mare already knew. “For the most part, yes.” She ignored the squeal of delight. “I sometimes require a stand-in. As queen, my time is not entirely my own.”

“And nopony notices?”

“A few have, I’m sure, but I doubt their first explanation is to cry changeling.”

“True,” Rarity replied with a hint of self-reproach. It was the obvious answer when most ponies didn’t know changelings even existed. “Well regardless, would you mind answering a few questions? I must admit I’m dreadfully curious how you managed to create a formfitting garment that shifted with your monstrous transformation in Werepony of Canterlot. Does your own magic alter it, or was it the dress itself?”

Chrysalis blinked. That was far from the type of question she’d been expecting. After a few moments to consider it, she provided an answer with a bit of history. With centuries of ruined clothes left in their wake, a far more expensive annoyance in the past before the cost of textiles plummeted with the rise of manufacturing, she’d long ago commanded the hive to come up with a solution to the problem of transforming while dressed. The resulting spells were tuned to changeling magic, but Rarity listened with rapt attention regardless and likely intended to badger Twilight about it later.

For a while, Rarity asked strangely technical questions about Chrysalis’s theater work, most of which she chose to answer. A few were covered under nondisclosure agreements, an explanation Rarity politely accepted without protest. A few others required in-depth technical knowledge about some aspect of prop or costume design which she couldn’t care less about. None ventured near the blindingly stupid questions ponies tended to ask when they found out about changelings.

Chrysalis understood now why Twilight and Rarity were friends. They might have different obsessions, but they’d clearly recognized kindred spirits in one another.

Hoofsteps from the entrance drew Chrysalis’s attention. Princess Cadance entered with a weary look and a veritable storm of emotions swirling about her ranging from anger and exasperation to happiness and anticipation. Permeating the unstable state, however, was the clear presence of love. It colored everything with varying intensity. Chrysalis wondered what happened to put her in such a mood but quickly lost interest when Ocellus made her arrival known through the hive mind.

Flurry Heart, the littlest princess, fluttered in right after her mother bearing a plate of desserts with far too much sugar for a pony her size in her hooves. That might explain the tired look about Princess Cadance.

Regardless, the sparrow riding atop Flurry Heart’s head soon transformed into Ocellus, who then made her way over to Chrysalis for their reunion. The hive mind kept them in contact despite any distance, but it was always pleasant to be in one another’s physical presence, and Chrysalis had come to appreciate some pony customs. A hug from her most exalted daughter was always welcome.

“You have wings!”

It would seem Flurry Heart and Spike had bumped into one another.

“Go be with your friends,” Chrysalis insisted. “Sweetie Belle is with Princess Celestia as well. I’m sure she’s eager to meet you and Flurry Heart in person.”

Ocellus hesitated, but Chrysalis gave her a push toward the other children in the room. She gave her thanks – still far too meekly but better than it used to be – and promised to return later before scurrying off.

“Your daughter?” Rarity asked.

As ponies typically didn’t like hearing the specifics of changeling reproduction, Chrysalis simply said, “Yes.” It wasn’t untrue, and her relationship with Ocellus wasn’t that different from a pony’s with their offspring.

“She’s lovely.” From the stirring of Rarity’s emotions, Chrysalis knew she meant that. “Sweetie Belle has always kept such a small circle of friends. I’m glad to see her making more.”

Chrysalis was similarly pleased to see Ocellus happy, thriving, and integrating herself into the next generation of Equestria’s major players. Most likely, Sweetie Belle would end up the next archmage once Twilight’s patience for the job inevitably wore out. Spike would be around to influence the royal family indefinitely. Flurry Heart had a less certain role, but she was royalty from the right side of the family. What better group of friends could Ocellus find?

Joining the gathering group of adults, now segregated from the children, Princess Cadance said, “Shining won’t be joining us tonight. Apparently, he’s busy.”

Chrysalis didn’t miss the smirk that quickly passed over Twilight’s face.

“Then shall we start the movie?” Princess Celestia asked.

Twilight shook her head. “We’re waiting on one more.”

Chrysalis also didn’t miss the stirring in Princess Cadance’s emotions at the mention of this mystery pony. Clearly, she knew who would be joining them and held very mixed feelings about it.

“She should be here soon. If not, I’ll go find her.”





So far, the night had passed in relative quiet for a bustling castle. Unfortunately, being the heart of Equestria’s government, they couldn’t expel everypony but the guard, yet they’d secured Princess Celestia’s apartment well enough with plenty of time to spare. Shining doubted anything at all would happen until hours later at midnight. If Eclipse possessed no other virtues, at least punctuality remained to her.

As Shining paced outside the scene of the future crime, deep in thought, one of his more experienced stallions standing watch nearby approached. Shielded Strike, a veteran of both the griffon ‘campaign’ and Spike’s early years, gave a crisp wing salute and identified himself as an actual member of the guard via a secret code issued during briefing after everypony involved had been determined not to be impostors. Their thief’s MO involved disguises amongst her many, many other tricks and misdirections, and the last thing they wanted was her slipping past the cordon dressed up as a guard or spreading misinformation.

Upon Shining’s command to report, Strike said, “We’ve swept the room, Captain. No sign of tampering with the security. The only active magic is either the princess’s or the archmage’s.”

“The wards are still set to block all teleportation?” The princess had her own version unique to her that allowed her to slip in and out, of course, but Shining knew not even Twilight could drop in without walking through the front door otherwise.

“Yes, Captain, although if I may speak freely?” Shining gave the nod, and Strike continued, “Are you sure we shouldn’t inform Princess Celestia, Sir?”

Shining shook his head. “She gives of herself for all of us every day. This is her night off” – and potentially her last one in his lifetime – “and we’re not going to take that from her.”

That got through to Strike without any additional argument. He nodded and delivered a sharp salute before returning to his post.

Shining, meanwhile, returned to his pacing, although his thoughts lingered on what he’d said. This was their job. If they couldn’t defend the princess from a mere thief who, by all accounts, had never inflicted lasting harm on anypony, then what use were they?

It did trouble Shining, however, that Eclipse had picked tonight. Did she know that Princess Celestia cast aside her regalia, crown included, on these family nights? Did Eclipse know that one was scheduled for tonight? If so on either account, it meant she already had inside information. Conventional wisdom stated that nopony was stupid enough to try to steal from Princess Celestia, and while he wouldn’t put it past somepony as arrogant as her to try anyway, this was one of the few nights when she might actually have the tiniest chance of success.

Should we move the crown to the vault? After a few seconds’ thought, Shining discarded the idea. It was no doubt what Eclipse would be expecting, and she’d proven time and time again that locked doors meant nothing to her. The ones she couldn’t get through, she merely found a way around. He’d probably have better luck taking the crown out to the middle of nowhere and dropping it in a hole in the ground. That idea had merit, but he wouldn’t run the risk. It was too likely that Eclipse already had eyes on her prize one way or another, which made hiding it successfully an unlikely prospect.

Spearhead approached next. He had with him an uneasy-looking maid in uniform bearing a few scrolls and letters in her magic. Upon arrival he had the maid hang back for a moment to establish his identity. Once Shining gave his approval, he called her forward. “This is Quick Swirl. We checked, and she does work here. She has a few documents for Princess Celestia to deliver. We sent somepony off with the other ones she had in case you wanted to question her for a while.”

“They’re from the archmage regent,” Quick Swirl added with a nervous edge to her voice. “She asked me to put them in the princess’s study.”

“What she said.” Spearhead nodded toward the documents in question. “Figured you should check them out, Captain.”

Shining nodded and did as asked. From the seals alone, he strongly suspected they were genuine. Indeed, a quick check of the magic on them verified that, and when he examined them more closely for any magical tampering or other spellwork, he only found the standard security magic at work on them. “Thank you for the delivery,” he said as he took the documents into his own magic. No matter how innocent the maid was, there was no way he would let her past the cordon. “I know this isn’t part of your job. I’ll have a word with Her Excellency about it later.”

“Oh, don’t bother on my account,” Quick Swirl said. “She was in such a hurry. I volunteered after she crashed right into me.”

“Galloping in the corridors, then.”

Quick Swirl grinned slightly and almost laughed. The lightened expression, however, only lasted as long as it took for her to again notice the suspicious looks the royal guards moving about sent her way. Hesitantly, she asked, “Is something going on?”

“That’s a classified matter,” Shining replied, leaving no room for anything more to be said. “Thank you again for your delivery, but you do have to go now.”

With a nod, Quick Swirl allowed Spearhead to lead her off back the way she’d come without protest.

Shining, for his part, made his way to Princess Celestia’s study and deposited the documents atop her desk. She could deal with them tomorrow. Tonight – for her, at least – would be a night of relaxation.





Twilight stood waiting at the entrance to the theater alone but watching the interactions playing out before her and maybe doing a bit of eavesdropping with her magically enhanced hearing. It was hard to separate one conversation from the others, but she succeeded for the most part with some effort. Her time managing the Element bearers seemed to have turned her into something of a busybody. Then again, perhaps she always had been but had never congregated enough people she wanted to get along to care. Who would know? Regardless, she turned her attention between each new addition to the group to ensure all was well.

Moon Dancer sat on the edge of conversation, happy to listen but rarely participating as was her wont.

Rarity, to no surprise given her social grace, had managed to integrate herself with ease and was currently engaged in conversation with Velvet and Night Light about nothing of importance.

Chrysalis appeared content narrating some changeling tale to the foals all gathered around her.

Speaking of whom, those four had come together remarkably quickly. Twilight knew they all already had some level of familiarity with one another, but this was a nightmare scenario she had no power to stop. Worse, in time, Scootaloo would no doubt be joining them. All it would take is some excuse to move Apple Bloom to Canterlot to complete the set. She didn’t look forward to what chaos Canterlot’s troublemakers and the Cutie Mark Crusaders could unleash together with a young changeling queen’s assistance.

I really hope the city is still standing this time next year.

In less terrifying news, from what Twilight had observed, Celestia greatly approved of Sweetie Belle and had even taken the time to teach her a new trick earlier on. Twilight had expected it, but seeing it firsthoof meant so much more.

Perhaps best yet, Twilight’s parents had yet to bother her about looking for love. She didn’t think she could play it cool after embarrassing herself with Rarity, and she just didn’t want to think about where that would lead.

Hoofsteps approached from behind, and unless Shining had decided to come after all or some disaster needed their attention, it could only be one pony. Indeed, Twilight watched Sunset in her disguised form walk up beside her a few moments later while scanning the theater. There wasn’t so much as a hitch to her step nor a pause to her examination when her gaze passed over Celestia. She did briefly smile at Cadance, who noticed and offered a small wave in return, but the rest she politely dismissed.

“You’re late,” Twilight observed. They were almost all late, but that wasn’t the point. She wanted to hear what had kept Sunset.

Sunset, of course, clued in on that immediately. They took a step back into the corridor connecting the theater to the rest of the castle. There behind a silencing ward meant to keep noise out in both directions, she replied, “Your brother runs a tighter operation than I expected. I had to do a bit of research to find a temporary identity for myself.”

“Ah. That won’t come back to haunt anypony, will it?” Twilight doubted it, as Sunset had a track record of not framing anypony, but she felt compelled to ask.

“Nothing that a short investigation won’t clear up. Her alibi is rock solid.”

Satisfied, Twilight nodded her approval. “So what plan did you end up going with?”

Sunset had multiple options mapped out, although in order to alleviate the risk of leaving evidence behind, she had to choose but one to pursue primarily. In this case, she said, “The enchanted fabric trick. I slipped it into a delivery of official documents. Gave them to your brother personally to drop off.”

“Oh, Shining is going to kick himself so hard if he ever figures it out.”

That said, it was a very clever ploy to slip a spell past security, one Twilight honestly hadn’t thought of and might not have caught had somepony tried it on her before Sunset had offered an explanation. She couldn’t blame Shining for falling for it.

The first half of the trick was to create a magical artifact from a slip of fabric slightly incorrectly. Inert, magic wouldn’t flow through it, which made it harder to detect. And if one hid it behind an active spell such as the usual security magics placed upon sensitive official documents, something which Twilight had no doubt Sunset knew how to cast from her years with Celestia, it might not even show up at all on most scans.

Then the remainder of the trick was to activate the magic. Sunset used a chemical clock of sorts to eat away at the fabric until it destroyed the intentional design flaw in the artifact’s construction. Thus the spell activated sometime later with none the wiser.

“So you’ve already got the crown?”

Perhaps not surprisingly, Sunset replied, “Nah. I mean, I could have just snuck my way in and taken it, but where’s the fun in that? You know how I operate.”

Yes, Twilight did. Sunset was waiting to humiliate everypony involved and one alicorn in particular with a showy escape. So long as she made her move before Celestia retired for the night, she would probably succeed. If not, well, Twilight would wish her good luck.

On another note, as Twilight led Sunset back into the theater proper, she said, “You should speak with Rarity. She’s just getting into artificing.”

“Oh yeah?” Sunset eyed Rarity with interest and likely a bit more respect. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Rarity is a bundle of surprises. Give her a chance. You’ll probably like her.”

Now that they’d made their way into the center of the theater, all eyes were on the pair as the last of the introductions for the evening played out. Half the crowd had met Sunset in this form as Eventide. Chrysalis suspected her true identity, no doubt, but didn’t outwardly react. Cadance, however, did. She knew. Twilight eyed Sunset curiously from the corner of her eye before proceeding.

“Some of you know her already, but this is Eventide. Our time together was short, but she served as my mentor before Celestia.”

Approximately half the room showed some amount of surprise, Celestia perhaps most of all in her own subtle way. Most likely she’d spend some time processing and incorporating this new information before she moved to collect more.

“We recently reconnected,” Twilight continued, “and, well, we were opening this up to friends tonight, so…” She didn’t really have any more of an explanation than that, or at least not one without giving out information she shouldn’t share.

As Twilight trailed off into uncertainty, Celestia spoke up. “While I do want to hear why Twilight has never mentioned you when she clearly thinks so highly of you” – she sent a look Twilight’s direction, who in turn shifted uneasily on her hooves – “that can wait for another time. I would love to have a few words before the night is through.”

“I would as well, Your Highness,” Sunset said as though this were their first meeting. “Twilight has told me a lot about you.”

The mare in question just barely resisted rolling her eyes and calling Sunset a liar under her breath. At least it gave Sunset a good excuse if she happened to seem too knowledgeable about Celestia.

After a quick round of introductions to the ponies Sunset ostensibly didn’t know, Twilight settled down into a seat beside Cadance. It’d been too long since they’d had the opportunity to speak, and it was practically tradition to chat over whatever movie they ended up watching.

While the group voted over what movie put on first, Cadance leaned toward Twilight and had the first whispered word. “You’re playing with fire, you know.”

“Yes, I know. She came to see you?”

“Mm-hmm.” After a moment, Cadance’s eyes widened with a quiet, “Hey!” She smacked Twilight with a wing. “You gave away my crystal playground without asking me!”

Yeah, Twilight had expected that one was going to come back to haunt her. “Do you really want it? It needs a lot of love.”

“No, I officially relinquished it.” Cadance’s titter met Twilight’s surprised reaction. “Yes, she asked. She’ll take better care of it than I would.”

As good of a ruler as Twilight knew Cadance would make, she did have to admit that Sunset was far more prepared for the enormous burden of the Crystal Empire. An entire civilization over a thousand years out of time would pose no small task to get up to speed, and Cadance just didn’t have the necessary resources without leaning heavily on Equestria. Granted, Sunset’s wealth also came at Equestria’s expense, but it at least wouldn’t subsume the Crystal Empire in a crippling debt it could ill afford.

Cadance wrapped a wing around Twilight’s barrel and pulled them as close as their seats would allow. “Thank you for bringing her here.”

While their proper reunion hadn’t been part of Twilight’s expectations for the evening, she simply said, “You’re welcome.” This was too nice a moment to ruin with technicalities.
> Chapter Twenty One - The Phantom Thief Strikes!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Alicorn Amulet landed on the table with a heavy thud. She spared it just enough attention to attach a note reading, ‘Eat this. Do not wear.’ Her son would know what to do when he returned home.

In her room upstairs, she stumbled over to her bed. There she curled up into a ball with her tail tucked between her legs and a vacant look in her eyes. She couldn’t find it in herself to move, but somehow she still shook.

She’d almost died. She had died by some definitions. If she hadn’t had a polymorph spell as a buffer to reconstitute her body when it ran out of power–

No, those were bad thoughts. In the moment, she’d pushed everything down and pressed on. Too many ponies would have been hurt had she not. But now that she was alone to process everything, she realized something that should have been obvious all along.

She didn’t want to die.

She didn’t want to die today.

She didn’t want to die three or four centuries from now.

She didn’t want to die ever.

There had to be a way.





As the night wore on and they neared the end of another movie, Cadance found herself trapped in the middle of a potentially explosive situation. On her left sat Celestia. On her right, Sunset.

The former appeared as serene as ever to the uninitiated, but Cadance had spent too much time around Celestia not to notice the intense scrutiny and the growing irritation playing out across her face and in her voice during her polite interrogation. Who was this ghost from Twilight’s past to intrude upon the sacred bond of mentor and protégé without so much as a by your leave?

The latter proudly held the title for ‘most able to frustrate Celestia’ in both meanings of the word. Sunset had made an art of it, honing her skill to unheard of heights in those years before her abrupt departure. She spun the tale of Eventide, an old sorceress nopony had ever heard of who knew too much about everything but not enough about any one topic to not have an excuse for the knowledge. And none of those excuses were the obvious, simple explanation: because Twilight told her.

It was the seventies all over again, the only difference being those two weren’t screaming at each other. Even undercover, Sunset couldn’t resist baiting Celestia.

This time, however, Cadance wasn’t a small filly afraid to stand between two giants. She might not know why they always acted like this, but she could deescalate things before the inevitable shouting started. It was time to change the subject, and she had the perfect idea. “Auntie,” she began, and the pointless conversation stopped as both Celestia and Sunset turned their attention onto her. “I spoke with Twilight earlier, and she told me the most remarkable thing about my heritage. Empress is such a lovely title, isn’t it?”

Celestia blinked, and her head tilted to the side ever so slightly. “Your parents never – no, of course not. Forgive me, Cadance, but it never occurred to me that somepony else would need to inform you.” She paused a moment, her lips pressing into a thin line, before admitting, “Other matters have preoccupied my attention as of late.”

Most ponies didn’t think two or three decades counted as a short amount of time. Even so, Cadance gave her forgiveness for the truly very minor neglect easily enough. Then to banish the specter of Luna from Celestia’s mind, she teased, “After all, we have very different definitions of ‘as of late’, do we not?”

Celestia offered a yet apologetic smile. “What would you like to know?”

“Oh, anything, really.” Cadance hummed in feigned thought. “You’ve been to the Crystal Empire, I assume?” Of course, Celestia had. She’d probably been there at its founding as she had at its fall. “Eventide, any ideas?”

Naturally, Sunset had caught on to Cadance’s attempt to play peacemaker. It was obvious in the knowing smirk she flashed. Even so, she happily took advantage of the opportunity. “I’ve come across some mentions of the empire in my studies. There were some vague references to something called the Crystal Heart. Supposedly, it was the source of the empire’s power, but it was lost. Not destroyed, I suspect, but stolen. Perhaps it would be best to start there? What it is. What it’s used for. Any traditions surrounding it, such as the Crystalling Faire.”

Politely, Celestia said, “Your sources conflated the Crystal Faire and the Crystalling ceremony, two very different events albeit with similar purposes.”

Sunset nodded and accepted the correction to a mistake she’d obviously only made in order to not seem too knowledgeable. “Any information which might lead to its recovery,” she continued, “I think would beneficial for the future empress to hear.”

Oh dear. “This isn’t going to lead to a generations long family quest, is it?” Cadance knew how these sorts of things went.

The tired sigh Celestia let out somewhat belied the answer she gave. “It already has. The first of your line after the empire’s fall searched for longer than I care to recall. In the end, they found nothing but heartache. Were I to guess, the Crystal Heart is likely hidden somewhere in the capital, not somewhere you can currently access.”

“But when it returns?” Cadance pressed on Sunset’s behalf. “Surely the empire needs such an important artifact. Tell me everything you know.”

Celestia spared a glance at Sunset who sat listening with an air of casual interest. “As you wish,” she said. “Perhaps we should begin with the empire’s founding? I think you may see a reflection of your own struggles in its first empress.”

That actually sounded very interesting, and from the look Sunset wore, she’d not heard this story either. As such, Cadance gave the nod.

“It was only the fourth century of what would become known as the Harmonic Era. Civilization had gotten back onto its hooves after Discord’s reign. We survived. We learned. We expanded. Indeed, Equestria’s borders reached nearly to what you know them as today, which brought us into contact with all of our neighbors including the crystal ponies. They existed as a loosely connected collection of tribes on the edge of the Sea of Snow, as the Frozen North was known then. Luna and I intended to slowly integrate them into pony civilization, but events played out beyond our ability to predict.

“As the generations wore on, the crystal tribes formed into a coalition of independent city-states. They were…persistent in asserting their sovereignty.” With no attempt to hide her exasperation, Celestia added, “Both to Equestria and to each other,” and reached for the plate of cake she’d neglected during her earlier interrogation of Sunset.

Speaking of whom, Cadance sent Sunset a glare while Celestia was distracted. They would not be pursuing that line of inquiry just to make Celestia relive a part of history that made her reach for comfort food. Sunset silently pleaded innocent, but Cadance knew perfectly well she’d been on the verge of making her move.

“Regardless,” Celestia continued, unaware of the exchange that had just taken place, “life proceeded as it ever did. We traded. We warred. We intermarried. One day, in a remarkable fluke of genetics, a crystal unicorn was born.”

Cadance didn’t need the significant look Celestia sent her way to see where this was going.

“Her name was Amore, and she had no trace of crystal magic within her. Her people and mine thought her cursed, born as some hybrid monstrosity. The past, I fear, reflects well on few of us who lived there.” No doubt Celestia spoke from personal experience, being an alicorn, and possibly on both sides of the divide. “From what little she ever told me of it, her foalhood left much to be desired.

“At some point, she learned to harness her unicorn magic and set out into the Sea of Snow. She hoped to find the fabled ancestral homeland of the crystal ponies. There, with the remains of her people’s collective wisdom at hoof, she hoped to discover the answer to every question she’d ever had about herself. Instead, she found the Crystal Heart.”





Just before midnight in Princess Celestia’s study, a faint stirring of magic inside an envelope slowly grew in strength.





The clock ticked ever closer to the appointed hour within Princess Celestia’s royal apartment, one of the most secure sections of the entire castle. The Royal Guard, every single pony on duty they could spare and some more besides, stood ready to leap into action throughout the entire wing. Those stationed further out in the castle had been similarly briefed and prepared for action. Minutes turned into moments, and everypony present no doubt internally counted down the last few seconds. Shining certainly did.

Five.

It was at times like these that Shining wished he had more than a passing familiarity with dimensional magic.

Four.

According to his sister, stealing something from a properly protected bag of holding was nightmarishly difficult without first knocking out its caster, and he was no pushover.

Three.

This sort of theft had just never been on his radar before today.

Two.

He briefly checked one last time that the shields he’d surrounded Princess Celestia’s crown with remained at full strength.

One.

This was it. He knew the thief was already here as surely as he knew she would make her move at exactly the time she’d specified.

Zero.

The clock struck midnight. The first of its chimes rang out, a blaring siren in the otherwise utterly silent room.

And then a voice spoke. “Well, well, Captain.” It came from nowhere and everywhere at once, its source indiscernible, but there could be no doubt of its owner. It was at once silky, sophisticated, sultry, and suggestively svelte. By all eyewitness accounts, it could only belong to Eclipse. “I honestly expected your sister at least. She does seem like a mare who enjoys a, shall we say, magical challenge.”

Shining ignored the thief and directed the search for her, barking what few orders he must quickly and efficiently. They were trained for this. It might be a crown they were defending instead of the crown, but the same principles applied: identify the threat, locate the threat, and neutralize the threat. He’d not drop his guard against an opponent of her caliber.

“Oh well.” The voice coalesced from behind where the crown sat!

Shining spun, horn already building with power, and fired at the first and only target to enter his field of view.

It did no good. Eclipse, perched atop the shields protecting Princess Celestia’s crown, tilted her neck with a casual air. The spellbolt missed her by a hair’s breadth.

Slower on the draw, largely due to having to coordinate with one another, the first wave of fire came from the guard. The unicorns’ spells formed the core of the attack, aiming to incapacitate. The pegasi unleashed a barrage of lightning to close the net. The earth ponies stood ready to physically subdue the thief if she somehow made it past all that still standing. It was, in most cases, beyond overkill to capture a single pony.

Eclipse did not stand idle. She dodged and weaved with a nimble grace through the assault in a literally impossible display. There physically wasn’t room for her to do that. When the assault ceased, the room stood stunned.

Oh, horseapples! That little show might have fooled everypony else, but Shining knew how to identify more magics than most anypony alive thanks to his sister’s obsessive studies. He’d drastically underestimated Eclipse. They were dealing with a full-blown sorceress! No wonder no local police force could catch her.

In the lull, Shining took a moment to observe the infamous so-called lady thief. Were he a less disciplined pony, he might have found her beauty disarming. The rumors and witness testimonies truly did her no justice. Waves of inky blackness spilled down across a brilliant orange coat with a figure that would make even Cadance take notice. Her smirk sat on a bewitching muzzle, and her blue eyes drew a pony in and captivated them.

There was no way any of it was natural.

True to form, Eclipse had dressed as impeccably as impractically to highlight her shtick. Granted, she wisely favored a feminine suit that tightly hugged her form over a dress, but the cloak was just dead weight and easy to spot. Moreover, she had the hood down to show off her face.

“Do try to keep up.”

As Eclipse said the words, Shining signaled his ponies to fire a second volley. They couldn’t catch her, not here. Neither he nor anypony else present had the prerequisite knowledge. But they could exhaust her and buy time while he recruited somepony who did.

In the split second that followed, Eclipse’s hoof reached down through Shining’s shields as though they weren’t even there to grasp Princess Celestia’s crown. This she flung like a Frisbee toward the door as the second wave of spellfire barreled toward her. Nopony being quite prepared for such an audacious move, only a few managed to attempt an interception.

All efforts proved pointless. In a fluid motion, Eclipse swirled her cloak about her, somehow vanishing into it with the cloak disappearing into nothing thereafter. The net meant to capture her did nothing, of course, and the crown proved to be a mere illusion when it passed straight through a pegasus in the air. Unless it wasn’t and she’d managed to pull off an intangibility trick.

Shining followed the illusory crown’s arc to Eclipse, who stood waiting patiently for it at the door. It landed perfectly atop her head around her ears. Forged for a mare twice her height, it was comically oversized, but she left it there. It would be easier to recover it with it so unsecured, but that wasn’t the point, now was it? She was showing off.

“Well, you tried,” Eclipse said with a thoroughly disappointed air about her. With an, “Adieu!” she hurried off on her way out of the castle.

The Royal Guard neither stood stunned nor lost its cool. They moved with a hard-earned efficiency to cut off Eclipse’s escape, but it wouldn’t be enough. This wasn’t something the Royal Guard had the expertise to deal with. This was something they passed on to the EIS or the archmage.

But the corridors were still crawling with guards. Eclipse would have to get through them, and that would take precious time. If Shining acted quickly, he might be able to turn this around.

Before he teleported away to seek aid, Shining informed his lieutenants of the true level of skill their quarry possessed. They were dealing with a dimensional mage.





From the corner of her eye, Moon Dancer noticed Twilight rise to acquire more popcorn from the snack room. Quickly and quietly excusing herself from a conversation she was only peripherally part of, she followed after. She wanted a private word before tonight ended, preferably with enough time left over for Twilight to sit down with Princess Celestia and offer her support or something. In perfect frankness, Moon Dancer had no idea how to help the princess with her despondency as Twilight had asked her.

Once on the other side of the theater’s silencing wards, Moon Dancer increased her pace to a trot. She caught up to Twilight in the side room still filled with desserts on display across multiple counters, some magically chilled to remain frozen until taken and others kept warm. The cake, notably, had vanished rather quickly until there was naught left but crumbs.

Moon Dancer spoke over the sound of fresh popcorn popping. “Hey, can we talk for a minute? It’s important.”

Twilight, as her magic set to refilling her drink while she waited for the popcorn machine to finish, offered a shrug and a simple, “Sure. Is this about the job?”

“Well, kind of. But not exactly.” It wasn’t part of the archmage’s duties, but Twilight had partially recruited Moon Dancer for it. “I’ve been trying to cheer up Princess Celestia, but she’s only getting worse.”

Twilight breathed a soft sigh, her shoulders drooping. “Yeah, I know. So long as you’re not letting her do anything too self-destructive, it’s fine.”

It’s fine? “It’s fine? It’s not fine, Twilight.” How could she say that? “She’s hurting, and feeling guilty, and depressed, and – and I don’t know what to do.”

“Neither do I,” Twilight admitted. Her now filled cup floated over to her, and she took a slow sip. “The root cause of it is guilt. The only pony who can absolve her of it isn’t interested in doing so.” After a pause, she added, “In hindsight, I might have made things worse.”

Moon Dancer took a shot in the dark. “By leaving?”

“No.” Twilight paused, reconsidering. “Well, I mean, that probably hasn’t helped, but I’m juggling as many balls as I can. Regardless, there’s something else.” As the theater was already warded against external magical eavesdropping – a necessity Moon Dancer had seen to herself – Twilight merely cast a scrying spell to forewarn her if anypony was about to walk in on them through the door. “Not a word to anyone of this.”

Without hesitation, Moon Dancer nodded her agreement.

“For the sake of brevity, I’ll omit context. Suffice it to say, it turns out, when Celestia banished her, Luna was only experiencing an extreme emotional breakdown. Nightmare Moon and eternal night are just something she said in anger and rolled with to save face.”

Moon Dancer snapped her gaping mouth shut. That changed everything. “That means she… Oh Celestia, a thousand years of banishment over a tantrum!”

“Eh, not quite,” Twilight said. “There’s no telling how things would have played out. Luna might have done some serious damage to the world before she cooled down. You know how bad my anxiety attacks used to get, right?”

Moon Dancer nodded. She’d witnessed one in the archives when they were fillies. Twilight had thought she wouldn’t finish an assignment in time, and the results hadn’t been pretty. So much magical power in the hooves of somepony experiencing an episode like that never ended well. Curious, however, Moon Dancer asked, “Used to?”

“Ah, yeah. Celestia pounced hard on them. It took…longer than I wanted to get them under control. And there’s magic involved. And I hide my other lingering issues.” Twilight faked a cough and then pushed a faux grin onto her face. “But hey! You have a responsible archmage now who won’t fly into a panic and try to invent time travel or something because she forgot to return a library book. Or some such nonsense like that.”

Eyebrows arched, Moon Dancer wondered if Twilight had actually tried that. It was an awfully specific example.

Twilight ignored the silent question and carried on. “So yeah, think that, but blinding rage instead of anxiety. After hearing both sides of the story, I kind of get what Luna went through. It’s not an excuse, of course, but I get it. She still has anger issues to work out, but given her circumstances and how relatively new psychotherapy is, she’s done remarkably well.”

It took less than a second for Moon Dancer to pick up on the implication. She dared to ask, “Have you been…talking to her?”

An answering, “Mhm,” met the question. Twilight then added, “Luna is dreamwalking. It shouldn’t be possible. The banishment should have sealed her away completely. But she is.”

How was Moon Dancer supposed to react to that information? It was huge, but at the same time, she didn’t see how it affected anything she needed to do either personally or as the archmage regent. But if nothing else, that explained why Captain Armor had launched a massive internal investigation on Twilight’s order. If Princess Luna could communicate with the outside world, she could organize anything from a peaceful protest to a violent coup.

“Anyway,” Twilight continued, paying no mind to Moon Dancer’s shock, “I told Celestia right away. She was happy, of course. Her sister was as well as could be expected. But, well, as you said, a thousand years over a tantrum.” She heaved a sigh before bringing her drink to her mouth to wet her throat. “At any rate, I’m doing what little I can to help Celestia stay positive. Let’s just say I may have introduced a new variable into the equation.”

Moon Dancer gladly shoved aside the enormous revelation Twilight had dropped on her for a simpler puzzle. What new variable had Twilight added? The answer seemed obvious. “Sweetie Belle?”

Twilight offered a small smile but made no further reply.

It took more than a few moments for Moon Dancer to process everything. Their immediate goals and tasks hadn’t changed one bit, but the context had shifted radically. The good news, at least, was that the fate of the world likely wasn’t at stake. She could take solace in that.

Abruptly, Moon Dancer asked, “So what is she like? Princess Luna?”

Apparently, while Moon Dancer had been lost in thought, Twilight’s popcorn had finished popping. She paused in the midst of scooping it into her bowl. “She’s…” Eyes close, she bit her lip and sank deep into thought. The seconds passed until what felt like nearly a minute had elapsed. Only then after considering her answer carefully did she respond. “She’s fun. Intelligent. Friendly and forthright. Fierce in battle. Cultured. Studious. Protective.”

That was a surprisingly glowing review for somepony who wanted to take Princess Celestia away from Twilight.

Twilight paused to visibly weigh if she should continue before ultimately deciding to go ahead. “Temperamental. Sly. Opportunistic. Loyal to a fault.”

Now that was more what Moon Dancer had expected. Twilight mumbled something more about loyalty, but she neither caught it nor had time to ask about it before Twilight’s gaze snapped to the door. “Oh great, he’s here.”

Curious, Moon Dancer moved to poke her head out through the doorway into the corridor. There she just spotted Captain Armor headed for the theater before he turned the corner. Oddly, he was dressed for battle in full armor. What was that about? Twilight only muttered something about getting his just desserts when she asked aloud.

Not long later, Captain Armor entered the snack room. Before he could get a single word out, however, Twilight said, “No. I’m still mad at you. Clean up your own mess.”

Not deterred, Captain Armor said, “Twily, it’s important. I really need your help.”

Twilight, in perfect maturity, stuck her tongue out and teleported away to who knew where. Moon Dancer could tell from the amount of power used that she’d vanished to somewhere in the castle, but she’d certainly not gone back out into the theater.

In turn, Captain Armor swore under his breath.

Not being involved in whatever all that was, Moon Dancer said, “Uh, excuse me, Captain Armor, but might I be able to assist?”

“Can you cast dimensional magics in combat?”

Moon Dancer shook her head and offered an apology for her lack of ability. Casting speed had never been a priority of her studies. As she’d told Twilight, she wasn’t the adventuring type. Another pony did come to mind, however. “You could ask Starlight.”

As soon as the name came out, Captain Armor made a sour face. It certainly wasn’t the first time Moon Dancer had noticed his less than warm feelings for the members of the Evening Guard. She supposed it did make sense. He was law enforcement, and even the cleanest record amongst them would still stain everything it touched. Starlight’s in particular was one of the worst of the lot.

Nonetheless, Moon Dancer carried on with her suggestion. “I’m sure she can do what you need.” She’d seen Starlight engaged in a light spar with Tempest to get back into form after her stay in the hospital. She was good.

“Fine,” Captain Armor grumbled, the resignation clear in his voice. Whatever was going on must be urgent if he’d capitulated so quickly.

With a flux of magic, Twilight reappeared with a thick stack of documents. She tossed them at Captain Armor, who only barely caught them before they scattered. “Here,” she said. “I checked the security logs from the castle wards for you. Judging by the blatant doctoring, somepony is going to be in trouble once this is over. Good luck.”

Moon Dancer eyed the pile of paper warily as Twilight all but stomped off back out into the theater with her popcorn in tow floating alongside her. Falsely gaining access to any part of the castle wards should be impossible, let alone the heart of them where they recorded any interactions they had with the castle residents. Then again, if dimensional magic were involved, a pony might be able to slip past any protections with some careful application of spatial warping. It would be beyond difficult, but a sufficiently skilled sorceress could pull it off.

Tomorrow at the inevitable after action report, Moon Dancer would have to recommend adding a full dimensional anchor over the entire castle. It would be massively inconvenient for Princess Celestia, Twilight, and a few others who regularly made use of such conveniences as subspace storage and teleportation, but it would plug that sort of security hole. They could decide if it was worth the cost on their own.

Then again, knowing those two, they probably already had years ago.

Captain Armor cleared his throat, startling Moon Dancer out of her thoughts.

“Er, sorry. Did you still need something?”

“Do you know where Starlight Glimmer is right now?”

“Oh, I think she’s in the archives.” Most of the Evening Guard was out and about, but Starlight and Tempest were stuck in the castle until the former’s medically mandated holiday ended. It was just as well, really. Having those two around made Moon Dancer’s life so much easier. They knew exactly where everything and everypony was as well as who to call upon for any task, which vastly sped up the response time to every major magical emergency in Equestria during her regency. “If not, check the hospital wing.”

Captain Armor uttered a gruff, “Thanks,” before teleporting away.

Right, well…I guess that’s that. Left with little clue as to what the emergency was, Moon Dancer briefly hesitated to rejoin the others in the theater. She wanted to help, but it sounded like a combat situation. If so, she’d just get in the way. As such, she opted to go back to the movie and found a seat beside Twilight at the end of a semicircle consisting of them, Princess Cadance, Princess Celestia, and Eventide. Somehow, the latter two had gotten into a debate about wild weather of all things which had grown a little too heated to be entirely friendly.





It only took moments to find Starlight Glimmer in the archives. All Shining had to do was head straight to the most dangerous and easily misused books on magic outside of the restricted section. For whatever reason Twilight allowed those scoundrels of hers the run of the castle, she at least retained the good sense to bar their entry there without explicit permission from herself.

Shining slammed his forehooves on the table Starlight Glimmer was reading at, although he moderated his force to something more appropriate to a library, so the effect was somewhat ruined. The inkwell didn’t spill. Her stack of books didn’t fall over. Her quill didn’t even smear ink across her notes.

Starlight Glimmer looked up from her work with a curious arch to her brow. She wore a distinctly amused look about her, an unfortunate consequence of Shining’s appropriately subdued approach. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

“The crown requires your immediate assistance. We’re to set a thief to catch a thief.”

“I was more of an evil overlord,” Starlight Glimmer replied with far too much light-hearted sarcasm. The smile she wore at her own poor attempt at humor fell under Shining’s utterly unamused glare. “Right,” she muttered as she closed her books and corked her inkwell. “I’m supposed to take it easy on my horn, doctor’s orders, but I’ll do what I can. What’s the situation?”

“Eclipse is in the castle.”

Eyes wide, Starlight Glimmer asked, “The Eclipse?”

Shining nodded. “We have at best a couple minutes before she escapes. She’s a dimensional mage, and she’s tampered with the castle wards in an unknown manner. Ready?”

“No. One moment.”

Without a word more, Starlight Glimmer teleported away. Why Twilight had given her permission for that, he would never know, but it worked to their advantage here considering what they were up against. She returned perhaps fifteen seconds later with another one of the louses in tow.

Fantastic. Shining looked from Tempest Shadow to Starlight Glimmer. “Ready now?”

Nodding, Starlight Glimmer replied, “Lead the way, Captain.”





Why does it always come to this?

Despite her very best efforts, Sunset and Celestia had managed to get into an argument over nothing. Cadance didn’t understand it. Celestia just didn’t do that, not with anypony except Sunset. She could be stern when somepony did wrong. She could be intimidating at the negotiation table. She could be vicious in the defense of those she loved. But this petty, prickly peevishness only ever came out around Sunset.

On the other hoof, Sunset…was Sunset.

“For the last time, who cares! Wild weather follows a predictable pattern if we would just study it. I can write down all the equations that govern it right now.” Just to prove her point, Sunset cast an illusion filled with more mathematical symbols which Cadance didn’t recognize than those she did.

Celestia remained unmoved and unimpressed.

In turn, Sunset pointed to each equation as she listed them off. “The ideal gas law. The equations of motion. The continuity equation. Conservation of mass. The first law of thermodynamics. That’s it.”

“Weather is more complex than what you have here,” Celestia countered, her own magic adding more terms to the equations. “You cannot use the simplified forms and expect accurate predictions further in advance than mere seconds. The boundary conditions rarely behave nicely, and the input into the system due to magical effects is nontrivial.”

Sunset no more backed down than Celestia had. “Obviously,” she replied, the eye roll clear in her voice if one missed it on her face. “That’s why I said we have to study it so we can fill in these terms. The exact integration is painful, if not impossible, but we only need approximate results for, say, a week in advance. There are plenty of satisfactory numerical methods to do that. Then repeat with new data the next day. We could save billions in weather management if we slightly loosened our hold on our environment.”

“A pleasant thought,” Celestia replied dismissively. “But weather prediction is not the same as weather scheduling. Equestria implemented a fully managed weather system for a reason.”

“It would be a close enough approximation that the overwhelming majority of ponies wouldn’t notice the difference,” Sunset protested. “The average pony has no say in the day-to-day weather anyway.”

“And for good cause! Sunny summer skies every day? An endless breezy autumn morning? Pleasantly rainy moons in spring? A fresh blanket of snow throughout winter? Why even have seasons? The average pony has little regard for the common good.”

“Only through lack of education.”

Celestia snorted, her rare cynical side surfacing. “If only I could educate my little ponies on every subject. Not everypony cares to have an informed opinion about everything.” That was definitely a verbal thrust at how ‘Eventide’ knew too much.

Sunset, of course, casually sidestepped explaining herself. “That doesn’t refute my point. It may be bad optics to guide the weather instead of crafting it, but properly done, the majority of ponies won’t actually notice the difference.”

“Having lived through centuries of wild weather, I think you vastly underestimate how volatile it can be. Moreover, this would put tens or even hundreds of thousands of pegasi out of work.”

That last part was certainly true, but Sunset had an equally valid point. “Who cares? They’ll find new jobs. Equestria has the world’s healthiest economy by far. There’s a place for everypony somewhere. Besides, how many of them actually want to be in the weather industry and how many have no choice? For many pegasi, weather is all they know. It’s so institutionalized in our society, it probably sucks up opportunities elsewhere for them.”

Cadance buried her head in her hooves with a groan. That was one of her own arguments for changing pegasus education and their cultural perception. Those two were so consumed with each other that they didn’t even notice her reaction. She needed to find a way to fix this, but they weren’t listening to anypony at this point.

A hoof on her shoulder caught Cadance’s attention. She turned her head and followed it back to Twilight.

Despite her sympathetic look, Twilight leaned closer and quietly said, “Just let them go at it. I doubt it’s Eventide’s intention, but it’s good for Celestia to have a little fire in her blood right now, don’t you think?”

Auntie has seemed a little down lately with the whole Nightmare Moon situation. Even so, Cadance didn’t think it was healthy to cheer her up like this even in the short-term. Maybe, though, it would turn out all right in the end.





It was the first time Flash felt the odd tugging sensation on a part of him he wasn’t able to identify, and it vanished before he had time to explore it. It took him far longer than it should have to figure out what it meant, but once he did, he knew he was needed elsewhere.

Flash tossed aside his cards and scanned the room for something he could use as a weapon. There wasn’t much, seeing as he was playing poker in his off duty friend’s apartment, but eventually his eyes landed on a spear half-buried beneath a pile of blankets. He promptly borrowed it without permission, ignoring the questions his friends in the guard sent his way, and once ready, apologized for his abrupt departure from their poker night.

Concentrating on the pull from Loyalty, its power teleported Flash from downtown Canterlot to where he was needed most. He quickly took in his surroundings and placed himself somewhere in the middle of Canterlot Castle. A few moments longer gave him all the time he needed to recognize the corridor by the paintings on the wall. He was on the ground floor not far from the kitchens.

Unfortunately, that was all the time Flash had before the friend he’d come to support tackled him out of the center of the corridor. Shielded Strike pushed him flat against the wall and then pinned him there. “Your mother’s best recipe?”

“What?

“Name it,” Strike pressed.

Once Flash had properly processed the question, only one answer came to mind. “Triple chocolate chip oatmeal cookies.” They were the best, and he never shared them with anypony when his mother sent them.

Strike freed Flash from the hold pinning him to the wall.

“Sit-rep?”

Not mincing words, Strike quickly summarized the situation. “We’re pursuing Eclipse. The thief. Disguises. Misdirection. Dimensional magic. We run distraction. Nonlethal only. Do not escalate. Tempest, Starlight, and the captain are the primary combatants. Keep your cool when she levitates you your flank on a silver platter.”

Flash swallowed but gripped his borrowed spear tighter. Somepony who could keep up with those three with the entire Royal Guard harassing her the entire time could probably give the archmage herself a run for her money. Only recalling that Eclipse had never hurt somepony in her heists kept him from quaking at the thought of facing her.

With no more than a shared resolute nod, Strike took to the air and flew through the corridors at a careful but fast pace. Flash followed behind him, and it wasn’t hard to figure out where they needed to go. Eclipse had only just passed through, and the chaos of panicked civilians and the occasional recovering guard left an obvious trail in her wake.

If that weren’t enough, the corridors were littered with random spells that, while they had missed their mark, had struck something nonetheless and played out their intended effects. More than a few ponies peacefully slept on their hooves, unattended shields lingered in the air, and Flash even spotted a vase covered in magical chains. The few oddities he actually noticed as he flew past probably paled in comparison to the number he missed due to his lack of a horn. Most magic wasn’t that flashy.

Then the pair caught up with both the guard still standing and the battle in their midst. Flash had witnessed the archmage turn back the Griffon Kingdom in an overwhelming display of magic. He’d gotten a front row seat to the long slog of a fight she’d had with Trixie. This was like nothing he’d ever seen before.

Captain Armor stood on defense, playing to his strengths. He turned aside whatever spells Eventide threw their way with his shields or teleported the core group of combatants to safety. This was the first time Flash had ever seen the captain fight all-out, and now he understood how somepony so young had risen through the ranks so quickly.

Starlight Glimmer, well, Flash wasn’t sure what she was doing. Her horn glowed a ceaseless, brilliant cyan, however, so he supposed she was doing something important. The strain of whatever it was certainly showed on her face. She might even be hurting herself in the process.

Tempest Shadow was on offense, slinging spells meant to confine and constrain in her attempt to subdue Eventide, which struck him as odd. The Evening Guard and the Royal Guard had few professional interactions, but Flash could have sworn her fighting style favored close-quarters combat via melee spellcasting and mixed martial arts.

It didn’t take long, however, to see why Tempest Shadow wasn’t in close with Eventide. Flash could see it, but he didn’t understand it. His brain required many long seconds for it to even begin to parse what his eyes insisted was happening despite Strike having explicitly informed him already.

Space warped around Eclipse as she danced through the corridors with a confident flair and a smirk on her face while wearing Princess Celestia’s crown of all things upon her head. Physical obstacles proved no hindrance. Attacks that should have struck true instead bent around her and, more often than not in the case of spells and projectiles, went flying off toward a member of the guard. Captain Armor managed to intercept most of them. Some he didn’t. Every time a guard got back to their hooves, another fell victim to friendly fire.

On occasion, a spell from Tempest Shadow would bypass Eclipse’s warping of reality. That, Flash assumed, must have been Starlight Glimmer’s task. The guard was meant to divide Eclipse’s attention. Those two were the true threat.

But it was no good. Eclipse knew more than just dimensional magic. Granted, Flash had no idea what, but she nonetheless blocked, countered, or dodged anything she didn’t redirect.

How could somepony so talented choose a life of mere thievery?

The worst part, Flash realized, was that if she wanted, Eclipse could have escaped already. She was humoring them, playing with them, humiliating them. He could see it in Captain Armor’s scowl.

“What’s the plan?” Flash asked. He got the general gist of it just from watching the battle unfold, but good coordination with everypony else lay in the details.

Strike’s irritation shined through in the glare he directed at Eclipse and the gruffness of his voice. “Wait in line. Get our flanks kicked. Get up. Repeat.” He nodded toward where they should join the ranks above an earth pony detachment. As they moved into position, he added one last instruction. “Hope the captain’s group brings her down before she leaves.”

A snicker escaped Flash. What a plan. But it was better than nothing, even if it depended on Eclipse’s arrogance giving them a chance to capture her. Not that he blamed the captain. They obviously needed Twilight present to have a fair fight.

Flash and Strike joined the rest of their on duty – and not disabled – squad. Strike gave some password and vouched for Flash’s identity. Nopony asked why he was here and barely equipped for battle. Nopony cared. It just didn’t matter right now.

When the time came, they moved as one. Flash built up an electric charge just large enough to incapacitate without causing serious harm. He held his spear, designed specifically for pegasus use, firmly in his hooves and struck, quick and true. The lightning held in him surged through the weapon and unleashed with a great crackle through the tip.

As he should have expected and would from this moment on, Flash’s rigid spear curved away from Eclipse. The shaft remained straight in its own reference plane, no doubt, but the altered space bent it back onto him whereupon, naturally, the lightning struck him instead. The resulting spasm of his muscles, even resistant as pegasi were to such things, made him fall to the floor and drop his spear in a twitching heap.

As he fell, however, Flash saw a brief change in Eclipse’s expression. Her eyes snapped momentarily to his chest, or rather to what lay against it.

I think she recognized Loyalty.

Later, Flash would realize that was an important clue to her real identity. There were few ponies with her level of magical talent and even fewer who knew about the Elements of Harmony. That put her on a very, very short list the captain might be able to narrow down even further.

For now, however, Flash needed to get his legs to stop twitching.





“And just what do you think the Crystal Empress is going to do in the Frozen North, hmm? The Crystal Heart will stabilize the region’s magic, but it won’t manage the weather. Without a massive pegasi population, the best they can manage is to combat the dangerous conditions on the borders of their hinterland.”

“Equestria will be perfectly willing to lend a helping hoof.”

Oh, that was a poor argument to make. With most anypony else, Celestia would have scored a major point, one which would have led into an economics discussion, but this would backfire on her hard even if Sunset didn’t know who was responsible for the empire’s disappearance in the first place.

“And how,” Sunset began derisively, “do you expect the empire to pay for your generosity?”

Were she more clearheaded, Celestia probably would have adapted her argument appropriately to her opponent’s worldview. Instead, she chose perhaps the worst – if most honest – response. “I hold no such expectations. We would do it for free as a gesture of goodwill toward those in need.”

“And as an apology, I imagine?”

And there it was. Celestia flinched ever so slightly. “Yes. And as an apology.”

“Surely not indefinitely?” Before Celestia could decide between the truth or a pleasant fiction – forever was a long time – Sunset continued, “Unless, of course, you intend to make the empire subservient to Equestria?”

“I would never!” To be fair to her, Celestia likely meant that in a local temporal sense. Conditions changed over the centuries, and someday it might be appropriate to absorb the Crystal Empire into Equestria.

Unfortunately, Celestia had given Sunset the perfect counter argument earlier herself.

“You just told us you’d planned to bring the crystal ponies under Equestria. Who’s to say you wouldn’t do them that kindness now under the guise of your so-called helping hoof?”

Perhaps it would have been best not to tell Sunset which Elements Celestia had borne. These were kind of low blows.

Regardless, Sunset carried on. “The Empire can’t afford to surrender so much of its autonomy so soon after its return. It has no place in the world, no allies, no economic arm, barely a military. That’s how you become a vassal state.”

Twilight spared a glance at her sister seated in resignation beside her. Despite Cadance’s best efforts, she’d given up on moderating those two long ago and now merely watched on in case their dispute came to blows. This was, apparently, normal for them. It wasn’t exactly healthy, but at least it kept Celestia in the frame of mind of her being around to make policy decisions, not just Luna. For at least one night, she could cast aside the doom and gloom.

Further down the line, Moon Dancer listened in with horrified fascination. The debate genuinely held her interest, Twilight knew, but this was also a very different side of Celestia which didn’t come out very often. Most ponies probably didn’t think she had any emotions but variations on serenity.

For her part, Twilight tuned out the argument, passively watched the movie playing, and let her thoughts turn inward. She had other domestic problems to consider.

I wonder if I’ve been too harsh with Shining. Yes, he screwed up massively by sending Flash to Ponyville, but I share some of the blame. I could have just called it a night and gone to hang out with Luna. It wasn’t like Pinkie Pie was wrong about Fluttershy bearing Kindness. I could have just tracked down whoever Rainbow Dash is the next day. Surely she left word or a paper trail of where she went.

But I didn’t have the time. If Celestia had just given me more of a heads-up…

That was a fruitless avenue of thought.

I guess I should have at least tried to ID the nonresidents. I had every reason to expect a bunch of lunar cultists wandering into town, and I even kind of got one for Laughter. That was my bad.

But still! He had no right to interfere with my mission. I thought I made that explicitly clear the last time he pulled something like that.

Twilight still remembered Shining’s wildly overprotective freak-out after her near death dealing with the Alicorn Amulet. If he weren’t family and hadn’t been understandably distressed at the time, he wouldn’t still be the Captain of the Royal Guard. His unsanctioned interference in her subsequent missions had nearly caused ponies to die.

And now we’re in the same boat again. If I can’t get the Elements to work because of Flash, we’re going to lose Celestia! He deserves a little comeuppance for that. He can just deal with the fallout of Sunset stealing Celestia’s crown. Twilight harrumphed, satisfied with her conclusion. I doubt she’ll even care considering how resigned she is to Luna’s victory. He’ll suffer some public humiliation at worst until Luna shows up and steals everypony’s attention.

A sigh escaped Twilight’s thoughts into the real world, and her gaze shifted from the movie to Celestia. Speaking of Luna, an idea occurred.

Is Flash even necessary? It’d be better if he were present, sure, but it’s not like the Elements need six ponies to function. Celestia took Luna’s Elements and used all six even though three of them weren’t attuned to her. Worse come to worst, maybe I can just summon Loyalty from Flash and use it myself. It won’t work as well for me, but maybe it’ll be enough.

It was a thought to keep in mind, if nothing else.

A magical poke at her shoulder brought Twilight back to reality. She turned her gaze toward Sunset beside her and hummed in question.

“Show me to the bathroom?” Sunset asked rather tersely while just barely on the right side of a growl.

Twilight glanced at Celestia, who looked to be in an equally foul mood. Well, I guess they’re done arguing for now.

With a shrug, Twilight agreed to Sunset’s request. While she knew Sunset could list every single bathroom in the castle, that wasn’t the point. Technically, Eventide had no idea where to find one as there wasn’t one directly attached to the theater. Beyond that, however, she suspected Sunset either wanted to storm out and cool off or simply needed somepony to vouch for her alibi while she went and sorted out a snare in her heist.

It was probably both.

Regardless, Twilight quickly made their excuses to Celestia, Cadance, and Moon Dancer and then led Sunset out of the theater. The bathroom was only a short walk down the corridor, and they were there in but moments. Sunset, of course, didn’t even bother to pretend to actually need it. Instead, she splashed some cold water onto her face from the sink and relaxed her successful attempt to keep her continuous use of magic concealed. Her horn didn’t glow, as it wasn’t the current conduit of her power, but the flow of magic was unmistakable.

“So,” Twilight began, knowing the castle bathrooms were well warded for privacy for good reason. “That was some row.”

Sunset glanced at Twilight. Her raised eyebrows and scoff said that it was actually fairly tame. When she spoke, the heat in her voice lingered, but it was clearly directed at herself now. “I didn’t mean to pick a fight. I’m lucky she hasn’t realized who I am and called me out.”

She was playing counselor far more frequently than she liked, but Twilight went ahead and asked with as detached an air as she could, “Then why did you?”

“Old habits are easy to fall into, and I’m distracted. Being in two places at once isn’t easy.”

Twilight said, “Fair enough,” knowing how difficult splitting one’s attention like that was. She could duplicate herself once and remain more or less fully functional, twice if she only wanted to hold a conversation with herself, but thrice or more made the magic break down. Pinkie Pie, she suspected, could probably handle the strain of more duplications than herself and Sunset combined, but the world wasn’t ready to test such theories. Sometimes science could go too far.

“It doesn’t help that Loyalty showed up.”

Ah, I probably should have expected that. Flash must have a bunch of friends in the guard going at it with Sunset right now.

“I just…” Sunset sucked in a deep breath and then heaved it out. “I just need a couple minutes away from her. Let me get this done, and then we can go back. I don’t think I can hold a civil conversation with Sunbutt, hide the echoes of my spellcasting from her, and make a convincing escape with the added complication of ensuring whats-his-name doesn’t do anything stupid.”

Leaving Sunset to her own devices, Twilight pulled Luna’s book from her bag of holding and turned it open to where she’d left off. She’d almost finished it in these spare moments she found and hoped to have read it from cover to cover before the solstice. It was only nine days away, but that should give her plenty of time.





A stream of profanity and insults spewed forth from Shining’s mouth as Eclipse finally made it outside the castle wards far beyond the main gate. Princess Celestia’s crown still sat mockingly upon her brow. Worse, she could teleport away now, and judging by the level of skill she’d displayed in the chase, only Twilight or the princess herself would have any hope of tracking her.

But Eclipse didn’t immediately depart with her ill-gotten treasure in tow. No, that would be far too much to ask of a mare of her disposition. Instead, she leapt two stories up onto the roof of a nearby building in a single bound, turned to face her pursuers, and did what she always did after her heists.

“Well, Captain, it was fun. Perhaps next time we meet, you’ll be more prepared to catch me.” It was the middle of the night, and Eclipse’s amplified voice woke everypony around. Already, windows lit up and ponies poked their heads outside to witness this final humiliation. “Do wish your wife well for me, if you would. Your sister, too. I know she’s a fan.”

Shining made a mental note to ask Twilight for a copy of any notes she’d made over the course of a personal investigation into Eclipse.

Turning to her fellow rogues, Eclipse offered a short bow. “A pleasure meeting you, Tempest. Starlight, I apologize for calling upon you when you’re injured. Perhaps when you fully recover, you could pose a minor threat.”

Starlight Glimmer held a hoof in front of Tempest Shadow, preventing her from charging forward. It was a good call, strictly speaking. It was, however unlikely, possible that Eclipse would get caught up in her monologue and leave an opening for them to apprehend her. It wouldn’t be the first time something like that had happened. But if one of them rushed in, she would just leave.

“Captain, please extend my gratitude to the princess for her generosity this evening. This will be, quite literally, the crown jewel of my collection.”

How Shining wished he could wipe that smirk off the mare’s face, but she hadn’t dropped her guard.

“Now, sadly, I must call it a night. I bid you all a fond farewell.”

Without a word more, Eclipse teleported to who knew where.

“Well, horseapples,” Shining muttered. Now he needed to figure out how he was going to tell Princess Celestia he’d lost her crown.





Twilight turned a page in Luna’s book.

I wonder how far Rarity has gotten in the copy I made for her. I can’t imagine her not taking to it with a passion. Her dreamscape would be the perfect place for her to create; she’d be able to give her ideas form with but a thought. Even just lucid dreaming would…

Realizing her thoughts had drifted, Twilight turned her attention back to her reading material. Friends were distracting even when not around, it seemed. Was it any wonder, then, why she’d gotten so much further so much faster in her studies than most anypony else? Granted, she liked the distraction, but she’d need to learn to filter them out.

Not too long later, Sunset said, “Done.” Celestia’s crown teleported into place atop her head to emphasize the point. It was too big for her by far, but it at least matched her coloring better than Luna’s would. “How do I look?”

“Like a filly wearing her mother’s jewelery,” Twilight replied bluntly.

Sunset snorted with a distinctly annoyed air, but she didn’t bother hiding the upturn of her lips.

Just for the fun of it, Twilight pulled Luna’s crown from her bag of holding and placed it on her own head. “And me?”

After first glancing at herself in the mirror, Sunset reluctantly admitted, “Better than me. Luna is closer to your size, it seems. Silver or platinum might suit you better than obsidian, though.”

Twilight rolled her eyes and put Luna’s crown away. “Are we done here?”

“In a moment.” Sunset cast a complex and unknown spell reeking of dimensional magic upon Celestia’s crown before stowing it in her own subspace storage. “Right, let’s go.”

They would in a moment. They had time enough for a quick question. “What was that?”

“Just a spell of my own design to keep Sunbutt from stealing this back. I removed it from Luna’s, considering you intend to return it.”

Twilight hummed in interest. When they had more time, she would most certainly be picking Sunset’s brain for the details. For now, however, they must sadly return to the theater before anypony questioned what they were up to.

Just as they were about to leave the bathroom and the extra protections against eavesdropping it provided, Sunset casually said, “By the way, has Little Cadey mentioned I’m your big sister now?”

“No, she–” Twilight blinked. Surely she’d heard that wrong. But no, that smirk on Sunset’s face spoke only of truth. Incredulous, she squawked, “What!”
> Chapter Twenty Two - Aftermath
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Mortal life is such a cruel joke. We’re born. We grow. We maybe reproduce. We fade. Then when the biological or magical damage becomes too much, we die. That’s it. There’s no divine allotment of time, no destined end, no anything. Just the long accumulation of unrecoverable errors. Pathetic, isn’t it?”

The slumbering dragon curled up beside her in bed had no response, but that was okay. It wasn’t something he was old enough yet to truly understand anyway. She idly nuzzled him, too awake to sleep yet too weary to work, and wished things were different.





It was well over an hour past midnight when the last movie finished. Their chatter lingered for a short while longer, but the eclectic group of friends and family called it a night before too long.

The foals, obviously exhausted despite their protests, they sent off to Sweetie Belle’s apartment in the castle for a sleepover. Rarity and Cadance went with to supervise. Hopefully, they wouldn’t burn the castle to the ground.

Night Light and Velvet rose to leave next. They first extracted their parental tribute in the form of a hug and nuzzle respectively. While the latter was at it, she whispered, “It’s good to see you’ve made such a beautiful friend.”

Flushed and properly mortified – Twilight had not missed the quiet suggestion – she hissed, “Mom!” as she pushed the mare away in protest, not that it had any effect other than making Velvet grin. It would seem somepony had kissed and told. Twilight should have sworn Rarity to absolute secrecy on pain of death and enforced with a geas, not given her permission to brag. Honestly, she would never hear the end of this!

Moon Dancer begged off next, citing a new academic paper she wished to read before heading to bed. From how tonight had gone, it seemed she’d adapted well to a demanding schedule requiring less sleep than most ponies took for granted.

Chrysalis and Sunset left together shortly thereafter, off to do who knew what. The middle of the night after a long day wasn’t really the time to continue their negotiations over the Crystal Empire. Perhaps Sunset just wanted to celebrate or brag about her heist with a relatively neutral party. Chrysalis did know Eclipse’s real identity.

On their way out, Twilight briefly excused herself from Celestia’s company and caught the pair just outside the theater. “Hey, lunch tomorrow, Big Sister?”

A weird expression emerged on Sunset’s face. “I’m going to regret springing that on you, aren’t I?”

Most definitely. Revenge would be sweet. Twilight didn’t bother to reply aloud. Her answer was obvious.

“Fine. You know where to find me.”

With that, Sunset set off again. Chrysalis, disguised as an unremarkable pony, lingered behind just long enough to direct a contemplative look at Twilight before rejoining her.

That left Twilight alone with Celestia when she returned to the theater. As neither of them were particularly tired yet, they stayed right where they were and threw on a bad movie to ignore while they enjoyed one another’s company. It’d been what felt like forever since circumstance had allowed them any real private time with one another to just talk, and they weren’t going to miss this opportunity.

Twilight threw herself onto Celestia’s floor cushion and indulgently nuzzled up against her beloved mentor. Celestia draped a wing over her in return, and it was just like old times. Their conversation roamed everywhere from the regular drudgery of running a government to her experiences in Ponyville. She certainly had a lot of stories to tell even from just her short stay there. This might very well have been the best possible way to end the night.

Eventually, the conversation turned to a subject Twilight had expected to come up much sooner.

“Would you like me to give you my old lecture notes for your own use?”

“Oh yes, that would–” A sudden feeling of danger struck Twilight. “Wait. They’re not covered in embarrassing annotations about me, are they?”

Celestia’s far too innocent smile as she twisted her neck to make momentary eye contact betrayed the truth.

“You’re the worst,” Twilight said with no real heart in it.

Some light laughter met the response. “Think of it as my version of baby pictures.”

“Definitely the worst,” Twilight muttered.

More serious now, Celestia said, “My dearest Twilight, I want you to have them. As you transition into this new role in your life, I thought I might offer my own experiences as an example.”

Despite the earlier teasing, Twilight couldn’t help the warm feeling in her chest. “Still mentoring me, eh?”

“Whenever you let me.”

Twilight grinned. All these years later, she still took pride in managing to outpace even Celestia’s expectations of her. “I suppose I could take them off your hooves.” Then, slightly nervous, she asked, “I guess this means you approve?” Twilight had seen Celestia dote on Sweetie Belle early on, but it was in her own best interest to keep Generosity’s bearer happy. Then again, she hadn’t exactly been in the most self-preserving mood lately. On the other hoof, she–

Celestia booped Twilight on the nose with a hoof, drawing her out of her spiraling thoughts before they could really get going. She scrunched up her nose in protest, not quite willing to thank Celestia for the save in that particular manner. Nonetheless, she listened when Celestia spoke.

“You need nopony’s approval to take on a student of your own, Twilight. But for what little my opinion is worth, I found Sweetie Belle both aptly named and very gifted. Whether or not she ever ascends to the same extraordinary heights you have, I think you two will be good for one another.”

“Thank you,” Twilight said sincerely. “It means a lot to me to have your…” – not approval – “enthusiastic support.”

Celestia shook her head in a way Twilight knew meant she was rolling her eyes. “You both have my approval.”

Once again, Twilight offered her gratitude, if perhaps a bit flippantly this time.

“Knowing how your early years studying magic went, I hesitate to ask, but how do you intend to begin Sweetie Belle’s lessons?”

“Well,” Twilight began, not sure how Celestia would take this approach, “I planned to start with changing the way she thinks. You know, start with puzzles that require her to actually use her brain rather than just apply what she knows. Problem solving is an important skill to develop young.

“After that, I want to subtly push her toward spell decomposition. I know that’s usually graduate work, but I’m proof enough that you can pick it up at the beginning of your education. She’ll be better off learning how magic works first rather than memorizing some arbitrary number of known spells and then trying to unlearn bad habits. I’m hoping to give her a real eureka moment. I remember when I first noticed the similarities between disparate magics. Once I saw it, I couldn’t stop seeing it. Spellcrafting followed naturally thereafter.”

Celestia pointedly cleared her throat.

“Even if my technique needed a little refinement under your guidance.”

Celestia bumped her hips against Twilight’s.

“Okay, a lot of refinement.”

“I do recall spending far too many nights at your bedside in the hospital wing. Perhaps the coming years will teach you why I worry about you so.”

Twilight couldn’t stop the sheepish grin from pulling at her lips. She’d been a terrible troublemaker as a foal in her own way, she had to admit, and she expected Sweetie Belle to be even worse considering her reputation.

“Be careful not to try to recreate your own education too hard,” Celestia added in warning. “Sweetie Belle is not you. If she requires more traditional instruction, I expect you to deliver it with a smile regardless of your private opinions.”

Given Twilight’s past behavior on guest lecturing, she considered that a fair admonition. “I know,” she said without protest. “I already promised Rarity I would adapt as necessary.” Not that it meant she would like it. “Honestly, I think Sweetie Belle would do all right on her own if provided with access to a library with a proper selection of magical texts.” Ponyville’s was, unsurprisingly, lacking. “I wouldn’t do that to her, but absolute worst-case scenario, she should be okay. She’s bright, and I’ve already imparted more advice to her than what got me started.”

“Yes…” Celestia said with an odd hesitance. “Eventide.” All things considered, Twilight had expected either a lecture about bad influences or an apology for acting so uncouthly tonight. Instead, she received a carefully neutral, “I can count on my hooves the number of ponies who have ever managed to work me up so.”

A nervous chuckle escaped Twilight. “Yes, she can be a bit…” She faked a cough and changed tact. “Who are they?”

Celestia snorted. “My father, Lulu, and Sunset.”

Ah, that made sense. Family did tend to know best how to get on one’s nerves, although Twilight wondered what it meant that Sunset–

“Wait, what?” Had Twilight heard her correctly? “Your father?” Celestia never talked about her origins, and Twilight had learned not to pry years ago when she’d unknowingly asked about Luna.

Pressed up against one another as they were, Twilight felt Celestia shake with silent laughter. “Is it so strange that I have one?”

“Well, no, but I mean – it’s just…”

Celestia laughed more openly when Twilight faltered for words.

Well fine then. If that was how things were going to be, so be it. “Was he an alicorn too?”

The question sobered Celestia immediately. “I suspect so.”

“You…suspect so?” Twilight asked hesitantly. There were few reasons she could think of for Celestia not knowing, and none of them were good.

As expected, Celestia tone darkened. “Forgive me, but Luna and I happily imprisoned him forever before he could bother himself to teach us the facts of life.”

“Oh…” Twilight rolled the dice and tried for a safer topic. “And your mother?”

A heavy silence fell.

“I must have had one once,” Celestia mused, her voice very far away.

Before they could continue, the sound of hoofsteps broke the mood. It was a very somber and solemn Shining who strode through the theater with his head held high but his eyes downcast and unable to meet his sovereign’s. When he stood only a few hoofsteps away, he slipped into a full formal salute. “Your Highness, I come bearing…news.”

Celestia commanded, “Rise, Captain, and tell me what troubles you,” with her usual serene smile as though they’d not just been dredging up a dark past. Twilight took the moment to shift gears, logging away what she’d learned, and then opted to solve this mystery for Celestia.

“He lost your crown.”

Shining’s eyes narrowed at her bluntness, but Twilight just stuck her tongue out at him in return.

While this turn of events clearly surprised her, Celestia remained relaxed and completely unconcerned as she asked, “Is this true, Captain?”

Angry with somepony, probably himself, Shining visibly grit his teeth. But soon enough, he slumped in place as he admitted both defeat and the truth with that one act. He sighed in resignation and then said, “It is, Your Highness. It was Eclipse, the thief. I take full responsibility for this failure.”

With a nod of understanding, Celestia said simply, “Very well. Catch her, then.”

Shining’s head snapped up. “That’s it?” he asked incredulously.

“That’s it,” Celestia confirmed. “Do coordinate with the EIS. I know they have an open investigation on her. Be sure not to neglect security in the castle, however.”

“I…see.” After taking a few moments to process it, Shining snapped to attention and delivered a sharp salute. “Thank you for giving me another chance, Your Highness.”

“Is that all, Captain?”

“Ah, not quite.” Shining turned to Twilight. “I’d appreciate the notes from whatever personal investigation you’ve been running. Eclipse mentioned you were ‘a fan’.”

Smiling widely, Twilight enthusiastically clapped her forehooves. “Ooh, yes! She does good work. Granted, it’s not exactly above board, but it frees up a lot of my time and resources to turn a blind eye and just let her rob the corrupt.”

Shining facehoofed, and Celestia groaned, “Twilight…”

“What? It’s not like I’m enabling her.” This most recent heist excluded, that was. Sure, she’d interfered with the EIS’s investigation on multiple occasions, but knowing Eclipse’s real identity wouldn’t help them catch her. Sunset was far beyond their ability to deal with.

“Why are you like this?” Shining muttered. He shook his head. “One of these days, Twily, this is going to get you in trouble. You’re always too willing to work with the scum of society.”

Celestia, of course, would have none of that. “Captain, such comments are unbecoming of you. Ponies are allowed to realize their mistakes and redeem themselves.” In hindsight, it was kind of obvious why she’d always approved of Twilight giving out second chances to those who deserved them. The situation with Nightmare Moon might have changed, but she’d certainly wanted Luna to have one, and she herself no doubt wanted one with her sister. “Unless you have something else to report, leave us.”

Shining cringed at the abrupt dismissal, a very rare sign of Celestia’s open displeasure, but collected himself quickly. “No, Your Highness, that’s all. My apologies.” After a shallow bow, he departed as bidden in stoic silence.

Once they were alone, Celestia dryly said, “Eclipse robs the corrupt?”

Twilight first weighed Celestia’s mood, finding her settling down, before responding lightheartedly. “Oh yes, she’s really very selective with her targets. As a case study, she’s fascinating. I actually thought I’d have Sweetie Belle deduce how she pulled off some of her more elaborate heists in the future. She usually uses a very minimal amount of magic, but there are occasional signs which expose her as a sorceress for those who know what to look for.”

Celestia hummed along at all the right points. Then once Twilight finished, she made one additional observation. “And she robbed me.”

Twilight froze. “Uh…”

This reaction, of course, resulted in a mischievous smile growing on Celestia’s face. She suggested, “Perhaps our thief is foreign to Equestria? Perhaps she knows me as the Sun Tyrant?”

It was as good of an explanation as any and one Twilight happily latched onto to escape her self-inflicted logical quandary.

“Regardless,” Celestia said, “I suppose I should recover my…” Her amusement rapidly faded into a frown. She withdrew her wing from Twilight and rose to her hooves. “One moment.”

Celestia dissolved into a flash of light, her own mysterious modified version of teleportation. Twilight so wished she would explain how it worked; it went through all wards including a full dimensional anchor! It defied all known principles of magic as much as alicorns themselves did, both of which meant Twilight misunderstood something about them.

Only moments later, certainly in far less time than it would take to gather her things, Celestia returned with all of her regalia adorning her except her crown. Twilight hadn’t known she could do that, but it would nonetheless appear that Sunset’s spell really did work to keep her from finding what was hers.

“This is bad,” Celestia mumbled with far too much seriousness. Then for the first time ever, Twilight witnessed her pace back and forth through a narrow strip of the theater in oddly tiny steps. Her brow furrowed in thought, and her lips moved in silent words as she spoke to herself.

Now nervous, not having expected even half this level of reaction to the loss of the crown, Twilight asked, “What’s wrong? We can make another crown for you.” Just to prove her point, she conjured a replica into existence with little effort and offered it as a replacement.

Celestia smiled for a brief moment when she noticed the crown. “Thank you, Twilight, but I need the original.”

“We can tell the public Eclipse stole a fake,” Twilight suggested, but she now strongly suspected Celestia’s crown was more than just a royal accessory or an interesting magical artifact. Indeed, when Celestia shook her head, Twilight asked, “What am I missing?”

The question silenced Celestia for the longest time. Some internal battle waged and showed itself only in the minute changes of expression playing out across her face. Her eyes lingered on Twilight as though poring through her very being for some answer to a question only Celestia knew. Her eyes closed. If she’d found what she’d been looking for, she wasn’t sharing.

Then Celestia’s eye snapped open, her expression resolute. She’d made her decision.

“We must not be overheard.”

With a brief surge of power, Celestia teleported them both to the middle of nowhere in the sky. Gravity barely had time to take effect before a truly massive swell of magic like a tidal wave carried them away. So far from civilization, nopony would notice and nothing important would break.





“And this,” Rarity proclaimed, “is where we’ll be living. It’s a bit bare at the moment, but–”

The fillies all ran past Rarity and went into the apartment Princess Celestia had arranged for Sweetie Belle and her sister, although Ocellus had the courtesy to offer a polite, “Excuse us,” as she went by. Like cats, they spread out and explored the new space. No door was left unopened. No furnishing was left unturned. No wall was left unexamined for secret passages.

To be perfectly fair, one of the bookcases in the study slid aside to reveal a secret entrance into the tunnels below the castle if done properly, but Spike wasn’t about to tell them that. He didn’t think Twilight knew he knew about them, and while that remained so, she couldn’t forbid him from using them. The quickest way for her to find out, however, would be to inform Flurry or…

Sweetie Belle had stopped moving and turned to stare directly at Spike. When he finally noticed, she winked at him and made a motion of zipping her lips when nopony else was looking before going back to exploring.

Spike buried his face in his hands. They were going to get caught.

“Is something wrong?”

Heaving a sigh, Spike let his hands fall back to his sides. “No, Aunt Cadance, just revealing more state secrets to Sweetie Belle.”

“Oh dear,” Rarity said. “I’m going to have to sit her down and have a talk soon.”

From further off in the apartment, Sweetie Belle poked her head out of a door and said, “Archmage Twilight already did!”

Rarity, with nothing better to say in response, simply uttered, “Well.”

Living with a telepath was certainly going to change things. It wouldn’t be too long before she no longer had to keep herself to the less populous areas of the castle, and then there would be no hiding.

A thoughtful hum caught Spike’s attention, and when he turned to its source, Rarity said, “I do believe we haven’t had the opportunity to speak tonight.”

There might have been a reason or two for that. Spike tried his best not to blush or otherwise embarrass himself. Things could be awkward enough at times already around Sweetie Belle without constantly reminding her that her older sister was the most beautiful mare he’d ever met.

“I heard you’ve been keeping my sister company. I hope she’s not been a bother.”

“No. No, I – uh, we’ve been getting along. She’s…fun.” In the privacy of his own mind, Spike practiced thinking nothing at all. Then when that failed after less than a second, he tried not to think anything coherent using words and saw far more success. “A bit magic obsessed, but I’m used to that.”

With a very lovely chuckle, Rarity said, “Yes, I can imagine.”

“You should have seen her as a filly,” Cadance added. “No responsibilities. Just magic.”

“Would that we could all be so blessed our whole lives. Ah, but it’s late, and we should all be getting to sleep. We mares do need our beauty sleep. Spike, dear, would you keep an eye on the fillies for us while we arrange for a few extra beds?”

Without really even thinking about it, Spike said, “Sure,” a bit too eagerly. It was only after Rarity and Cadance left that he realized he’d promised to watch three fillies with what had to be twenty pounds of sugar in them who’d all caught their second wind and very much did not want to go to bed.





The vision took Twilight’s breath away. All of Equus sprawled out above her, a riot of greens and blues and browns and fluffy white even at night. Millions upon millions of lights dotted the land in an interconnected web of civilization. She could pinpoint the cluster that represented Canterlot, and not too far northeast lay Manehattan. Los Pegasus sat in the southwest corner, and that great blackness with only the slightest hint of green had to be the sprawling Everfree Forest.

The other continents Twilight possessed less familiarity with, but she could pick out most of the world’s major nations and capitals. Prance was easy enough to find, and the warm red glow far to the south had to be the Dragon Lands. Between them lay Saddle Arabia, and off to the east was Zebrica. Her eyes flitted to the Griffon Kingdom next, jumped to Mount Aris, and then landed on where she knew Aquestria slumbered beneath the sea. She kept at it until she thought to turn her attention to the planet as a whole.

From the moon’s current position, Equestria sat comfortably near the center of Equus above. It was a strange sight to see duplicate land masses, distorted though they became at the edges, as her gaze trailed east or west across the world. Such was, however, the nature of their universe. It wasn’t something most ponies gave much thought to, but the moon and sun rose and set on the entire planet at once. One could see them from anywhere on the world, and the converse held true as well. Somepony on the moon could see anywhere on Equus. At the right spot, at the right time, even, a pony on Equus could see a second image of the moon, although it would be so small as to seem like nothing more than a dim star.

It was wonderful growing up with an astronomer for a father. The mathematics of reality were a thing of beauty.

“Twilight.”

The voice was gentle but still startling. Twilight jumped in surprise, having forgotten she wasn’t alone. Rather than fall back to the ground, however, she floated gently along through a far too large arc until her hooves settled back onto the glowing gray rock below and kicked up a bit of dust.

A giddy laugh escaped Twilight. She was on the moon. “A – a little overkill, don’t you think,” she choked out. She knew ponies who would die just for the chance to be here. Her father was one of them.

“Perhaps,” Celestia allowed, patiently giving Twilight time to collect herself, “but we avoid the risk of Generosity overhearing us or Loyalty jumping to you without our knowing.”

“Somepony could spy on us with a telescope.”

Celestia looked about to laugh.

“A really big one,” Twilight insisted in an embarrassing effort to save face.

Celestia rolled her eyes but nodded to the shield about them. Now that she’d pointed it out, Twilight noticed that she’d taken the time to provide them with a miniature atmosphere, a magical barrier to hold it in, and an illusion to keep them hidden.

“Ah.”

“Indeed.” Celestia’s voice grew nostalgic as the mirth faded. “Lulu built a palace up here when… Oh, I can’t remember when. It was ages ago, and it never meant as much to me as it should have given her enthusiasm for it. I believe we were somewhere in our two hundreds. She’d planned to colonize the moon, but I talked her out of it. It was too soon for our little ponies. It still is. I would take you there for this conversation, but I would rather not rob her of the chance to show off her own work.”

It was at rare times like these that Twilight truly recalled how vastly different alicorns were from regular ponies. The sheer power and both depth and breadth of experience wasn’t something to which she could properly relate. Someday she would change that, but that someday would take years and years to arrive.

Celestia’s expression grew serious as she returned to the present. “Twilight, we must catch this thief. She knows too much to let her run around freely.”

“Uh-huh…” Twilight lacked the information necessary to understand why this was so important. She could make a few educated guesses, of course, but she much preferred answers to speculation.

Twilight’s curiosity didn’t pass unnoticed. As this was what Celestia had brought them to the moon to discuss, she spoke remarkably directly – for her – on a subject she’d always kept quiet about, one which Twilight had quickly learned to dance around. “Alicorns are…different. My regalia is literally part of me.”

That confession drew a soft gasp from Twilight. Her thoughts shifted to the crown sitting innocently in her subspace storage. If that’s true, then – oh, this could be very, very bad.

Celestia saw the stricken look upon Twilight’s face, and her tone turned reassuring. “A small part of no consequence to lose, not a vulnerability. But a part nonetheless.”

That wasn’t it at all! Twilight shook her head. “Luna’s dreamwalking…” How could she say this without making a mess of everything?

With a nod, Celestia spoke before Twilight could form the proper words. “Whether intentionally on her part, by mistake on mine, or from the Elements granting her a window to the world, her crown, that one tiny piece of her, escaped banishment. The significance never occurred to me until she introduced herself to you.”

That confirmed it. Twilight had to know to plan accordingly, and she had to ask now while Celestia was feeling talkative. “If it’s only part of her, what happens when the vast majority of her is free and subsumes it?” Had she been making bargains with – and admittedly grown attached to – the sliver of sanity in Nightmare Moon?

“Ah, a worry I tested only last week. Banishing myself was…an interesting experience. More so without my crown. Fortunately, although divided, I remained whole. It is thus all of Luna who visits you in your dreams.”

Twilight breathed a sigh of relief. That was one bolt dodged. Better yet, in hindsight, perhaps letting Sunset steal Celestia’s crown was a stroke of genius. If Luna couldn’t find it, she couldn’t put all of Celestia beyond reach. That opened up many possibilities, especially if she followed through on her promise to try to teach Twilight how to dreamwalk.

With that out of the way, Twilight asked, “So what exactly is the problem here? I mean, I wouldn’t want somepony to steal my leg or something either, but that’s kinda your fault for having a detachable body part.”

Celestia chuckled despite how serious she found the situation. “Close your eyes.”

Curious, Twilight shrugged and did so. She felt Celestia’s magic grasp her right forehoof and moved it up and a bit to the right. Her magic released it, and nothing more happened.

“Where is your hoof?”

Bemused, for what kind of question was that, Twilight opened her eyes, wiggled her hoof, nodded toward it without looking, and said, “It’s right…” The point of this little demonstration hit her. “Oh. You have proprioception with your crown?”

“Indeed.” For the purpose of demonstration, Celestia casually tossed one of her shoes off behind her. It floated along in a long arc under the lower gravity until, without the assistance of any divination magic, she accurately teleported it back to her. “This is what worries me about our thief,” she said as she slipped her shoe back on. “To interfere with my kinesthesia requires knowledge of alicorns Luna and I have kept private our entire lives.”

“Ah.” Twilight understood Celestia’s motivation now in full. “What solution are you hoping for, then? Memory wipe? Official employment? Imprisonment? A geas? Something more…permanent?”

A terribly long sigh met the question, and Celestia turned her gaze away from Twilight toward Equus above. “I don’t know,” she confessed. “Eclipse’s real identity rather complicates matters.”

Twilight did her absolute best not to let the nervous laughter pushing at her lips escape that barrier. Instead, she forced herself to ask, “Oh, you know who she is?” Somehow, she didn’t stutter.

“Of course,” Celestia replied matter-of-factly. “It’s obvious. Who has possession of Luna’s crown and has had decades to study it?”

That did make it obvious. “Sunset Shimmer,” Twilight answered with a perfectly straight face. “Yes, complicated indeed.”

Celestia’s eyes left Equus and landed squarely on Twilight. They narrowed, suspicious, and she slowly crumbled under the weight of that gaze. “You knew,” Celestia declared.

“No, I – that is – well…yes.” Twilight could keep secrets well enough, but she’d never claimed to have much skill at outright lying to Celestia straight to her face. Babbling nervously now, she continued, “I mean ‘Eclipse’? Overshadowing the sun? Obviously a fake name. It’s such an esoteric term. Most ponies don’t even know what it means, and there are even fewer who’d take it for their own. Cross-reference it with a list of known sorceresses, and there’s really only one possibility. It’s simple deduction.”

“How long have you known?”

Sheepishly, Twilight admitted, “Years.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Celestia pressed. There was some hurt in her voice, but mostly she just sounded lost.

This was what it felt like to be caught between a rock and a hard place. Twilight didn’t want to lie or attempt misdirection, but she didn’t want to betray Sunset’s trust, either. She suspected Sunset might actually like her at least a little bit now, and she didn’t want to ruin what progress she’d made. What was she supposed to do?

While Twilight agonized over what to say, Celestia didn’t sit idle. She drew her own conclusions from Twilight’s reticence, and they were the right ones. “Oh, how blind am I?” she said as a curse upon herself. “A thousand years, a rude awakening from the mare herself, every attempt to change my pattern of behavior, and even now I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. ‘Eventide’? Was that your idea or hers?”

Busted, Twilight hung her head. Yet she saw no reason not to answer in full and from the heart now. “Both, I suppose. I looked up to Eventide more than anypony until I met you. She was brilliant and everything I wanted to be. When we parted, I promised not to mention her to anypony.” She snorted. “The silly word of a foal, but I kept my promise. It was only after you gave me the resources to look for her in our records that I discovered her real name.

“I’ve been trying to convince Sunset to return to the fold, but she’s…not exactly eager to make peace with you. Even knowing about Luna.” Twilight mentally shoved away the gloomy thoughts that brought up and pressed on. “She’s been helping me with the Elements, though! Honestly, I don’t know what I would have done about Trixie if she hadn’t stepped in. We had this big fight, but she sorted it out for me. She still cares. She’s just…angry and bad at expressing it.”

Celestia laughed, but it had a melancholic air about it. “Sunset has never been bad at expressing her anger.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Twilight said flatly, and they both knew it.

“So I should take her theft as an expression of affection?” Celestia laughed once more, this time with just a bit more heart to it. “Such love I feel. Perhaps now she can sleep soundly with me in her hooves.”

That mental image forced a snicker from Twilight. If Sunset ever heard it, she might very well toss Celestia’s crown aside in a fit and leave it where it landed.

“I suppose you have no intention of telling me where Sunset is.”

Twilight bit her lip. “I…would rather not.”

“Or what interest she has in Queen Chrysalis?”

Twilight was quick to answer this time. “Nothing harmful to Equestria. I’d prefer not to betray their trust on the matter.”

“Then perhaps what she intends to do with the enormous fortune in her possession?”

Twilight easily replied, “Something altruistic for selfish reasons.”

That drew a snort, one of both clear annoyance and amusement, from Celestia. “Yes, that sounds like her.”

No more questions came. Celestia, apparently done with conversation for now, sat on her haunches and let herself grow absorbed in reflection. Twilight, in turn, let the silence stretch. She didn’t want to be the one to break it after their little tête-à-tête, and besides, she had a magnificent view to appreciate. For once in her life, she could just sit and enjoy the beauty of nature. It wasn’t every day one got to see the true geometry of the universe on display.

So Twilight settled into place beside Celestia. She positioned herself close enough to make her presence known but far enough away so as not to be a bother if tonight’s events had left them more distant.

As it happened, however, she needn’t have worried. Almost as soon as Twilight sat down, Celestia wordlessly unfurled a wing in invitation and, finding no protest on her end, drew her in close. They snuggled together there on the moon, as comfortable and assured in one another’s presence as ever, and gazed up upon Equus as the night slowly slipped away.

Before she knew it, Twilight began to nod off. The moment was too tranquil, too serene, to disturb with a bit of magic just to keep her awake. Her restraint came at the cost of the occasional sleepy noise, but it was worth it. Of course, neither they nor her occasional lapse of consciousness passed unnoticed.

A smile in her voice as surely as there must have been one on her face, Celestia said, “It seems somepony needs to head to bed.”

“I’m fine,” Twilight mumbled, though she couldn’t quite manage to open her eyes. “One more page…”

“Oh, Twilight, you silly filly. Whatever will I do with you?”

It wasn’t worth the effort to protest.

“Is Sunset well?”

Twilight hummed in sleepy confusion before waking herself just enough to process the question. She mumbled back, “As well as can be expected. She’s got a large chip on her shoulder.”

“Did she speak with Cadance?”

“Mm-hmm.” A long yawn forced its way out of Twilight. She smacked her lips and then added, “They reconciled.” She wasn’t sure if that was the right word to describe whatever had happened between those two, but she didn’t much care right now.

In jest, Celestia said, “Alas, betrayal upon all sides.”

Twilight’s lips briefly formed into a smile before her muscles fell lax once more.

“Did you trade my crown for Luna’s?”

For a moment, Twilight’s breath stopped. She hadn’t, but she might as well have. She had it, but should she admit it?

Now that she knew the truth, Twilight had a perhaps irreplaceable opportunity to study an alicorn. The more she learned of them, the more alien they became despite their obvious pony roots. If she turned this chance down, her path to ascension might close on her forever. And really, what would it cost but a massive betrayal of her beloved mentor’s and frenemy’s trust?

Then again, Sunset probably had all of the data Twilight needed. She wasn’t so naive as to believe Sunset had willingly parted with Luna’s crown for free nor before finishing its analysis. That Celestia couldn’t recover her own crown lent credence to that theory. Surely Twilight could negotiate access to that research data, especially with Sunset’s recent surprise induction into the family.

But that would still be a violation of trust, one in some ways worse for the deception. She should tell Celestia the truth. It would be the right thing to do. She might even get to hold onto it. One pony was as good as any other to look after it until then, after all, and of the two of them, she was the one who’d never lost it.

On the other hoof, maybe it was time to just ask Celestia about alicorns. She had been freer with such information lately, and she’d all but said she wouldn’t stand in the way of Twilight attempting ascension. Maybe a little show of trust on Twilight’s end would go a long way.

Maybe.

Twilight really didn’t want to gamble with eternity at stake.

In the end, Twilight just let herself fall asleep.





Well used to living wherever life took her, Sunset had set up an identity for herself in Ponyville easily enough and bought a cottage on the edge of town. Sure, some would call it a frivolous waste of bits, but it wasn’t like she didn’t have more than enough to throw around. If purchasing one little rural building caused even a tiny blip in her finances, she could hardly expect to prop up the entire Crystal Empire.

Moving about the minimally furnished house, old habits she’d thought herself past resurfaced as Sunset made Chrysalis welcome in what she called home for now. It was hard to forget the little rituals of Equestrian etiquette for greeting foreign royalty when she’d uselessly practiced them so many times. Everything had to be just so, and her horn and muscles danced to memories ingrained into them by rote long ago.

Sunset set a kettle on the stove, slowly warming it as she’d been taught with a careful infusion of emulated pegasus magic. It never turned out as well as the real thing, but the results nonetheless stemmed from over a thousand years of perfecting the brewing process. As far as she knew, only one pony could brew a better cup of tea.

At the exact right temperature, Sunset removed the kettle from the stove. She poured the hot water into a tea pot and left it to steep while she prepared a few of her own favorite light snacks to add something solid to the mix. It didn’t really matter what she fed Chrysalis so long as it was made with love. How that worked was something she would study later. For the moment, she imagined she was finally, truly home. At her table sat Cadance, who’d come over to complain about the tribalist idiots standing in the way of her reforms. She did this practically every day, but Sunset always lent her a sympathetic ear. What else were big sisters for?

It would have been a good life.

While she put the final touches on the food and tea, Sunset set the table for two with only the best tableware. She’d gone out of her way to retrieve the good silver and porcelain from her primary residence after Twilight had introduced her to Chrysalis. As anticipated, this wouldn’t be the first time she’d entertained royalty here nor would it likely be the last.

Sunset poured her sugar and added a dash of tea, as Cadance would put it. When prompted, Chrysalis asked for hers with only milk. Some people had no sense of taste.

“So,” Sunset began as she finally took her seat, “what did you want to talk about?”

Apparently not interested in rushing into this, Chrysalis answered with a mere hum and opted to sip from her tea. She pronounced it ‘good’ when she finally set the cup back down. Sunset rolled her eyes, but it was too late in the night for her to care.

“One of my hive” – from how she said that, he or she was obviously one of Chrysalis’s least favored subjects – “watched your performance tonight. If it was your intention to impress me with your magic, well done.”

She appreciated the recognition, truly, but Sunset still scoffed. “I’d be hard-pressed to believe I needed to.” As she understood it, Chrysalis’s hive had spent years keeping tabs on her for Twilight. If they hadn’t already known her by reputation, they’d have learned along the way. “But if you could come to the point? I have a few matters I need to think upon tonight.”

Chrysalis considered Sunset for some time with a mask of stone before finally acceding to the request. “Very well. I largely stay out of the personal lives of Equestria’s royal family, but times are changing. Your relationship with them is…variable.”

A snort escaped Sunset. That’s as good a word as any.

“As one ruler to an aspiring one, you must know Equestria is not an ally one casually slights even for access to the Crystal Heart.”

Sunset took no offense. If things had been different for her personally, she would have supported Equestria outright annexing the empire for its own good. She was honest enough with herself to acknowledge she just wanted a crown. Technically speaking, she had one now, but there was much to be said for spite as a motivational force.

“Let me guess,” Sunset began. “You want to hear how we got to where we are?”

Nodding, Chrysalis admitted, “It’s surprisingly difficult to find accurate information about your past.”

“Yeah, well, unlike Sparkles, I was Sunbutt’s dirty little secret.”

“How so?”

Sunset shook her head. She’d already said more than she wanted to. “It doesn’t matter. We started poorly, we ended poorly, and there were some good bits in between. If she’s even around when the empire returns, that’s all you need to know. She’ll bow to her niece’s wishes, and we both know Sparkles is happy to throw the empire to me.” It would be interesting to see if her opinion on that changed now that they were technically related. She strongly suspected Twilight only wanted to keep her family together and disliked the added complication of a distant throne.

“And what are Princess Cadance’s wishes?” Chrysalis inquired. “In your absence, the throne would fall to her, would it not?”

Such an ironic question made Sunset fall into a fit of laughter. “That’s more true than you know,” she managed as she petered off into the occasional giggle. “The fool adopted me as her sister.” She brushed the tears from her eyes with a fetlock. “Even gave me full rights to inherit before her.”

For a few long moments, Chrysalis weighed the response with an unreadable look upon her face. She soon spoke, but not with any condemnation or approval. No, instead, she made a mere observation. “Your guilt weighs upon my trust.”

Sunset clicked her tongue. Stupid emotivores. She bought herself a bit of time by sipping from her tea. With how busy the night had been, she’d not yet even had the time to process those emotions herself.

Really, what was she supposed to say? That she’d sought out Cadance when they were young because the poor filly had been so vulnerable to emotional exploitation? That Celestia had been right to try to scare her away from Cadance? That Cadance had figured her out and forgiven her because who else even pretended to care about the unwanted pegasus princess? That she’d abandoned Cadance in her anger at Celestia instead of doing the smart thing and cleaving together? That she’d never even sent a postcard for basically no reason? That she’d only come back tonight to leverage their past together in order to ensure she had no credible contesting claim to the Crystal Empire’s throne?

In hindsight, Cadance was too good for this chaotic world.

Sunset heaved a sigh as she set her teacup upon its saucer. “The day before I made my grand exit, Celestia and I went through the argument. The one that finally broke whatever we had left. We tore into each other, assassinating each other’s character for all and sundry to hear.” Not that anypony had cared what she’d had to say.

“In the end,” Sunset continued bitterly, “we were both right.” The admission stung. “She made the effort to change” – and that hurt worse for so many reasons – “while I spent the last few decades going out of my way to prove her wrong. In the process, I only accomplished the opposite. I haven’t exactly treated my little sister well.” A rueful chuckled escaped her. “I truly learned from the best.”

Chrysalis sat in patient silence, probably learning far more from that minor confession than Sunset wanted. Empaths were not something she’d trained herself to beguile, deceive, or manipulate. Why would she have? As far as she’d known until recently, they existed purely in the realm of myth and science fiction.

With no interest in giving any further explanation, Sunset shoved aside her memories and adopted a more stately countenance. “If you have any further concerns about my legitimacy on that front, I suggest you direct them toward Sparkles. I expect she’ll conduct a thorough investigation at the slightest hint of foul play against her sister. Cadey has surprisingly tight lips about this sort of thing, but you could also ask her yourself, if you wish.”

“Hmm…” Chrysalis reached for a teacake and experimentally nibbled on it. When it met her approval, she took a larger bite. Upon finishing, she declared, “Very well,” and then cleared her palate with a sip of tea. “However, if all that’s true, why not return to the castle and make peace?”

The teacup in Sunset’s magic nearly shattered under the strength of her grip. She forced a serene smile onto her face, however useless a facade it was in Chrysalis’s presence to hide her resentment, and fired back with an equally revealing question. “Why wait until the last minute to send someone to find me?”

An argument could be made that Celestia had never closed the investigation into Sunset nor taken her off the list of most wanted fugitives, but Chrysalis was the first person sent to find her who’d actually had a chance of success. Even Twilight had leaned on the changelings to keep track of her, and that had only worked to begin with because she’d been sloppy and let Twilight peg her as Eclipse. Leaving the search to regular law enforcement was a token effort on Celestia’s end at best.

Chrysalis considered the matter for a few moments before nodding and accepting the question as an answer. Whatever meaning she took from it was fine by Sunset. The matter was closed as far as she was concerned.

“I trust any resentment you feel for Twilight will cause no problems?”

Sunset snorted. Who did Chrysalis take her for, Trixie? “No, Sparkles is cool in my book.” She wasn’t about to mess up everything going right in her life by taking out some misplaced aggression on her other new little sister. Twilight was the linchpin holding everything together. There had been no exaggeration or deception when Sunset had named her Equestria’s princessmaker. If anything, it’d been an understatement, but Trixie hadn’t needed to hear that.

“If you say so,” Chrysalis allowed.





It was unlike her, but this was hardly a usual situation. Through the skies of her dreamscape, Twilight flew to forget. She let her mind focus entirely on finding and riding thermals to maintain altitude. It wasn’t a skill she had much practice in, but it felt like something she should know how to do. It was sort of a rite of passage, she supposed, for winged species. Most pegasi, at least, used thermals to provide the lift necessary to soar during their foalhood when their flight muscles were underdeveloped and their burgeoning magic couldn’t withstand heavy loads for long.

Twilight’s momentum abruptly zeroed as somepony’s magic latched onto her tail and refused to let go. She fell out of her zen state with a shriek of surprised pain. Then as gravity took hold, she reflexively teleported to the ground rather than flap her wings to maintain height. Her tail screamed in protest of its abuse until she found the presence of mind to disable pain in her dream, something she should have done ages ago anyway.

An icy voice on the edge of a breakdown cut through the air. “What have you done to me?”

Twilight spun on her hooves to find Luna not two steps away. Her wings were desperately in need of preening, her starry mane hung limp at her side, and her pupils had dilated. The magic within her roiled in wait, ready for a call to action. This was far more akin to the Luna Twilight had expected to meet at the outset of her quest.

“Nothing knowingly,” Twilight said slowly and gently, hoping not to set Luna off. “What happened?”

Luna reached out with a trembling hoof and jabbed Twilight in the chest. As she did, she said, “Thy dream is the only one I can reach or even find! Do not claim this as coincidence.”

And just like that, Twilight was thrust back into the same situation she’d run away from with Celestia. Given the timing and the symptom of Luna’s problem, there could be but one cause: Twilight had taken her to the moon far away from every other dreamer. Admitting so much as an expectation for the situation to resolve itself shortly, however, would be tantamount to admitting who had her crown. Sure, Twilight could pin the blame on Celestia by only revealing half the story, but that would only buy her a little time.

As Twilight patted her coat back into place with a hoof, another option occurred to her. She had the unique qualifications necessary to lie through her teeth and maybe not get called out on it. And even if she got caught or decided to relinquish the piece of Luna she held, she could believably claim ignorance. She’d honestly never once suspected Luna’s crown of being anything more than that until tonight. It was a safe, neutral course of action.

She certainly wouldn’t want to make an actual decision or something crazy like that.

“I think I know what happened. Celestia brought me to the moon so I could poke at your banishment. I must have nudged something I shouldn’t have. Sorry about that. If it doesn’t fix itself soon” – that was if Celestia decided to rest on the moon – “I’ll take care of it when I awaken.” There was little harm in letting Luna dreamwalk these last couple weeks. The damage was already done.

Luna visibly calmed as Twilight spun her tale. If Luna caught the lie – or had even been in a fit state to do so – she didn’t call Twilight out on it. When Twilight finished, she fell heavily onto her rear. She tried not to, of course, but her hindlegs gave out on her first. Exhaustion and relief passed over her face, apparently seeing no point to thin masks any longer.

“Autophobia?” Twilight asked.

“I…do not profess certainty of that word’s meaning.”

It did require one to jump through a mental hoop or two, especially for somepony who grew up speaking the root language. “Fear of isolation.”

“Ah.” Luna took one last long breath before heaving herself back onto all fours. “I greatly enjoy my alone time, but I prefer it to occur upon my own initiative.”

Twilight nodded her understanding. Before she fell asleep, Luna would have been completely cut off from everypony without warning or reason. That couldn’t have been fun.

“Well, shall we head inside?” Twilight suggested. “I think you’ll enjoy hearing how my night went.”

That caught Luna’s attention. She stood just a little bit taller and a bit more energy and life returned to her bearing. “I suppose I could use a stiff drink. Do lead the way, dear Twilight.”





“Hey, Scoots, you still awake?”

Scootaloo turned over in bed beneath the covers to face Apple Bloom’s back. “What’s up?” They were both having a hard time sleeping, it seemed.

“Well, I just got to thinking, is all, and, well, you and Sweetie Belle are going off to Canterlot and all. Then there’s the princesses and Spike there.”

So that was what had been on Apple Bloom’s mind since watching the Great and Powerful Trixie’s performance today. Scootaloo had wondered, but just asking had felt weird. Feelings and junk were Sweetie Belle’s thing. Now that she knew, though, well, it still felt weird. But she had to say something, right?

“Hey, didn’t Applejack move to Manehattan or something when she was your age?”

Morose, Apple Bloom said, “Yeah. She stayed with our cousins and came home when she decided city life wasn’t for her.” From the sound of it, she’d already asked if she could move to Canterlot and had been shot down. “Scoots, you and Sweetie Belle won’t forget me, right?”

“What! Of course not! We’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders. That’ll never change.”

Despite her heavy sigh, Apple Bloom said, “Thanks.”

“You could try to get into one of those fancy agriculture schools.”

Apple Bloom blew out a puff of air. “Have you met my family? Do ya think any of them are gonna let somepony else tell them how to run their farm?”

“Well…no.” It was actually kind of a problem. Scootaloo still remembered the ‘baked bads’ incident years ago. Applejack was the worst of the lot, but as far as she knew, Granny Smith and Big Mac could be just as stubborn and stuck in their ways. The only consolation she could offer wasn’t much. “Sweetie Belle and I will eventually be able to make the trip here and back pretty fast.”

“Yeah, years from now. That’s like forever.”

Scootaloo didn’t know what else to say.

“Guess I’ll just brew potions with Zecora and tinker with circuits in the clubhouse.”

“Maybe if you invent something really awesome, you’ll be able to afford to live in Canterlot on your own.” It wasn’t much of a suggestion, but it was all Scootaloo had.

“Yeah, maybe.” Apple Bloom didn’t sound much like she believed it. “Goodnight, Scoots.”

Lacking any better option, Scootaloo merely wished Apple Bloom goodnight.





Luna erupted into uproarious laughter. The hoof she slammed against the table in concert sent droplets of cider flying everywhere. That earth pony strength of hers might very well have broken real wood, enchanted or no. Worse yet, she managed to send their cards flying every which way across the table. Twilight had finally been about to win a game of Spit thanks to the distraction, but now they’d have to start over. Somehow, between gasps for air, she managed to get out, “Sister lost her crown!”

Personally, Twilight didn’t think it was that funny, but she could appreciate the symbolism from Luna’s perspective.

Once Luna finally managed to gain a semblance of control over herself while Twilight collected their displaced cards, she confessed, “I thought the punchline would be casually reclaiming it, but no! Amazing. Simply amazing. I must make time to meet Sunset Shimmer after my return. I like her already.”

Yeah, so about your crown. Twilight opted not to mention that this was Sunset’s second theft from Celestia as she shuffled the deck. Luna probably didn’t even know what had happened to her own crown anyway. If she did, she probably would have called Twilight out on her lie earlier. “Are you done?”

“For now,” Luna claimed, but a giggle from her put paid to the lie. “What happened next? How did she take the news?”

Twilight shrugged and split the deck, passing one half from her magic to Luna’s. “My brother showed up after everyone else left to report the theft. Celestia figured everything out pretty quickly. Who Eclipse is. Who let her into the castle. What all she got up to. It’s like she has centuries of experience at that sort of thing or something.”

“Or something,” Luna echoed with a roll of her eyes. They both finished setting up their side of the game and, on her count, turned over a card to create a discard pile. Play then proceeded in a flurry of cards and magic. “Good thing you’re her only hope. I can’t imagine she was very happy with you.”

Upon reflection, Twilight actually didn’t know how Celestia felt when all was said and done. She’d need to correct that once she returned to the waking world. Tonight had turned out vastly more complicated than she’d expected going into it. Everything had worked out for the best, more or less, but only through the sheer dumb luck of coincidence, not by any design on her part. She’d meant well, but she probably owed Celestia an apology nonetheless.

Luna shed the last card of her half of the deck. Distracted, Twilight reacted a split second too slowly to steal the victory. Luna teleported the smaller discard pile away to use as her deck for the next round, leaving Twilight with the slightly larger one and all of her remaining cards. It wasn’t exactly the traditional way to end the round, but teleportation offered a more definitive result than slapping a pile.

Grumbling just a little, Twilight scooped up her cards and began shuffling them. It was entirely her own fault she’d lost this round, but Luna was otherwise altogether too good at this game. They dealt out the next round and began.

“You know,” Twilight finally replied, “I really don’t know. There’s too much noise from everything else going on. She didn’t seem that upset after the initial surprise subsided, and it’s not like I would have turned on her if she said she was disappointed in me or something.” That would be absurd, and she doubted Celestia had even invested enough hope in the Elements to consider such things anyway. “She didn’t press for information, either.”

“Perhaps she’s sulking. You, our niece, and Chrysalis all knew Sunset was there and said nothing.”

Twilight focused on finishing the round and managed to snag the smaller discard pile this time. At a rough guess, she’d taken the lead! Only slightly, perhaps, but that wasn’t the point. Thus satisfied, only then did she reply, “Maybe. She hasn’t much been herself lately with you on her mind.”

Luna made an equivocal grunt but otherwise merely shuffled and dealt her cards in silence. They began the next round.

“By the way, I’m fairly certain I can end your banishment early.”

That got Luna’s ears to perk up but, sadly, didn’t distract her much from the game. “Oh?”

Twilight hummed in answer as she rapidly piled card atop card. Since inspecting Discord’s eternal prison, she’d been thinking about the possibility on occasion. She didn’t actually know if she could, but the Elements didn’t seem like the kind of artifacts that made irreversible prisons.

“I would count it as a favor if you did.” They both ran out of moves to make and, briefly meeting one another’s eye, flipped over a new card onto the discard piles to resume play. “But why bother?”

Twilight let an evil smirk play out across her face even though Luna probably wouldn’t see it. “Will you be ready every second of every day for your freedom from now until the solstice?”

A click of the tongue met the question. “Thy mind games shall not win thee the day.” Nonetheless, Luna wore a troubled frown upon her face. It could be a bluff, but she tended to be more straightforward than that in Twilight’s experience. “And rest assured, you may forget that favor.”





It was a fine morning in Canterlot for an early cup of tea to start the day, especially with good company who knew how to make the single finest brew in Equestria. The foals were all still asleep, thankfully, leaving the mares currently responsible for them free to take a quiet moment for themselves.

Rarity was glad the apartment she and Sweetie Belle were to share had a balcony large enough to entertain upon comfortably. The view of the city was simply to die for. She could see much of the city, including the central plaza, before it spiraled down off behind the mountain. Ponies moved to and fro about their business, and she could even see her Canterlot Carousel from here. The little pastel dots moving about its outer walls she assumed were the painters she’d hired to help redecorate at work.

That thought of entertaining important ponies here brought to mind darker subjects. Would it be harmless networking and friendly chatter or would it be intelligence gathering and conspiracies? The idea of helping Twilight rule Equestria from the shadows, she had to admit, excited her. The drama, the wordplay, the intrigue! It was almost enough to make her hope Princess Luna won her little sibling spat with Princess Celestia.

On the other hoof, did she have the qualifications to work as a spy? Certainly not as a field agent, of course, but would she ever have the influence to control high society even just a little bit? It would take wealth, fame, and no small amount of charm. The task daunted as much as it enticed, but it would be a lie to say she didn’t want to try. It would be just like something out of a Shadow Spade novel.

“The air’s not getting to you, is it?”

It took a moment or two for Rarity to realize that had been directed at her. “Ah, forgive me, but my mind was elsewhere. What did you say?”

“I asked if the air was getting to you,” Princess Cadance said. “If you’re not born here or a pegasus, the altitude can be difficult to adapt to.”

“Oh, no. No, not at all. It is a bit brisk for this time of year, but nothing off-putting. I have been wondering something, however. Do you know what’s happening down there?” Rarity pointed toward the castle gates where the Royal Guard had cordoned off a wide area in the city. Security was tight, and they appeared to be investigating something with a passion. She wasn’t sure, but it looked like the EIS might have become involved as well.

“Oh, that.” Princess Cadance sipped long from her tea. “There was an incident last night. I imagine half of Canterlot knows already that Eclipse appeared.”

Rarity’s eyes widened. “The thief?” Getting a nod, she asked, “What did she steal?”

“Auntie’s crown.”

“Oh. Oh my. That’s…”

Princess Cadance suggested, “Audacious? Temerarious? Ludicrous?”

“All fitting choices,” Rarity allowed. She would have went with something a bit more along the lines of ‘completely mad’, but those worked just as well. “Is this why your husband declined to join us last night?”

With a nod, Princess Cadance said, “True to form, she sent out an advance notice. Shining decided to give us our night off, but Eclipse turned out to be more magically gifted than he expected.”

That was more than a little alarming. Captain Armor had earned his position beyond question. It would take a combat capable sorceress to escape him under normal circumstances. Inside the castle, Eclipse should have been easy to catch. That she’d gotten away meant something had gone horribly wrong. “Nopony got hurt, I hope.”

“Mostly just their pride. A few broken bones. Cuts and scrapes. Bruises on most everypony involved. Starlight put herself back in the hospital, but she’ll recover. If you want to hear the whole story, you should ask her, Tempest, or Shining.” After a pause, Princess Cadance amended that last statement. “Well, perhaps not Shining. He’s not in the best mood right now.”

“Understandable.” No matter how skilled the thief, this had to be terribly humiliating. “How is Princess Celestia?”

Princess Cadance shrugged. “The sun is up and the courtiers aren’t screaming about the end of the world, so I assume she’s going about business as usual.”





Despite the oddly familiar soft, fluffy sensation surrounding her, Twilight groaned as she awoke. She would never be a morning pony without magical assistance, and sometimes not even then. In the absence of any pressing matter requiring her to get up and get moving, she turned over and snuggled closer into her blankets. The world could wait for her to doze off and on for another hour or so.

When Twilight at last deigned to open her eyes, she found herself in her own bed in her tower. Celestia must have brought her home sometime after Luna showed up in her dreams. Considering that they weren’t sharing a bed, it’d probably been at sunrise with Celestia only managing to catch a hour or two of sleep, if even that.

The chime of a clock caught Twilight’s attention. It was nearly noon. With how late these movie nights usually ran, Celestia tended to keep her following morning’s work light and flexible. She would have some free time for a private lunch between just the two of them.

Thus Twilight summoned a scrap of paper and, lacking any ink or lead source within casual sight, magicked a simple, ‘Lunch?’ onto it. The flame sending spell quickly formed under her direction, the destination set to Celestia, but she held its ultimate execution on the tip of her horn.

What exactly was she going to tell Celestia about, well, a lot of things? She’d gone behind Celestia’s back with Sunset, to say the least, and her other secrets must have attracted Celestia’s attention after last night, not just her curiosity. There was a limit to how unsupervised she could leave her archmage. Sure, Twilight had claimed to have a secret contingency plan for Luna’s victory, but she couldn’t hoofwave everything away under the guise of a clandestine operation.

Then again, Celestia had dumped enough titles and positions onto her to make Twilight one tiny step short of a political equal. It made sense in hindsight with Nightmare Moon in the picture for Celestia to push her to act independently and largely unchecked. It set a long precedent that would be hard for Nightmare Moon to unravel in the day-to-day functioning of Equestria due to simple bureaucratic inertia. Luna was another beast entirely, of course, but perhaps Celestia saw no need to change what worked.

Or maybe that was mere wishful thinking. Maybe Celestia had grown too depressed to care. Maybe she knew everything and had decided to give her tacit approval. Maybe she was just waiting for a confession.

It wouldn’t be the first time Celestia had opted for option three. Twilight shrank into herself as she recalled the last time that’d happened. She really hated the ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ routine.

Regardless, if Twilight told Celestia she had Luna’s crown, she’d have to explain why she hadn’t at least notified Celestia she’d acquired it. If she tried, she’d have to lean on her desire to protect Sunset. But if she did that, she’d have to explain why she’d dodged the question last night when it no longer mattered. Celestia wouldn’t even need her to say a word to conclude that she wanted to study alicorns, which would in turn expose her ascension plans. If Celestia didn’t just warn her off of a futile quest too many ponies had wasted their lives chasing as Luna had and pressed further, the how would follow.

Twilight…didn’t want that information to exist outside of her control. True agelessness was one thing, a possible byproduct of her research, but only one pony could become an immortal alicorn with all the powers therein for the next who knew how many centuries. The amount of magic required to fuel the process would drain Equus dry of its ambient magic. Even Celestia and Luna working together would fall short! She didn’t want to die waiting. She didn’t want to stack the odds against herself anymore than they already were. What if Celestia changed her mind about trusting Twilight with the power of an alicorn before she finished her work? What if they fell out with each other as Celestia had with Sunset and Luna? What if Celestia found somepony else she’d prefer to ascend? Hadn’t Twilight done enough for the world to be a little selfish? Hadn’t she saved enough lives to save her own forever?

Biting her lip, Twilight sent off her message to Celestia in a burst of fire. She would just have to lie. There was nothing else for it. Whether or not she gave the crown back to Luna, whether or not Luna even knew her crown had escaped banishment, whether or not she would want it back badly enough to go looking for it personally, Twilight would have to point her hoof at Sunset for now. With any luck, Celestia wouldn’t pass that lie on to Luna or have the chance to ask Sunset for it herself.

So many lies. So many betrayals. So many places for this to go wrong. Twilight was under no illusion that she’d be able to maintain the ruse until she managed to crack ascension. She might not even be able to keep it going for the short nine days before Luna’s return. The crown couldn’t stay with her for any longer than absolutely necessary. She’d need to make its study a priority if she wanted to avoid relying upon Sunset’s dubious goodwill.

Twilight breathed deeply, in and out, as Cadance had taught her. She was calm. She could do this.

This was going to be a disaster. She’d never been any good at lying to Celestia. The only way this would work was if Celestia trusted her and didn’t ask questions as she callously abused that trust. She should just trust Celestia, be brave, and tell the truth. She had no reason to doubt Celestia but her own paranoia.

But tiny probability densities integrated to high probabilities over centuries! Celestia and Luna had fought, and they’d loved each other dearly. It’d been over a misunderstanding, sure, but what stopped the same thing from happening between Twilight and Celestia? Nothing whatsoever!

Twilight, startled from her thoughts, shrieked. A flash of fire brought the scrap paper she’d sent off back with an answering message. Scribbled into the margins in Celestia’s elegant script, it read, ‘Sure. Free now?’

After replying that she was, Twilight quickly made herself look a little less like she’d just rolled out of bed. She had, of course, but nopony needed to know that. Once finished, she made to teleport down to the private dining room, but she couldn’t. Not yet. It was too soon. She needed more time to prepare herself for…whatever she was going to do. As such, she decided to take the long way to lunch and descended the stairs of her tower like some two-bit hedge mage.

I should just tell Celestia everything. She’s not going to turn on me. It’d be the brave thing to do. I’m trying to work on that, you know.

Oh, but every little information leak is another opportunity for something to go wrong. This is the worst thing to get scooped on, especially if it stemmed from a slip of the tongue.

Celestia could help, though. Imagine if I had her willing assistance! The research would move so much faster.

Yeah, because she’s going to break over a thousand years of silence on alicorns for you.

She already has!

Uh-huh. A tiny piece of nothing when she strongly suspects Sunset knows far more.

That stung with unexpected force. It was true. The information was already out there. Whatever great secret Celestia protected was no longer wholly her own. It might be hard to talk about for her, but she could have been more forthright about–

Twilight paused, bemused, and sniffed the air near the end of her descent. Is that…chocolate? A stronger inhale confirmed it. She proceeded with trepidation, half expecting to find Celestia at the base of the stairs with cake fresh out of the oven, but her worry proved unfounded. It seemed the source of the smell had eluded her.

How odd. Now where was I? After a brief moment, it came to Twilight. Oh, yes. Panic, indecision, and wildly swinging emotions.

It was entirely too soon later when Twilight walked past the guards through the door into the private dining room. Celestia was already there and greeted Twilight with a brief nuzzle and an accurate good morning. She casually brushed her magic over Twilight’s mane, gently tucking away a few hairs that must have sprung up during the trip down from the tower. Humming some short, nameless tune, she worked with a practiced ease developed from years and years of such doting.

Twilight absorbed the affection without a fuss as her conscience gnawed at her heart. She was allowed to have her secrets, sure, but why was she so afraid to show Celestia the same trust she received? She could do this. It wasn’t right to keep Celestia from her sister, even if it was just a shiny, rigid, inanimate part of Luna.

“My dear Twilight,” Celestia said. One of her hooves rose to cup Twilight’s cheek. “Do you remember your first public address as the archmage? How much tension you carried in your shoulders? How stiff your legs were?”

A nervous chuckle escaped Twilight, yet she felt almost relieved to have been caught. “Is it that obvious?”

“As plain as day.”

Twilight felt her cheeks warm. Her eyes fell as she shifted a step back out of Celestia’s reach. She might as well have been caught stealing cookies from the kitchens again. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad.” Celestia paused a moment, letting the ominous weight of her next words grow. “Or disappointed.”

Surprised, Twilight risked a glance up only to behold a mischievous smirk. Celestia was teasing her!

The mare in question dared to giggle. She booped Twilight on the nose and said, “Gotcha!” before moving to take her seat. She mentioned that lunch would arrive soon on her way to do so. Then as she sat, she nodded toward the chair across from her, and Twilight, more annoyed now than nervous, which had probably been the whole point, took the hint.

“In all seriousness, Twilight,” Celestia began once they were both seated, “while I do urge you to proceed with the utmost caution, if you consider it wise to build a friendship with Sunset, I will not stand in your way.”

“Oh. Um…” That wasn’t exactly what Twilight had been fretting over. “But… Well…why?” Eloquent.

Celestia’s smile pressed into a thin frown. “Once upon a time, she had the potential to become Equestria’s brightest star. If you could…”

“Leash her?” Twilight offered.

Despite the accuracy of the suggestion, Celestia went with, “–smooth her rough edges, she would prove invaluable to you. Just…be careful how much trust you invest into her.”

“I know. I promise.” That said, Twilight doubted it would be much of a risk. Cadance wouldn’t be happy if Sunset made too much trouble in the family. That wasn’t her news to share, however. She would leave that to the mare responsible.

Celestia heaved a soft sigh, and her smile returned with an air of silent gratitude. “Beyond that,” she continued, “it warms my heart to see you reaching out and making friends. Perhaps not the ones I expected–”

Between the seamstress, the enemy princess, Equestria’s most wanted mare, and, she supposed, the pink anomaly, Twilight thought that something of an understatement. At least her student seemed a fit match.

“–but friends nonetheless.”

After a few moments to choose the right words, Twilight said, “Yes, it’s…nice. I don’t regret how I got here, but maybe if I’d given Moon Dancer more of my time…” She shrugged. Who knew if library buddies would have developed into something more? “Or if Luna had somehow pushed through my youthful adoration of you.”

Celestia adopted a look of feigned hurt. “Do you not still adore me?”

In turn, Twilight didn’t bother to dignify that with a response. She really wished she could go back in time and tell her younger self to relax. Maybe she could get through to Sweetie Belle with a few embarrassing stories of her own past with Celestia. Rarity had instilled far too many courtly mannerisms in that filly.

“Speaking of whom,” Celestia said, “do try to retrieve Luna’s crown from Sunset.”

Twilight’s thoughts ground to a halt.

“She’s likely to be far less magnanimous than me about her loss.”

“Ah. Yes. Of course. I” – already have it – “don’t think she knows she left it behind.” Coward. Twilight’s voice grew small. “Just something she said.”

Celestia made a concerned hum but ultimately didn’t press when Twilight didn’t volunteer any more information. “Well, in any case, if the opportunity arises, please do steal it from her. I am not so forgiving as to be above petty revenge.”

Twilight’s lips parted as she tried to force out the truth. The words were there, but they stuck to her throat and sent tremors through her limbs. “I…” She fought not to swallow. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.” She couldn’t do it. “Not so soon, at least.” When was the last time she’d taken a real risk? Even dreamwalking with Luna hadn’t worried her that much. “But I’ll keep it in mind.”

Coward.
> Chapter Twenty Three - Guilt
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sky had become a study in chaos. The parasprites swarmed with an insatiable appetite for feathers. The original population multiplied exponentially beyond control. The invading army hadn’t yet routed only because escape and survival meant forward onto dry land. Retreat would doubtlessly lead to a miserable death at sea with clipped wings. Even those that managed to crash with some grace were out of the fight.

Then she personally entered the fray to put an end to this nonsense. She had research to do, and she couldn’t get back to it until these idiots understood that war wasn’t a game.





Twilight exited town hall at hurried clip just shy of a trot into the busy Ponyville streets. She hadn’t expected to get tied up as Index for so long, but with the solstice fast approaching, she probably should have anticipated issues to start cropping up with the Summer Sun Celebration. Regardless, she hoped she wasn’t too late for a second lunch with Sunset. They really needed to talk. And it would be over lunch, not afternoon tea. No, she hadn’t forgotten after getting caught up with Celestia. That was her story, and she was sticking to it.

Rather than scouring the village for Sunset, Twilight found a quiet place away from the crowd. There she built up a bit of magic in her horn, directed it, and then released it as a crude ping in the magical field. Most unicorns in town would notice. The nearer ones briefly glanced in the general direction of its source, but without an explanation, they quickly dismissed it as an innocent mistake and carried on with their day.

Sunset wasn’t most unicorns. It didn’t take long for her to show up disguised, once again, as Twilight. For Ponyville, it’d become an ordinary event. It was just the festival overseer taking tea with the archmage, after all. She’d pop in and then pop out with her minion too quickly to pester. And really, what did it matter when neither of them planned to destroy the village? Maybe they’d get some attention if one of them transformed into a giant monster.

There was something wrong with this town.

At any rate, Twilight had more important matters to see to now. “Biggest Sister,” she said in greeting.

“Littlest Sister,” Sunset offered in return. It seemed she wasn’t mad about Twilight’s tardiness, or at least not enough so to show it in public. They hadn’t set a specific time, of course, but lunch generally didn’t translate to mid-afternoon. “Late night?”

Not seeing any point in denying it – and Twilight did wonder how Sunset knew – she confessed, “Yeah.” By normal pony standards, they’d all had a late night, but that was mere semantics. When she observed Sunset more closely, however, something seemed off. She couldn’t put her hoof on what at first until she realized that she didn’t feel the usual prickle of envy over how much better Sunset looked as her. “You too?”

“Yeah. Last night was a lot to process.”

Twilight certainly understood that. “Agreed. We should head somewhere private.”

“I’ll take you back to my place,” Sunset suggested. “It’s warded.”

Giving the nod, Twilight prepared herself mentally. She fought off the instinctive urge to push away Sunset’s not yet familiar magic when it fell on her and let the teleportation spell complete without resistance. Without a sound nor a hint of a teleport signature – of course Sunset had the skill not to generate one – they vanished.

The pair reappeared an instant later upon the front step of a small cottage on the edge of Ponyville. From a casual inspection, security was low in a general sense, but as Sunset had claimed, nopony could spy on them whilst inside. While the building was a far cry from what Twilight expected of Sunset’s preferred lifestyle, she supposed subtlety was the name of the game when living in Ponyville so close to all the action.

Once inside, they shed their disguises. The house wasn’t barren, but even at a glance, anypony could tell Sunset had either just moved or didn’t often reside here. To Twilight’s mild surprise, the kitchen and dining room, as a single conjoined entity, boasted the most complete furnishings by far and actually looked lived in.

“You still want lunch, right?”

“Hmm?” Twilight turned away from a bookshelf she’d been inspecting. “Oh, yes. Something light, please.”

Given how well stocked and used the kitchen appeared despite how shortly Sunset had owned it, Twilight only raised a single eyebrow when she set into her task with unexpected skill. She quickly threw together a half-dozen ingredients in parallel – or at least so it appeared to Twilight’s untrained eye – to make noodles from scratch. She tossed them into a magically boiled pot of water and then set to making a tomato sauce for spaghetti. As she did that, she set the table with plates and utensils that hardly matched the cottage’s otherwise rustic aesthetic. The fine silver and china, Twilight assumed, meant Chrysalis had been here. She doubted Sunset would go to the trouble for her or for personal use at a temporary residence like this.

Twilight took a seat upon invitation but continued to watch Sunset move about the kitchen with an efficiency she wouldn’t have believed without witnessing it. When the mysterious dance reached a lull, Sunset threw a knowing look at Twilight over her withers. “Just say it.”

Not needing any more prompting, Twilight said, “You’re a lot better at this than I would have thought.”

“I’m sure you know I grew up in an orphanage. I picked up a lot of mundane skills living there. Do all the chores with a wave of your horn, and ponies tend to cut you a lot of slack.”

Twilight supposed that made sense even if she couldn’t really relate. Living in an orphanage was about as foreign to her as anything. She’d done chores up until she’d moved into the castle, of course, but that had been more of a token thing to teach her responsibility.

“So what’s up with you?” Sunset asked. “You look like you’ve done something horrible.”

Twilight’s ears pressed against her head. Sunset’s words were harsh but undeniably accurate. “Why did you steal Luna’s crown?”

An eyebrow slowly rose on Sunset’s face.

Twilight couldn’t help but sink into herself and stare down at the kitchen table.

“You didn’t.”

Why did Sunset have to sound so… Was that pride in her voice? Twilight couldn’t tell. She just knew it was entirely inappropriate.

“You did. Well, look at you, flying above Sunbutt’s back.” Sunset sounded particularly amused while Twilight only felt even worse about herself. “Must be a family tradition.”

Considering that Cadance had adopted Sunset without so much as a by your leave and that Luna had spent the last millennium dreamwalking in secret, it looked that way. What was next? Was Shining going to turn out to have been a moon cultist all along?

“So you’re keeping it for yourself, then?”

“I wasn’t going to. I just…” Everything that came to mind to say just sounded like an excuse. “I couldn’t explain how I got it without betraying your trust. Then last night she told me why their crowns are so important, and I just–”

Sunset, only a step away, spun the chair beneath Twilight and forced her head up to lock eyes. “She told you?” The words were challenging, almost angry. Sunset didn’t need to wait for an answer to have it. Under her breath, she muttered, “Unbelievable,” and backed off.

To be perfectly fair, Twilight felt a bit like that as well. Celestia might not have told her much, but compared to complete silence, it might as well have been a novel.

“So what are you going to do with your newfound enlightenment?”

The only honest answer Twilight could give was, “Study it.”

Sunset didn’t say anything as she finished preparing lunch in silence. The noodles finished boiling, and at that point, it became a simple matter of pulling them from the water and combining them with the sauce. Or apparently not, as she mixed some of the pasta water into the tomato sauce. Twilight wanted to ask why because watering it down intuitively sounded like a bad idea but kept quiet and let her work in peace.

When everything was done, Sunset set a plate in front of Twilight that looked like it’d come straight out of the castle kitchens. It certainly smelled like it. It probably tasted like it, too. In another life, perhaps Sunset could have been a world-class chef instead of one of the most powerful sorceresses.

As Twilight grasped her fork with her magic, Sunset did the same. With their contesting wills, it didn’t move. Twilight, bemused, looked up from her lunch with a silent question in her eyes.

“Give me the crown.”

Twilight felt her heart skip a beat. Then she gnawed on her lip. Sunset had too relaxed a look about her to be about to attack if she didn’t get her way. Why would she even want it? She’d voluntarily given it up before, after all.

Unless she just wanted it out of Twilight’s hooves. Unless she’d stumbled onto the path to ascension as well. Unless she wanted no rivals vying to become Equus’s next alicorn.

“Just do it, Sparkles.” There was exasperation in that voice more than anything else, if with a dash of understanding underlying it.

Hesitantly, Twilight reached into her bag of holding and withdrew the little piece of Luna in her possession. Worst-case scenario, she’d have no end of ponies willing to help her hunt Sunset down. She passed it off from her magic to Sunset’s.

A familiar spell sprung forth from Sunset’s horn, weaving itself about Luna’s crown. It was, unless Twilight was mistaken, the same one she’d cast upon Celestia’s to keep it hidden. As she worked, she said, “Alicorns do not easily reveal their secrets. They are ponies no different than you or me.” She finished shaping her magic and cast the spell. “Or so they seem.” Now done, she tossed Luna’s crown back. “If she asks, just tell her Sunbutt smashed it into moondust.”

Twilight stared down at the crown, now hidden from its owner, hovering in her magic just above her lunch. She felt like a heel. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, Sparkles. I get it. Wings. Power. Immortality. It’s a lot.”

It really was. And now it’d become a race. The only good news was Sunset didn’t seem to realize this was a competition, and Twilight felt even worse for finding relief in that.

“Do your own research,” Sunset continued. “We can swap notes in a few years. Compare our independent results.”

With a heavy sigh, Twilight returned Luna’s crown to her bag of holding. She could do that much. “I think we’re both going to be busy in the coming years, but I’ll let you know when I have something to share.”

As Sunset finally took her seat and they took their first bites of lunch, Twilight didn’t bother to swallow her delighted, “Mmm…” Sunset really knew what she was doing in the kitchen. It even had that cozy touch that only came from home cooking.

For a few brief moments, Twilight allowed her thoughts to wander to what ifs. If Sunset hadn’t fallen out with Celestia, would this have been normal for her? Would Sunset have foalsat with Cadance? Or perhaps substituted for Cadance to free up some time a few extra dates with Shining? Either would have been amazing.

But such sweet dreams were far removed from reality. Yet it was never too late to reach for them, it seemed. “So,” Twilight began. “You’re my sister now. How did that happen?”

“It wasn’t my idea,” Sunset put forth right away. “Cadey made it a condition of not contesting my ascension to the Crystal Throne. You’d have to ask her for her reasons.”

While that would certainly happen sooner or later, Twilight wasn’t about to drop the subject so easily. “I will, but it’s not like you needed her approval. Her parents are going to contest your claim anyway. So why did you accept?”

“Royal adoptions are a common legitimizing practice. It’s not really an Equestrian thing for obvious reasons, but it happens elsewhere. Removing me from power will be virtually impossible as the empire’s liberator and as a member of the imperial family. Why would I not have accepted?”

“Because I know you ‘turned down’ dozens of ponies who wanted to adopt you as a filly.” Most of those rejections, Twilight suspected, had involved some leg-twisting behind closed doors. Adoption technically required Sunset’s consent, but some regulations had a mysterious tendency to be forgotten when wealth and power got involved, and the prodigious scholarship student at Celestia’s school with no guardianship claims had naturally attracted attention. Despite that, Twilight added, “Some of them were legitimate offers.”

Sunset dismissed the words with a wave of her hoof. “None of them would have gotten me anything. It’s not like I was living alone in a crate in some alley. Why would I waste my time playing pretend when there was more magic to learn?”

Twilight, to mixed feelings, admitted, “I guess I can understand that.” While she held her family close, magic did tend to take a central role in her life. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t defend them to the best of her ability, however. “Cadance is going to expect this to be more than signatures on paper.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sunset replied. “It will be. I’m here helping you with your treachery, aren’t I?”

“That’s…” – an entirely accurate statement – “how I would have put it.” But speaking of, Twilight finally processed what Sunset had said earlier and found the suggestion wanting. “Celestia knows you had it. Luna’s crown. She still thinks you do. If I tell Luna she smashed it, she’ll go yell at Celestia and find out I lied.”

“And between the two of you, who is she going to believe?”

Sunset had a point, but Twilight couldn’t do that. It was a step too far. Even if she had the talent required to maintain such a complex web of lies in her personal life, she wouldn’t do it. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll just ask Celestia on behalf of the future Crystal Empress to say she never found it in the first place. I don’t think she’d begrudge you or the empire that.” It was so much easier to simply deny knowing anything.

“I guess that works,” Sunset allowed with some reluctance.





The doctors made their rounds throughout the night. The great hall, once overcrowded with injured ponies hidden within little cubicles made of sheets, slowly cleared as the doctors discharged the wounded one by one. Most went free without a scratch after treatment. Some limped away with a cast or covered in bandages. Eclipse, true to her reputation, hadn’t critically injured anypony during her flight from the castle, but there were a lot of casualties thanks to the Royal Guard’s staunch resistance. So many, in fact, that the healers had to conserve their magic to get as many ponies back on their hooves as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately, that left those like Flash in the lurch. As one of the more heavily injured, the nurses had provided first aid and then left him to languish in bed until a full medical team could come by to do more. It probably hadn’t been a good idea for him in particular to get so deeply involved, but what had he been supposed to do? He couldn’t have just abandoned his friends or let Eclipse waltz out uncontested!

At any rate, with the dwindling number of patients, the nurses decided to move the remaining ones to proper rooms with better beds and some peace and quiet. Flash’s rest through the night until then had been fitful at best between the pain and the noise. It was nice to finally get some uninterrupted sleep.

When he woke after a nap, Flash discovered that he had a roommate. “Hey, you’re Starlight Glimmer, right?”

The mare in question glanced up from her book. “Yeah. And you’re…”

“Flash Sentry,” he offered. Most ponies in the castle knew who he was by reputation, but not everypony recognized him by appearance. “I heard you fought Eclipse with an injured horn.”

“Eh, well, not fought so much as got my tail handed to me like everypony else.”

Yeah, that sounded about right. Last night had been an exercise in humiliation. If he didn’t know better, Flash would have assumed it was a drill the captain had organized with his sister to launch a new training regime. Honestly, he wouldn’t put it past Captain Armor to use the theft as an excuse to put one together anyway. But that wasn’t what he wanted to say.

“Even so,” Flash began, “if nopony else has said it yet, you’ve got my respect.” With how poorly interactions between the Evening Guard and Royal Guard usually went, he felt that needed saying.

“Thanks. I’m not thrilled to have thaumic burns again, but if it gets Twilight’s brother to ease up…” Starlight trailed off into an exhausted and uncertain smile. “Anyway, what happened to you?”

“Ah. Bad landing.” Flash shifted in his bed to show off the brace holding his wing in place. “Broke a bunch of the important bones and singed most of my primaries before that.”

Starlight cringed in empathy. Despite their differing species, they had fairly corresponding injuries. If thaumic burns of the horn felt anything like a crushed wing, she had Flash’s condolences.

For a while, they idly chatted with one another to pass the time. They’d ended up settling into a discussion of the early Daring Do books for a couple hours when the door to their ward burst open. Their visitor really shouldn’t have surprised him, but he hadn’t actually expected her to show up. The pull from Loyalty went straight toward the mare walking toward him, though, so it had to be the real one.

“So I hear you kicked your own flank.” Yeah, that had to be Twilight.

Flash, in turn, asked, “Am I at least cool for rushing off to protect my friends?”

“You’re an idiot,” Twilight bluntly stated. Her tone carried the same level of engagement as if somepony had told her it was cold in the Frozen North today.

But with that, Twilight’s horn lit with the raspberry glow of her magic, and a few moments later, Flash felt well and whole. He tested his wing, and it didn’t so much as twitch. In fact, he felt a little better than usual. His wing had a slightly wider range of motion, and the flight muscles had a bit more mass to them. Was that a perk of the healing magic or did Twilight have a more fit mental image of him than reality?

Flash offered Twilight a grin and, opting not to correct her error, said, “Thanks for healing me.”

“I didn’t. Wing repair is a delicate business I’ve not practiced. This is only a temporary measure. You’ll need to ask me, Lyra, or Trixie to refresh your polymorph around this time everyday until the solstice.”

Well, that’s disappointing. “Can’t you just make this permanent?”

From the opposite side of the room, Starlight commented, “Only if you want to die.”

“What?” Flash tried to keep the creeping sense of panic out of his voice.

At the same time, Twilight, startled, only now truly noticed the other mare in the room. “Starlight? What happened?”

“Oh, I got back with thaumic burns, and I was still in recovery when Eclipse showed up.”

As close as she was, Flash noticed Twilight grit her teeth. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Starlight paused a moment, apparently unsure what to do with the apology, and then waved it off. “It’s not your fault.”

A moment passed where Twilight looked about to say something more on the subject before she shook her head and dismissed it. “Right, well, get well soon.”

Starlight nodded and then turned her attention back to Flash. “Anyway, polymorphs aren’t perfect. If you don’t include the magic to reverse the changes, you’ll eventually get very, very sick and die.”

“Or be dependent on them to survive,” Twilight added.

“Or that,” Starlight agreed in the same academic tone as though these side effects were ordinary, everyday things.

With nothing smart to contribute and left with a general uneasiness with the magic he was under, Flash said nothing.

“Which is why we always make them temporary,” Twilight concluded. “Regardless, our holiday is over. I need to go pick up the foals. When you’re ready to leave, we’ll all be back at the lab.” And with that, she teleported away.

All things considered, Flash thought this went much better than he’d been expecting.





High up in the archmage’s tower, the sound of music spilled forth. It was a duel as much as a duet. Sweetie Belle took the high keys and the melody while Spike sat to her left and laid down a swinging rhythm that made her want to dance. She fought to keep to the fast pace he set and clumsily stitched together familiar tunes into an improvised, coherent whole. She’d forgotten how much she missed this. Lessons were boring, but just playing? And with a friend for once?

Sweetie Belle felt something stirring within her. Something swelled in the charged air. She felt the rhythm flowing through her and the beat of her heart syncing with the tempo. A grin split her face. She sat on the cusp of discovering something new and magnificent, she knew. If felt almost like a heartsong with her at the helm charting the course it took instead of it guiding her actions.

At once, however, Sweetie Belle recognized that something was missing, and everything fell apart. The feeling faded. The moment passed. The boiling of her blood abated. As the strangeness settled, she slowed to a stop.

Spike noticed at once and set his claws lightly on the next keys he’d been about to hit. The tips fit snugly into little grooves he’d worn into the piano. It posed an idle interest to guess which musical keys he played most by how deep the claw marks went and, from that, what types of music he preferred. She suspected ragtime, jazz, and really just anything upbeat.

“Something wrong?”

That question had no easy answer. Something was wrong, but it wasn’t wrong wrong, only its absence keenly felt while everything else was perfect. Or it had been, at any rate. Everything had since settled down, normalized, returned to the status quo, whatever one wanted to call the blandness that was reality.

“Sweetie Belle?”

“Ah. No. No, I’m fine.” Sweetie Belle returned her hooves to the keys and lit her horn. She wanted to find her way back to that strange, blissful state, but it felt like one of those things that wouldn’t happen if she paid any attention to it. “Maybe something slower?”

Sweetie Belle led into the first couple bars of a saloon song she’d picked up for one of her crusades, a notoriously tricky piece for one but relatively easy for two. With a glance at Spike, she let her magic playing the bass keys fade, and he leapt into her place without missing a beat. A grin lit her face as they hit their stride almost at once. She’d suspected he would know this song, and he hadn’t disappointed. 

Then with the reduced focus required to play with a partner, Sweetie Belle opted to engage in conversation. “You’re really good.” Spike had carelessly claimed he was better than most, but she felt he’d undersold himself.

“Everyone needs a hobby. There are only so many comics to read, and I have a lot of free time on my hands when Flurry is off at school.”

That made sense, Sweetie Belle supposed, except for one thing. “You don’t go to school with her?” She would have thought those two attended together given how close they were. But then he was the son of perhaps the greatest scholar in history. If it weren’t for how busy Archmage Twilight could get, she would have assumed he underwent homeschooling in the first place.

“Nah. I finished years ago.”

“Oh.” A moment passed while Sweetie Belle processed the explanation. “Wait, what?”

Spike chuckled and nudged Sweetie Belle with an elbow to resume her half of the song. “You do know Mom is only eight years older than me, right?”

Now that Spike pointed it out, Sweetie Belle realized that she’d completely forgotten his age. He made it so easy, really. They were roughly the same height, after all, and he didn’t act all that differently from colts her age.

“I’m young for a dragon,” Spike continued, “but do you really think Mom of all ponies would let me use that as an excuse to play truant?”

Sweetie Belle shook her head. “Were you homeschooled, then?”

“Not when day care was an opt–” Spike abruptly stopped playing, and Sweetie Belle trailed off a few notes later. “Oh, horseapples. You heard that, didn’t you?”

“Yeah…” There wasn’t much point in lying. Generosity was hard to miss around her neck.

Spike’s wings shifted strangely, a sign of how new they were, when he brought his arm up to scratch the back of his head just behind one of his spines. Fragments of thoughts flew by in his head as he tried to find the right words.

“Look, don’t make a big deal about it, but Mom didn’t really think about the consequences when she hatched me. Or, well, she did, sort of, but she felt entirely too clever not to go ahead and show that she could anyway. I’ve had this conversation with her, and we’re past it.”

To Sweetie Belle’s ear, that sounded like the truth, and Generosity didn’t pick up any sign to the contrary.

“The point is when I got old enough for school, she was still trying to figure out how to be a responsible adult. She would have homeschooled me, but sending me away each school day just freed up too much time she needed for herself to dismiss.”

As somepony who would receive that kind of dedicated attention from Archmage Twilight soon enough, Sweetie Belle felt it wasn’t her place to express sympathy or otherwise comment. It was bad enough she’d sparked the fight with Trixie. She didn’t need to reopen old wounds between mother and son as well.

“Anyway,” Spike began. He placed his claws back on the piano keys and picked up from where they’d left off, leaving Sweetie Belle to scramble to join him. “Most of my foalhood friends are adults now. A bunch of them are employed in the castle.”

“Flash?” Sweetie Belle asked. Those two did seem to get on fairly well, all things considered.

However, Spike said, “Nah. He’s Mom’s age. But he is friends with one of my friends who went into the guard, so you know.”

“Huh.” Spike’s life was a lot more complicated than Sweetie Belle had thought. “Is it difficult to stay friends with them?”

A rueful chuckle escaped Spike. “You have no idea. All they talk about is money, and work, and dating, and other adult stuff while I just want to play O&O and discuss the latest Power Ponies issue.” He heaved a sigh.

After a moment’s hesitation, Sweetie Belle decided that she couldn’t make anything worse and said, “For what it’s worth, I’ll always be your friend.”

Spike’s smile was somewhat strained, and his thoughts let slip that he’d had that promised made and broken to him before. He did, however, opt to consider it in more depth. Sweetie Belle had been about to make a Pinkie promise to reassure him but backed off and left him to his own contemplations. Eventually, her patience was rewarded when he concluded that she, Flurry, and Ocellus were about the right age at the right time to have a lasting, fully functional friendship.

“Scootaloo and Apple Bloom as well,” Sweetie Belle added. The latter, being the only one of them not moving to Canterlot, was particularly important. She wouldn’t leave Apple Bloom to feel alone or abandoned if she could help it. If letters and visits wouldn’t be enough, they would find a way.

Time passed, and before too long, they finished their song. Since Sweetie Belle had picked the last one, she left it to Spike to pick their next. He glanced at the clock with a thoughtful hum.

“Hey, you said you can sing, right?”

Sweetie Belle cocked her head to the side. “I can.” Personally, she considered herself quite good.

Those were the magic words. Spike leapt to his feet and made his way over to a filing cabinet. He grabbed a step ladder and placed it adjacent. He made it only one step up before remembering that he had wings now, whereupon he kicked the ladder to the side, laughed at gravity, and hovered in place at the topmost drawer. What was the point of having wings if they went unused, after all. He then flipped through the drawer’s contents before withdrawing a couple pieces of sheet music. With his prize obtained, he returned to the piano and slammed the cabinet shut behind him with his tail.

“Budge over,” Spike said, landing on the bench’s center. He handed over the score with a smile and added, “I think you’ll like this song.”

Sweetie Belle, curious, read through it. The piano work was…simple. The vocals didn’t require any difficult techniques. She could certainly sing it, but it wasn’t really her thing. She doubted it was Spike’s, either. It surprised her he even had a copy.

“Shall we?” Spike asked.

With a shrug, Sweetie Belle gave the go ahead to start.





Twilight appeared in the vestibule of her tower. She was late, she knew. She’d sent a message to Spike telling him she’d pick him and Sweetie Belle up well over an hour ago, but Sunset had kept her longer than she’d expected. As such, it wasn’t a surprise when she didn’t find the foals ready and waiting for her. Their location was no mystery, however. The sound of the piano emanated from upstairs, as did Sweetie Belle’s beautiful singing voice.

“Love is in bloom~”

A wail of horror escaped Twilight.





The timing might as well have been perfect. Sweetie Belle eeped when the score held in her magic spontaneously burst into flames just as she hit the chorus. Spike kept playing and glanced behind him. As expected, Twilight stood across the room looking like she’d destroyed some heretical text that claimed magic was nothing but a myth and all observed effects were merely the result of mass hallucinations.

Grinning, Spike sang, “A beautiful bride~”

Twilight immediately threw a silencing spell at him.

Hey, I’m not that bad.

A very confused Sweetie Belle – who had a hauntingly beautiful voice, as it turned out – sent a skeptical look Spike’s way. He suspected it had more to do with asking what he’d gotten her into than any comment on his singing ability.

With reluctance, Spike removed his claws from the piano and spun in place atop the bench. Twilight, with this sign of a truce declared, removed the spell keeping him quiet.

Meanwhile, Twilight approached Sweetie Belle. She lowered herself to her barrel to be at eye level and then, with all the solemnity she could muster, proclaimed, “That song does not exist.”

Spike snorted in dry amusement. “You think that was the only copy I made?”

Naturally, Twilight sent a glare Spike’s way.

“Um…” Both parties turned to Sweetie Belle. “Can I get an explanation? Please?”

Twilight’s reluctance to say anything gave Spike all the opportunity he needed to prevent her from burying the story. “Love is in Bloom is the one and only heartsong Mom has ever led.” With a grin, he sang, “And the magic only worked once.”

A few muttered words came from Twilight.

“You’ll never see her sing or, worse, dance in public. Not after–”

“Enough,” Twilight sighed. “I’m sorry I’m so late, Spike. I should have sent a heads-up.” She then turned to Sweetie Belle. “You have a very lovely voice. I do not.”

Sweetie Belle offered a bashful, “Thank you,” at the praise.

“Now are we ready to go?”

Spike supposed that was apology enough. They vanished moments later, back off to the Frozen North. As they traveled, he idly wondered how everypony else’s holiday had gone.





It was interesting what bits of research Twilight Sparkle had left behind for anypony to browse through. Trixie knew without a doubt that she’d spirited all the good stuff away before inviting company over, but the scraps she’d left behind were nothing to sneeze at. Despite the occasional chunk of pyrite mixed into the gold – seriously, who cared about the optimal way to butter bread? – for anypony with a halfway decent magical education, the lab was a treasure trove.

If anypony asked, Trixie would deny it, but she’d already learned a fair bit just from browsing through the notes about dense magic. The subject matter didn’t have much combat application for her inevitable rematch with Twilight Sparkle, unfortunately, where speed mattered infinitely more than space, but she had a few ideas on how she could upgrade her wagon. If she tidied up the space expansion spells, she could slot in a few more luxuries she’d passed over without compromising the integrity of the design. It’d be a long project but one well worth the effort.

A surge of magic caught Trixie’s attention – Lyra’s, if she wasn’t mistaken. She glanced up from the notes hovering before her. Sure enough, the mare herself teleported in with her lover in tow. Bon Bon nonchalantly scanned the room for threats, nodding hello to Trixie when their eyes met.

Really, those two oozed secrets to anypony who knew what signs to look for. At some point Trixie needed to ask them who exactly they were. Her curiosity was slowly overwhelming her courtesy.

But that matter would keep. For now, Trixie asked, “How was your holiday?”

“It was amazing! We went to Canterlot to process a few immigration documents. Waiting in lines. Signing documents. You know, boring stuff. Then while we were there, we met–”

A stomp of one hoof on another promptly shut Lyra up.

Trixie raised a skeptical eyebrow at Bon Bon.

Bon Bon, in turn, smiled innocently. “We ran into an old friend of mine. She’s an archaeologist, and she needed a unicorn to help with one of her digs. There were a few ancient magical protections that needed clearing, you see. Lyra was happy to help.”

“We went on an adventure!” Lyra summarized with an energy that belied the supposed boring academic work. “There were ruins, and artifacts, and interesting magics. We didn’t even have to fight anything!”

Well, that hardly qualified. What sort of adventure didn’t involve at least one fight or brush with death?

Lyra turned to address Bon Bon. “How long has Rainbow Dash known–”

“A few years now, I think,” Bon Bon quickly answered. “I was surprised as well. You can ask her for details when we get back to Ponyville.” She turned back to Trixie, then, and asked, “How was your performance?”

Trixie quirked an eyebrow.

The couple waited in patient silence.

Trixie let out a quiet snort. She wanted to ask, but she doubted they would give her a proper answer. Setting their secrets aside, she said, “It went well.” Really, was there ever any doubt? Even when Twilight Sparkle had crashed the last one, she’d still gotten a standing ovation. “Word will spread. When the celebration finally begins, everypony will want to see the Great and Powerful Trixie.”

“Well, duh.”

Trixie’s head snapped toward the voice.

“You’re, like, the most amazingest at stage performances ever!”

Resisting the urge to order Niian into staff mode, Trixie narrowed her eyes at the pink one. She hadn’t noticed Twilight Sparkle’s return nor had Flash popped back. Actually, she didn’t know if Loyalty could haul around luggage. It probably could, but she’d have to ask later what the limitations were. Regardless, that wasn’t the point. “How did you get back here?” she asked.

“I walked, silly.”

“That’s absurd. We’re underground with no way out in the middle of the Frozen North.” Trixie looked to Lyra and Bon Bon, but they only shrugged without concern. When she turned back, finding no help there, Pinkie Pie had already lost interest and pronked off to see to something deeper within the lab. “Whatever,” she grumbled. It wasn’t her problem, and she wasn’t an academic.

With greetings out of the way, Trixie returned to her reading. The lovers wandered off to do their own thing – probably each other – and she once again had the peace and quiet she required to parse Twilight Sparkle’s absurdly dense writing. They were personal notes, which made that somewhat expected on some level, of course, but that mare could give Luna a run for her bits in disgustingly compact text.

It was no wonder those two got along despite Princess Celestia dividing them. When Luna got back, they’d probably show each other their labs and geek out or something. Perhaps they already had. Maybe they spent all their time debating esoteric nonsense nopony cared about. Or did they discuss more practical matters of policy? Actually, she’d probably recruited Twilight Sparkle into that ridiculous O&O group she ran. It seemed like the sort of thing that mare would enjoy. Trixie vaguely recalled that Twilight Sparkle was a naturally inclined stargazer as well.

Realizing that she’d read the same line of text five times now, Trixie mumbled, “Stupid nerds,” and tossed the document aside. She knew herself well enough to know she wouldn’t be able to focus properly anytime soon. She’d just continue her work on making more perfect illusions to pass the time to distract herself.

It wasn’t too long later when Twilight Sparkle and the foals returned to the lab. The latter offered a brief hello before running off with each other to go do whatever children without problems did.

The former stayed. Trixie couldn’t put her hoof on exactly what caused it, but a strained air hung about Twilight Sparkle. She’d arrived with it, in hindsight, but it worsened as she moved to engage in conversation without shouting across the room. “Your performance went well, I assume.”

Trixie slowly nodded. She didn’t know what had Twilight Sparkle on edge, but so long as their truce held, she would return the civility. “Movie night?”

“Ah… There were…complications.”

‘Complications’, eh? The foals hadn’t looked any worse for wear, not that Trixie had paid them much attention on their way by. “What, did somepony spill your popcorn or something?”

“No, nothing so petty.” Twilight Sparkle’s eyes, already avoiding Trixie’s own, found a fascinating section of sterile white wall tiles to stare at. She shifted in place. “Could I ask–” Her lips pursed. “No, our circumstances aren’t comparable. Never mind.” With that cryptic nonsense, she turned to leave.

Curiosity demanded that Trixie ask, “What happened?” The ‘circumstances’ Twilight Sparkle spoke of, considering whose company she’d just been in, likely involved one or both of the alicorns. Trixie’s bits were on Princess Celestia.

Twilight Sparkle stopped but didn’t yet turn back to Trixie. As she vacillated, she gnawed at her lip.

It was time to play the trump card. “Isn’t sharing your burdens what friends are supposed to do?” That came off a bit more sarcastic than Trixie had meant it to, but it worked.

Twilight Sparkle snorted and sent a light glare Trixie’s way. “Fine. I let Eclipse into the castle and allowed her to steal Celestia’s crown.”

As far as surprises went, Trixie thought this one deserved the gape she gave it. “On purpose?”

“Yeah.” It was an easy confession rather than the ashamed one Trixie had expected. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure if she could pull it off. She did, but that’s not really the point.”

Bemused, Trixie uttered a long, skeptical, “Okaaaay.” Where was this going?

“I used the disturbance to advance a few plans already in motion. Celestia isn’t really feeling up for her usual long-term scheming, so I’m trying my hoof at it, I guess.” Twilight Sparkle’s gaze fell to her hooves, one of which scraped against the floor. “I don’t know if she would approve. I mean, I do things she doesn’t officially approve of all the time, but this is different.” She turned and set to pacing. “And I’m too much of a coward to ask. And I lied to her. And I covered my lies with things I would have lied about if she hadn’t figured them out on her own. I’ve never – she and I, we don’t do that to each other. We have secrets, sure, but we’ve never – I’ve broken a sacrosanct trust. This will forever stain our relationship when she finds out.” She stopped pacing and stamped a hoof as she softly cried, “I’ve ruined everything!”

This was too weird and too much to unpack at once. Trixie withdrew a tissue from her subspace storage and offered it to Twilight Sparkle. It successfully silenced her as she blew her nose and wiped away the budding tears in her eyes, so Trixie privately celebrated dodging that spell. The last thing she wanted was Twilight Sparkle breaking down on her. If that happened, she’d just summon the pink one and tag out.

“Thanks,” Twilight Sparkle finally said. “I guess I feel a little better.” She made one last dab with the tissue before removing it from existence. “So like I said, not really comparable to your situation with Luna.”

“Obviously. How much has she told you?”

“Basically nothing. I had the EIS conduct a background check on you, but I didn’t get much from it. Sunset declined to share as well.” With a shrug, Twilight Sparkle added, “All I really know for sure is Luna did something to upset you.”

That was a severe understatement, to put it succinctly, but in her magnanimity, Trixie forgave Twilight Sparkle for her ignorance.

“But unless you want to talk, I don’t particularly need to hear what happened. I’m fine with where we’re at right now.”

Trixie flatly said, “Yeah, no.” She’d already pushed her limits on touchy-feely time with Twilight Sparkle.

“I figured, but the offer is there.” Twilight Sparkle shrugged. “Anyway, I need to have a chat with Lyra and Bon Bon about keeping a low profile. Are they back yet?”

“Yeah. They’re probably in their room.” And then because this was entirely too good of an opportunity to miss, Trixie asked, “What did they do?”

Unfortunately, Twilight Sparkle merely replied, “They met up with a famous adventure archaeologist,” before departing to go find the pair. Clearly, there was an official story being passed around. Whatever supposed adventure they’d gone on, even adjusting for their blatant secretiveness, must have been more important than they’d let on.

At any rate, it wasn’t any of Trixie’s business. She pushed the matter from her mind and locked away the memory of Twilight Sparkle becoming emotional in front of her. The fabric of reality didn’t seem to be tearing itself apart, so better to forget than to dwell on such madness.

For now, Trixie would content herself with returning to her work on illusion magic. This was, after all, likely the end of her uninterrupted personal time until the solstice. Whenever Flash returned from wherever he’d gone, it’d be right back to mandatory group bonding. She gagged at the thought.





Rainbow Dash flipped through a dusty, old, but remarkably well preserved book as she idly drifted upside down through the air. She couldn’t read a word of it, or at least that’s what she would say if anypony, with one exception, ever asked. From what she could understand, it was a spellbook, and a hornwritten one at that. Strange ramblings about crystal mirrors and other worlds filled its pages, fitting for a research lab discovered below the old Canterlot Crystal Mine. A peculiar entry near the end caught her attention.

“Huh.”

From across the room, Daring Do – real name, A.K. Yearling, but that was so much less awesome – glanced up from another ancient tome she was restoring. Seeing nothing wrong, she went back to work but asked, “Find something interesting?”

“According to this, coffee isn’t native to our…world? Planet? Dimension?”

“What’s the word?” After Rainbow Dash made her best attempt at pronouncing it, Daring Do said, “Universe,” with a distracted air. She ruminated over the discovery for a few moments before shrugging. “Weird, but Star Swirl is generally a trustworthy historical source. Especially when it comes to advanced magics.”

Well, it sounded like a load of nonsense, but of the two of them, Rainbow Dash was more inclined to trust the professional’s opinion on the matter. She flew over to the mounds of books she’d already skimmed through and set the one in her hooves atop the ‘probably bunk but potentially incredibly dangerous’ pile. She’d read enough fiction to know one didn’t carelessly mess with the multiverse.

While Rainbow Dash waited for the next book to scan, she watched Daring Do on the job. It was long, careful, tedious work to disenchant it, take the thing apart, prepare the pages, replace the binding, and put the whole thing back together. Daring Do, lacking a horn, couldn’t restore the protective spellwork herself, but with the book in good condition for transport, that could wait until it found its way into the Canterlot Archives or wherever it ended up.

Daring Do held up her finished work and exchanged it for an untreated one Rainbow Dash passed off to her. It’d become a familiar cycle, and a familiar question demanded yet again to be asked. This time, Rainbow Dash gave in to it.

“That has to be so boring. Why did you agree to do this?”

“Life isn’t all danger and mystery.” Rainbow Dash largely ignored the chiding tone, especially when Daring Do admitted, “Though to be fair, I usually have assistants to do this sort of thing.”

Rainbow Dash let out a bark of laughter. That sounded more like it. “So why not hire some? The crown is paying, isn’t it?”

“It also doesn’t want anypony it doesn’t trust getting their hooves anywhere near any of this. Star Swirl’s work isn’t always safe to release to the public.”

That was fair enough, Rainbow Dash supposed. “Guess we know the princess is a fan of your books, then.”

“Well, I have signed her copy of the series,” Daring Do allowed. “Several others’ in the family, too.” She briefly fell silent as she carefully removed the pages from the book she was working on. “Not the point, though. I’ve worked with the archmage a few times in the past.”

“Really?” That little, totally insignificant cameo wasn’t in any of the books. “That’s cool. How’d that happen?”

Daring Do paused a moment in her work, clearly considering if she should – or rather could – answer. Ultimately, she shrugged and then went back to treating the pages she’d removed from their binding. “I guess the NDA you signed covers this. I ran into her on my hunt for the Sapphire Stone. I was young. She was younger. I prefer to adventure alone–” She directed an askance glance Rainbow Dash’s way.

Rainbow Dash, in turn, whistled innocently. Yeah, she’d totally gotten in the way that first time for a while, but she’d gotten into the swing of things before the end.

“–but I wasn’t going to turn away Princess Celestia’s personal sorceress. As it turned out, she was evaluating me. When all was done and settled, she asked if I’d be willing to be on call for specialist work and consultation. A genius Her Excellency might be, but an archaeologist she is not. I agreed, so I got called in for this.”

“Huh. Cool. I mean, this is kind of boring, but you know what I mean.”

Daring Do rolled her eyes but didn’t interrupt her work. “If you’re bored, you can leave.”

“Nah, I’m fine.” If she left, all Rainbow Dash would have to look forward to was another meeting about school administration and curricula, maybe some weather management later on that she could finish in her sleep. This was her out. For now, at least. “Thanks for vouching for me.”

“Princess Cadance vouched for you. I said you’d be unskilled manual labor.”

“Ouch.” With two hooves to her heart, Rainbow Dash feigned distress. “Harsh. But fair.”

As Daring Do set the new binding for the book in her hooves, she said, “Not as fair as I thought.” The glue set, and she released it. “When did you learn to read Ancient Ponish?”

Rainbow Dash rubbed the back of her mane. This conversation never went well. The few ponies she’d told who weren’t Fluttershy or her parents invariably thought she was weird. The only believable lie she could think of, though, was to say she’d studied entirely on her own, and she was already enough of an egghead without adding that to her reputation. Not that she thought Daring Do of all ponies would think less of her for that, but still, she had an image to maintain.

With a little reluctant sigh, Rainbow Dash decided on the truth. “I picked up a bunch of the vocab adventuring with you. I had to look up how to pronounce stuff, but I could match nouns on signs to what they led to.”

“Pull the other one.”

Rainbow Dash spun upright, carefully cradling the refurbished book she’d not yet sorted in her arms. “Hey, I’m not lying! Nopony is better than me at making mental maps. That’s the difference between escaping from Ahuizotl into a stairwell and getting cornered in a bathroom.”

“A useful skill to have,” Daring Do allowed, “but hardly an explanatory one.”

“Yeah, well, when I’m flying, I remember everything. Like, everything everything.”

That got Daring Do to stop her work to look up at Rainbow Dash. She arched her eyebrows and asked, “You have a photographic memory when flying? Only when flying?”

“I guess you could call it that?”

Daring Do gave Rainbow Dash an odd look. It wasn’t anything new, but she’d hoped for a better reaction. Now Daring Do thought she was weird too. Great.

Just to drive the point home, Daring Do said, “Strange,” to herself. She gave it a few more moments of thought before returning to her work. Then, to Rainbow Dash’s surprise, she said, “I’ll ask the archmage to take a look at you when I next see her. That sounds like a magical effect. It’s probably harmless, but better to know for sure.”

Well that was certainly a different reaction from usual. “I…” In all honesty, Rainbow Dash hadn’t planned how to respond to that. She went with, “Thanks.”

“No problem. So you just pattern matched a bunch of nouns?”

That about summed it up. Rainbow Dash might have also looked up the language’s grammatical structure one day when she’d gotten bored out of her mind in Ponyville and picked up some more vocab along the way, but nopony needed to know that.

Daring Do clicked her tongue. “I wish I had your memory.”

A grin split Rainbow Dash’s face. “Yeah, it is pretty awesome.”

“Have you ever considered pursuing a career in archeology?”

The question caught Rainbow Dash off guard. “Uh, no. Not really my speed.”

“You have a considerable head start,” Daring Do insisted. “Learning the language of the ancient world is the major hurdle to clear for the best jobs. The kind Princess Celestia can’t fact check. They’re far better paying and much more engaging than weather work. In all honesty, I’d be willing to take you as a grad student when the time came. I technically have a faculty position at Manehattan University that I could leverage.”

Despite how flattered Rainbow Dash felt, she turned the offer down. That kind of academic work really didn’t suit her. Besides, she had a more persistent complication. “Princess Cadance roped me into her new school for gifted pegasi. She’s not going to let me go anytime soon.”

“Huh. Haven’t heard about that yet. As a teacher, right?”

Rainbow Dash snorted. “Obviously.”

“For flight or weather work?”

“Magic, actually.” As the princess had never told her not to talk nor made her sign anything to that effect, Rainbow Dash went ahead and explained the idea behind the school and its goals. She answered a few questions along the way as best as she could. Then when she finished, Daring Do made a few suggestions about what to teach and how but otherwise expressed her support for the changes.

With that, they went back to their own work. Daring Do finished another book, leaving Rainbow Dash with a backlog to work through for the first time since they’d started what one might generously call excavation. The ancient lab was in remarkably good condition despite being abandoned since the start of the Discordian Era. Lyra – and wasn’t that a surprise – had cleared out all of the dangerous magic and left behind a detailed list of what she hadn’t touched. Rainbow Dash didn’t know much about unicorn magic, but from a brief glance at the protections, she’d guess that this place could still survive the Canterhorn collapsing on top of it.

At any rate, Rainbow Dash cracked open an unsorted book. It was, unsurprisingly, another spellbook. This Star Swirl had practically nothing else, it seemed. This one had time as a keyword littered throughout it, so she tossed it into the ‘almost certainly crazy dangerous’ pile without giving it too much of her attention. The last thing anypony needed was some idiot becoming their own grandmother or something.

Without warning, a heavy wad of cloth fell onto Rainbow Dash’s face. She swatted it off of her with far less care than she probably should have shown to a priceless relic. It went flying across the room to smack against a wall, thankfully not knocking over anything potentially breakable. Then once it fell onto the ground in a sad flop to the sound of bells, Rainbow Dash recognized it for what it was.

“Hey, isn’t that Star Swirl’s stupid hat?”

Daring Do’s head snapped away from her work to the hat in question. Eyes locked onto it, she approached with a wary hoof. “Where did this come from? It wasn’t in the room when we got here.”

“No idea. It just fell onto my face.”

As she traced a semicircle around the hat, Daring Do asked, “Did you do anything that might have triggered something?”

“What, like a hat dispenser?”

Daring Do faked a cough. “Star Swirl the Bearded was a brilliant sorcerer as well as a stallion of…many eccentricities.”

“Right…” Perhaps it was best not to ask. “I don’t think so? I didn’t touch anything or do anything different.”

“In that case,” Daring Do began, “we should head back to the surface and ask the archmage regent to make a second sweep of this place. If I’m going to die in some deathtrap or fall under the sway of a cursed artifact, it’s not going to be when I have a support team a short cave flight away.”
> Chapter Twenty Four - The Many Trials of Moon Dancer
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I know this must sound strange coming from me, but it must be lonely.”

The air filled with the sound of soft, musical laughter. “Strange indeed. But no, it only is if you let it. Times change. Friends come and go as is normal, some faster than others or more quickly than I would like. Nostalgia can be a powerful, captivating force. But life is never not worth living.”

When she thought about it, that made much more sense than the romantic notions of eternal melancholy she’d read about in books. Still, that left one more important question unanswered.

“Why are you the only one?”





A knock came at the door to Moon Dancer’s office. How interesting that she was starting to think of it as her office. Putting that aside, however, a guard entered and announced that she had two pegasi seeking an audience with her, an archaeologist and her assistant. They had all the documentation necessary to prove that they were working on some secret project for the crown directly under Princess Celestia’s orders, which made whatever their problem was a priority. She instructed the guard to let them in and see to it that they weren’t disturbed.

To Moon Dancer’s very great surprise, she soon had the A.K. Yearling, author of the Daring Do series as well as several notable scholastic papers, standing on the opposite side of her desk. From the state of her mane and work clothes, she’d just come fresh from a dig site. Moon Dancer also caught the assistant’s name, Rainbow Dash, which sounded vaguely familiar from somewhere, but who cared. This was the first time she’d gotten to meet A.K. Yearling despite both finding employment at the same university.

Keep calm, Moon Dancer. You’re a professional. Play it cool. She took a long breath to steady herself and then proceeded. “Professor Yearling, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

A.K. Yearling’s gaze wandered first down and then back up to meet Moon Dancer’s eye. A frown tugged at the corners of her lips. After a few more moments, she asked, “Are you a student at Manehattan University?”

“No.” It wasn’t the first time a pony had made that mistake, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. Moon Dancer had pushed through her education faster than most. “I teach ancient magics.”

Surprise entered A.K. Yearling’s eyes. “Really? That’s a tough interdisciplinary field to get into. Then again, I suppose Her Excellency selected you as her regent for a reason.”

“Ah, well, she and I have known each other since we were foals is all.” Truly, Moon Dancer wasn’t covering even half of Twilight’s usual workload. “I read your paper on the fall of Pre-Discordian civilization. I’ve looked over the methodology you used to better date the Great Calamity that created him, but for the life of me I’ve had trouble understanding it.”

A.K. Yearling nodded in understanding. “To be honest, I’m not sure why it works myself. It’s empirically demonstrable that it does, but–”

“Oh. My. Gosh,” Rainbow Dash said. She hovered in place just beside and above A.K. Yearling looking as though she’d just been told she had to do a group project with randomly assigned partners. “This is so not what we’re here for.”

Both academics in the room glared at Rainbow Dash for the interruption, but she was right. They all had actual work to do. There would be another time for scholastic pleasures.

A.K. Yearling faked a cough, and they got down to business. “Right. If you’ve not heard, a spelunker recently went deep into the Crystal Mine below Canterlot. An old natural cave system opened up sometime since the last time somepony went that far down. It leads to one of Star Swirl the Bearded’s labs.”

A gasp escaped Moon Dancer. It couldn’t be! But she knew A.K. Yearling hadn’t lied – wouldn’t have lied about something like that. She couldn’t restrain the squeal of unadulterated glee that next emanated from her. She had to see the site for herself!

“Yes, it’s very exciting,” A.K. Yearling said with far too much restraint for a discovery of such magnitude. “Anyway, we already had a unicorn Princess Celestia recommended strip and document the wards and other such protections, but we encountered a problem.”

“And you want a second sweep,” Moon Dancer concluded. “Yes, I understand. I’ll do it myself.” Sure, she might have been abusing the power temporarily invested into her a little bit here, but she could justify it, and there was no way she would throw away this opportunity. “What happened?”

A.K. Yearling gestured to her assistant, and that was apparently Rainbow Dash’s cue to explain the circumstances of their request. She’d been browsing one of the tomes found at the site, performing an initial sort on them, when a ‘wad of fabric’ hit her in the face out of nowhere. She swatted it away in a horrid but understandable display of disrespect for history to the sound of bells.

At that moment, Moon Dancer could no longer but sit and listen. She breathed deeply, trying to contain her mounting excitement. “You – you found Star Swirl’s hat? The real one?” While they had plenty of sources for images and mountains of fakes, the one true hat had ever eluded discovery.

“As far as I can tell at a distance,” A.K. Yearling confirmed.

This was amazing! “Take me there,” Moon Dancer demanded. She was already on her hooves and mentally rearranging her packed schedule in the back of her mind, never mind the consequences, before her guests moved to follow. She nabbed a notebook and pencil for note-taking, and then they were off.

The journey through the caves was long and treacherous. The mine carts barely held themselves together after so many decades of neglect, and the rail system was in even worse condition. Every other step there was some fissure to trip over or a crevice to get one’s hoof wedged in. It certainly didn’t help that the unmined crystals lining the cavern walls at irregular intervals blinded with reflected light.

The chasms, though, were the worst. The trestle bridges spanning them for the mine carts had broken and rotted, and the rope bridges for hoof travel had long since snapped and fallen to their doom. An unprepared earthbound pony would have to turn back then and there. With two pegasi in the group, however, they only had to take care not to bump into the stalactites growing from the ceiling above the terrifying, bottomless black abysses. As she’d never taken the time to turn herself into a magical powerhouse as Twilight had, Moon Dancer closed her eyes, pretended very hard that her hooves were still on solid ground, and accepted a flight across the chasms to avoid burning through her magic. She didn’t know how much of it she’d need once they arrived at Star Swirl’s lab. 

In the deepest depths of the mine at the bottom of the most jagged and terrifying chasm, a crack perhaps two ponies’ height from the ground offered just enough room for a fully grown mare to wiggle through. It wouldn’t offer much opportunity for a hasty escape if A.K. Yearling or Rainbow Dash had to carry Moon Dancer out for some reason. According to them, however, they had to pass through it. Leaving it as it was wouldn’t be safe, but perhaps there was a reason it had been?

“Who did you bring down here last time again?”

A quick explanation followed. A.K. Yearling had asked for a sorceress’s assistance upon receiving her assignment, and Honesty’s bearer just happened to be in town with the head of the Anti-Monster Division. Why Princess Celestia had chosen to send those two in particular, Moon Dancer didn’t know, but she must have had a good reason. Surely they weren’t incompetent.

“How did you get through this hole before?”

Apparently, Lyra Heartstrings had simply teleported them through without a care in the world. Was that a sign of overconfidence, inexperience, or enough skill to just not bother?

Well, the simple solution is to just ask. It would cost a sizeable expenditure of magic given how far away her information source was, but Moon Dancer considered it worth the effort. She needed to know how fully she could trust the magical documentation this Lyra Heartstrings had made of Star Swirl’s lab. Thus she sent a letter off to Twilight asking how much skill the mare had with magic.

A couple minutes later, an answer returned in a burst of flame. It read, ‘I can’t speak to her breadth of knowledge from personal experience, but she could certainly duel on even terms with my brother or Tempest. In her prime, let’s say, she could probably trounce them both working together. If you want to know more, ask the EIS for her file. Her past is complicated.’

It wasn’t nearly the response Moon Dancer had expected – she should really read up on all of the Element bearers – but she supposed it answered her question well enough. Lyra Heartstrings just hadn’t bothered to clear out the tunnel because she hadn’t felt the need. After scanning for any active magics lingering about and finding none, Moon Dancer went ahead and widened the opening to allow two ponies to comfortably walk through it abreast. She did so all the way from one end to another.

The new tunnel led into a large cavern. Moon Dancer didn’t even have to try to feel the lingering traces of powerful magic centuries upon centuries old. This must have been a testing site for Star Swirl’s research! Sadly, the endless years of neglect had turned it into a chaotic mess not entirely unlike the Everfree Forest. Thankfully, however, it lacked the ingrained instinct to lash out that the princesses’ battle had imprinted upon the magic there.

Then Moon Dancer saw it at the back of the cavern. Despite how much she wanted to rush over to the lab entrance built into the stone wall, she approached carefully, horn alight, at the head of their trio. Nothing seemed dangerous. What magics were left to protect and preserve the structure, Lyra Heartstrings had documented properly. Everything seemed to be in order.

They moved inside, and there it sat. The crescent moons and stars were the right sizes in the right locations in the right number. The embroidery had lasted through the test of time. The colors had yet to fade. Even the bells were perfect. That had to be, without a doubt, Star Swirl the Bearded’s hat in all its glory just lying there against the wall.

A piercing squeal of pure joy filled the air.





Far away from Canterlot, a little bubble of calm stood against the fury of the surrounding blizzard at the very heart of the Frozen North. The Element of Magic radiated a feeling of approval from atop Twilight’s head as she examined the banishment spell afflicting the Crystal Empire. She hadn’t lied to Luna. She did think she could dispel the prisons the Elements created, but the longer she studied the magic, the more it looked as though she’d need the entire team to do so.

It didn’t surprise Twilight much. Celestia and Luna would have freed the empire alone if they’d had the ability. She’d thought an extra thousand years of magical development since might have given her an advantage they’d lacked to leverage, but this seemed more akin to lock picking with a hammer. She could either smash the protections – something she didn’t have nearly enough power to do – and hope she didn’t kill everypony inside or she could come back with the key.

“Well, this is a bust,” Twilight reluctantly conceded. But on the other hoof, freeing the empire would be a good dry run before the solstice to see if we can get the Elements working. This sort of delicate work was probably harder to accomplish than just blasting an enemy with magic, but she was aiming to pacify Luna rather than imprison her again. Where to place the respective tasks on the difficulty curve, she was sure, would be a matter of much scholarly debate in the future.

A brief flash of fire drew Twilight’s attention. Another letter from Moon Dancer? Indeed, it was. Curious as to what she wanted to know this time, Twilight unfolded the paper and read through the short message.

A fillyish cry of delight went unheard in the storm.





A letter arrived from Twilight via dragonfire. The amaranth glow of Sunset’s magic snared it from the air before it could flutter to the floor of her cottage.

“Strange,” Sunset drawled with a voice dripping in sarcasm. “I don’t recall giving her my address.” Not that it really mattered. Twilight could have gotten it from Celestia if she hadn’t simply worked it out for herself. It wasn’t that difficult for somepony of her level of skill.

Regardless, Sunset read, ‘Biggest Sister,’ and rolled her eyes. ‘We found Star Swirl’s hat!’

Sunset had to read that again. The words hadn’t changed. A time and a place to meet up tomorrow followed.

Okay, that’s pretty cool. I’d make time for that.





“Who?”

This was apparently the wrong thing to say, as Archmage Twilight looked as though somepony had just told her in perfect seriousness that Equus orbited the sun.

Off to the side, Spike shook his head and radiated thoughts of warning.

Sweetie Belle looked around the rest of the room for help. Nopony else held the same level of interest as Archmage Twilight, at least not from what she could tell, but Lyra and Trixie were both kind enough to silently and quickly inform her of the most basic of basics. Perhaps it was time to change tack.

“Oh!” Sweetie Belle drew out, nice and long. “That Star Swirl. The greatest sorcerer from the Pre-Discordian Era. Who…” She glanced at Trixie in a silent plea for aid. “–invented the amniomorphic spell?” What did that even mean? Trixie smirked, and she had the sinking feeling that she’d just been pranked.

Indeed, Archmage Twilight’s eye twitched. “Dear pupil, I promised your family to provide you with a comprehensive education. I think I know where to begin with history.”

It was then that Sweetie Belle knew she was in trouble. Archmage Twilight picked her up in a firm magical grip and trotted off with her floating along behind. She looked pleadingly back at the other bearers to no avail. Even Pinkie, the most visibly sympathetic, merely waved goodbye and dabbed at an eye with a tissue. Bon Bon turned her head away. Spike hung her out to dry but sent his thanks for her sacrifice, knowing that his mother would be too distracted now to bother pestering him about going to see some ragged old hat.

Traitors, the lot of them!





It was a few minutes before they’d agreed to meet when Twilight teleported into place not but a few steps away. She was alone, oddly enough. Moon Dancer would have thought she’d bring the other bearers along or, failing that, Sweetie Belle. Perhaps they were coming on their own? Then again, she did look a tiny bit disgruntled despite today’s short but exciting itinerary. Had they all turned down the opportunity to witness history?

Thinking better of asking directly, Moon Dancer simply asked, “Are we ready to go?” after they’d exchanged hellos.

“No, Eventide is coming. She should be here–”

A sudden flux of magic deposited the mare in question amongst their small group.

“–right about now,” Twilight finished. She turned to acknowledge the newcomer with an exuberance and passion more appropriate to the occasion than she’d shown but moments ago. “Hey! Are you ready to be transported through history to a more civilized era?” The dramatic hoof movements accompanying the words were unnecessary but appreciated.

Despite the rolling of Eventide’s eyes, she said, “Ease up on the cheesy lines, and you know it. Thanks for the invitation.” She rose one hoof up, bumped it against Twilight’s, and then looked around. “Is nopony else coming?”

Twilight heaved a long sigh. “It’s just us three. No one else understood the significance of this discovery.”

“Not when you told them they can’t read whatever research is there, I bet,” Eventide slyly added.

Had Moon Dancer forgotten to mention the mountain of journals? Oops. Well, perhaps it was better this way.

“Yes, well,” Twilight began in a quiet bluster, “just because I’m obligated to trust them doesn’t mean I do so unconditionally. Lyra didn’t care that much to begin with, but that killed Trixie’s interest. And can you believe Sweetie Belle didn’t even know who Star Swirl is?”

Twin gasps met that blasphemy. No student of magic should ever be so uneducated!

“I corrected that oversight,” Twilight went on to say. “But it’s all the more clear to me how desperately Equestria needs educational reform. I gave up too soon the last time I did battle with the EEA.”

Amused, Eventide said, “Ah, bureaucracy, the downfall of the mighty archmage.”

Twilight harrumphed and muttered something to a similar effect.

“But speaking of, I’m surprised Little Cadey isn’t here. She must be swamped right now.” Seeing the confused look on Twilight’s face, Eventide added, “You did ask her, right?”

A hesitant, “Noooo?” met the question. “Should I have?”

“Yes!” came Eventide’s exasperated response. “She’s a huge fan. I used to read her bedtime stories about Star Swirl’s adventures. How do you not know this?”

A moment passed in silence as Twilight turned inward.

“You know,” Twilight eventually began, “now that you mention it, she helped me learn how to read with those. Be right back.”

And with that, Twilight popped off to the castle.

Moon Dancer, now alone with Eventide, finally had a chance to get a word in edgewise. Not that she really knew what to say. She hadn’t spent much time with the mare during their movie night, and the impression she’d gotten, to put it succinctly, was mixed. Eventide had spent most of the night arguing with Princess Celestia. Twilight and Princess Cadance liked her, of course, and she possessed a brilliant mind without question, but something about her just put Moon Dancer on edge.

Fortunately, Moon Dancer didn’t have to flounder through an attempt to start a conversation.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard how you met Sparkles.”

“Oh, well, I met my doppelgänger in the Canterlot Archives when we were fillies.” A sudden feeling of self-consciousness swept over Moon Dancer as Eventide’s gaze turned scrutinizing. Her head tilted down, and she brought a hoof up to adjust her glasses. “We studied together once in a while after that is all.”

Eventide hummed a little dismissively at the boring explanation. What could she have expected, though? Twilight was the one with a million interesting stories about her life, not the bookworm professor who’d never gone on a proper adventure in her life. The trip through the Crystal Mine had been thoroughly terrifying enough. And maybe just a little exciting.

“So, um, you read Princess Cadance bedtime stories? Did you used to work for her family?”

Eyes narrowing, Eventide said, “Yeah, no.” The hate in the tone came through crystal clear. “I wouldn’t piss on her ‘parents’ if they were on fire, much less bend the knee to them.”

Moon Dancer stuttered out some incomprehensible response. She’d heard the rumors concerning the bad blood between Princess Cadance and her parents, but she hadn’t wanted to ask or known how seriously to take them. If that response served as any metric, they possessed more than a grain of truth.

With a resigned groan, Eventide began casting a series of privacy spells. She muttered, “Why not? It’s not like she doesn’t know already,” as she worked. Then once she finished, she said, “Look, this is probably going to turn into a family outing, so I’m going to read you in on a few secrets, okay?”

Bemused, Moon Dancer dumbly nodded her head. What was she going to do, refuse to hear them? They wouldn’t stop being true, whatever they were.

“Yes, I used to look after Cadey when she was young. We grew very close. I’m sure you can guess why. It’s an open secret that her parents wanted to abandon her to the wolves in some forest at birth. They might have been able to get away with it.”

Moon Dancer grit her teeth. That really painted a picture of Princess Cadance’s early home life, didn’t it?

“Next, Cadey and I just adopted each other as sisters the other day.”

Moon Dancer gaped.

“Lastly, my real name is Sunset Shimmer.”

Moon Dancer’s breath caught. While Eclipse technically ranked higher on the most wanted list right now, Sunset Shimmer had held that position for far longer and would no doubt occupy it long after the thief was dead and buried. This wasn’t a confrontation she had any hope of winning, and right now she wasn’t sure if it was one she was even obligated to start. The whole situation just made her uncomfortable.

“I – you – does Twilight…”

Sunset Shimmer arched an eyebrow. “She knows. Apparently, Sunbutt figured it out as well after we parted ways.”

Sunbutt? Did that refer to who Moon Dancer thought it did? That was so wrong on so many levels. And didn’t Sunset Shimmer also have a solar cutie mark? “I… Okay. I–” What was she supposed to make of this? “Are you a deep cover member of the Evening Guard?” It was the only thing that sort of made sense.

“Pft! Sparkles couldn’t afford me.”

That marked the end of that conversation as Twilight teleported back with Princess Cadance in tow. The princess might as well have teleported herself for how fast she closed in on Sunset Shimmer and wrapped her up in an engulfing embrace.

“Again with the hugging,” Sunset Shimmer complained sans any sincerity as she returned the affection, if with less enthusiasm. “It’s good to see you too.”

Meanwhile, Twilight moved closer to Moon Dancer. “From that expression on your face, I take it you know something.”

“I…” Moon Dancer took a deep breath, adjusted her glasses, and then let the air out. “Sisters. Sunset Shimmer.” This was hardly her at her most eloquent, but she assumed that got the point across.

“Ah. Yeah.” Twilight faked a cough. “I know this might be a little awkward, but if you could keep that to yourself?”

Moon Dancer, without a doubt, knew that she’d lost track of whatever drama was playing out amongst the royal family. If she’d ever even known to begin with. In all honesty, she wanted no part in it and readily agreed to the request. This was Twilight’s responsibility now as far as she was concerned.

Once Sunset Shimmer – Princess Sunset Shimmer? – managed to detangle herself from her adoptive sister, they departed. Moon Dancer had left behind a teleport beacon outside the influence of their destination’s chaotic wild magic on her last visit. With some reluctance, she performed the magic to transport them herself upon Twilight’s, “Take us away, Moon Dancer,” edged with the slightest hint of probably unconscious command. She wouldn’t have given the task any pause under ordinary conditions, but teleporting a group, not just herself, into a cave system so close to a degraded magical testing site made her feel like she was about to give her thesis defense all over again.

But with careful execution that both Twilight and Sunset Shimmer probably overlooked while she focused on her task, Moon Dancer succeeded. They reappeared deep within the Crystal Mines only a short walk from the entrance to Star Swirl’s workshop. The stardust of her teleport signature gently glittered in the faint, lingering light until it floated to the rocky floor below. All three unicorns then lit their horns to provide ample light, and thus they set out at a casual pace, the clip-clop of their hooves echoing all the while.

“So, Middle Sister,” Twilight began. Sunset Shimmer deftly incorporated a facehoof into her stride, and Princess Cadance caught on after a few seconds and turned her attention away from examining her surroundings. “You never–”

“Hold up,” Sunset Shimmer cut in. “If I get the superlative form, shouldn’t Cadey get the comparative?”

“What? No, of course not. What would that make me?” Twilight asked. “The big sister?”

Princess Cadance caught Moon Dancer’s eye and, just between them, arched an amused eyebrow.

Meanwhile, Sunset Shimmer said, “Well if you’re only counting two sisters, then that makes me ‘Bigger Sister’.”

“I mean, I guess…” Twilight allowed with a distinct air of sarcasm. “But from a non-relative perspective, we’re biggest, middle, and littlest.”

“Sure, but we’re not an outside party. Relative terms are expected amongst relatives.”

“You can’t both be my BSBFF,” Twilight countered. “That lacks in specificity.”

Sunset Shimmer paused a moment to try to parse that before giving up and asking, “Your what now?”

Princess Cadance giggled and explained the acronym.

In all honesty, this was kind of a disillusioning conversation. If Moon Dancer hadn’t already known Twilight could get caught up in the littlest things… She shook her head. That would certainly never happen to her.

“You know, Twi, you don’t have to force this.” There came Princess Cadance with the cavalry to save the day from this weird conversation. She wrapped a wing over Sunset Shimmer and pulled her closer into an affectionate nuzzle. “We’ve known each other for years. Why don’t you just try being friends first?”

“Yeah, I know, just…” Twilight tried looking away, but flanked on the left by Moon Dancer and by Princess Cadance on the right, she settled on merely watching where she placed her hooves on the uneven ground more intently. “No offense, but you both kind of dropped this on me out of nowhere as a fait accompli.”

Princess Cadance wore a particularly sheepish smile as she apologized.

“So I’m trying to figure this out,” Twilight went on. “How I fit into it. Reinforce the desired outcome in my mind. I’d hoped for a friend. Sisters is a little…”

Something about how Twilight said that must have clued Princess Cadance in on what she wasn’t saying. “Ooh, you had a crush!”

“No!” came Twilight’s immediate denial. “I just…might have entertained the occasional daydream. It’s normal! Just because my teenage years weren’t a hormonal mess doesn’t mean I can’t comprehend romantic attraction. And I’m just going to shut up now before I embarrass myself any more than I already have.” At a low mutter that Moon Dancer wasn’t sure anypony else heard, she added, “Again.”

Sunset Shimmer took the confession in good humor with a laugh and a very apt, “Awkward.” She then said, “But don’t worry, Sparkles. It really is normal. Royal families inbreed all the time.”

Unable to help herself, Moon Dancer stopped walking to facehoof. Fortunately, Twilight did the same, drawing the entire group to a halt for a few moments until they both recovered.

Princess Cadance had just as bad of a sense of humor, it seemed. “Come now, dear sister,” she began, “you’re not even second cousins. Hardly a good match, that.” She laughed, and then Sunset Shimmer laughed, and they just left Twilight to groan in her mortification.

Privately, Moon Dancer thought herself very lucky that her parents had never saddled her with a sibling.

When Sunset Shimmer eventually stopped laughing, she asked, “Anyway, Sparkles, what were you saying earlier?”

“Hmm?” It took a few moments before Twilight remembered. “Oh.” The conversation descended into idle chatter as she asked Princess Cadance why she’d never mentioned being a fan of Star Swirl. They quickly moved on from that to discussing the stallion himself, a subject to which Moon Dancer finally felt like she could contribute something of value.

A short time later, they came upon the chasm that led down into Star Swirl’s lab. The climb down went far more smoothly this time. When Moon Dancer mentioned having to fly down and back up last time, Twilight went ahead and carved a nice, safe staircase into the rock face. It’d save a lot of time and effort for whatever archaeological team picked up this site after A.K. Yearling had cleared out everything potentially too dangerous to release to the public. Twilight didn’t explain why she had so much apparent skill with stonemasonry, but Moon Dancer was just happy to have all four hooves on solid ground. Regardless, the four of them descended two by two at a relaxed pace, the stone roiling, parting, and reforming before them as they went.

Moon Dancer wasn’t jealous.

Honestly.

Okay, she was somewhat jealous. Maybe she really should start those magical exercises she’d glanced at recently to build up her reserves. There were just so many better things she could be doing than the magical equivalent of lifting weights!

As they passed through the tunnel Moon Dancer had herself carved yesterday, the excitement in the other three grew with their destination so near at hoof. When they made it into the workshop, it exploded. Their eyes darted to an fro, taking in each artifact, both functional and broken, and lingering on the piles of books and tables of mostly broken equipment.

Princess Cadance fluttered in place like a filly a quarter of her age and then flew off to snatch up one of Star Swirl’s adventuring journals. Twilight gaped at just how much knowledge had been squirreled away right below her hooves all her life. Sunset Shimmer, although visibly not unmoved herself, reached up with a hoof and pushed Twilight’s jaw up with an amused smirk.

It did little good. Twilight lasted but seconds before she started hyperventilating, an understandable and most appropriate reaction to such a well preserved cache of Pre-Discordian literature. She went through some sort of breathing exercise that calmed her just enough to sputter out one or two words of sentences before short-circuiting and trying and failing again over and over.

“You know,” Sunset Shimmer began, not even bothering to hide the mischief in her words, “the solstice isn’t even two weeks off. Do you really have time right now to go through all this?”

Twilight teleported in front of Sunset Shimmer. Her forehooves shot up to land upon each side of the mare’s withers. With a manic look in her eyes and a desperation to ignore reality, she cried, “Don’t take this away from me!”

All the noise so far had attracted attention. Rainbow Dash emerged from further within the workshop, flying as was her wont, with a book tucked against her chest. Her first words were, “Hey, those are sorted!” before she realized who she was speaking to, at which point she added an uncharacteristically subdued, “Your Highness.” Then she noticed everypony else in the room. “Oh, you’re all here.”

With the others still slightly preoccupied, Moon Dancer went ahead and made introductions. “You know Princess Cadance, of course, but this is Archmage Twilight Sparkle and…uh, their friend, Eventide.” She didn’t know if those two had cooked up any more elaborate of a backstory for Sunset Shimmer, but that would do for now. “Twilight, Eventide, this is Rainbow Dash, A.K. Yearling’s assistant.”

Rainbow Dash opened her mouth, probably to offer her own greeting, when Twilight cut her off.

“Wait. Rainbow Dash? From Ponyville?”

A moment of confusion passed over the the mare’s face. Before long, however, it turned into a confident grin. “Oh, you’ve heard of me, eh?”

Twilight, rather than address that, went straight to asking, “Where were you thirteen days ago?”

Precisely nopony knew how to respond, and only Rainbow Dash’s uncertain, “Uh…” broke the silence.

Princess Cadance tapped a hoof against her book. “Wasn’t that the day I first called you to the castle?” She got a shrug and shrugged back. “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t. Not anymore. Just forget it.” Twilight heaved a heavy sigh and then levitated a book to her from the pile labeled ‘almost certainly crazy dangerous’. Just as she cracked it open and started reading, however, her eyes snapped back up. “Hey! You’re the one who hit me with a door!”

“What! No I didn’t! I think I’d remember if I…” A pair of cerise eyes widened as Rainbow Dash’s face warped into an expression of horror. “Oh, ponyfeathers. That was you?”

As riveting as this strange, unfolding drama no doubt was, Moon Dancer tuned it out in favor of keeping an eye on Sunset Shimmer. She had no idea what the protocol was for this situation. Twilight and Princess Celestia, for some strange reason, hadn’t given her a crash course on security clearance as it pertained to infamous criminals who’d recently joined the royal family. Given what types of ponies filled the Evening Guard’s ranks, though, she was leaning on the side of noninterference.

Moon Dancer brought a hoof up to massage her temple. This whole situation was giving her a headache. And now Sunset Shimmer had picked up a primer on multiverse theory, if she remembered correctly. Sure, Princess Cadance was distracting her with sketches from Star Swirl’s journal – a trio of sirens at the moment, it looked like – but that wouldn’t last forever.

Seeing that Rainbow Dash had left to go fetch A.K. Yearling, Moon Dancer sidled up to Twilight. At a whisper, she asked, “Should we be letting her read those?”

Twilight hummed and followed the furtive nod of Moon Dancer’s head from her book to the mare at issue. “Oh. No reason not to. She became an epic-level sorceress almost before we were born. What is she going to do that she can’t already?”

That was, Moon Dancer admitted, a fair point. As an argument, it had its flaws, but it really cut to the chase. With that, she internally passed off responsibility for Sunset Shimmer’s actions to Twilight and went to find something for herself to read. She had work to get back to now that her duties as a tour guide had finished, but so long as she was here, she might as well take a little break. What harm could there be in a few minutes of indulgence?

An hour later, somepony ripped Moon Dancer’s book from her magic. She looked up, startled and annoyed, and found Twilight only a single step away from her.

“I’d make a joke,” Twilight began before Moon Dancer could get a word in, “but then I’d be opening myself to retaliation.” No truer words had ever been spoken. “Eventide and I want a third opinion. We’ve got something interesting, but I don’t want to bias you with what until you’ve had a look yourself.”

Well, perhaps Moon Dancer could forgive this interruption to her reading time. She adjusted her glasses now that she wasn’t staring into a book and better took in the scene before her.

A few hooves off the ground, Rainbow Dash hovered in place with a book in her hooves that definitely hadn’t been here before. Perhaps Twilight have given it to her? Regardless, her eyes moved back and forth in the telltale sign of a fast and enthusiastic reader, but for reasons unknown, she maintained an otherwise aloof demeanor.

Below, Sunset Shimmer’s horn glowed. Moon Dancer, well familiarized with magical analysis, only needed a casual glance at the notes she was taking to guess what variety of spells she had active. Given that the subject of them appeared to be a living pegasus, that narrowed down the specific possibilities even further.

Scattered around nearby were a few miscellaneous objects of unknown purpose. A few pages of small, dense text sat on the floor. A strange pair of matching…Moon Dancer hesitated to call the grids of color paintings, but she didn’t know a better way to describe them other than as eyesores. It even looked like an improvised memory game had its cards carelessly cast aside.

“Do I get any hints at all about what I’m supposed to be looking at?”

“Nope!” After a moment, Twilight revised her assessment. “Well, Rainbow Dash is the subject of inquiry, if you haven’t figured that out yet. Don’t take this as an excuse to read everything Star Swirl wrote here first, as interesting as it all is.”

That would have been a clever trick if Moon Dancer had thought of it herself.

At any rate, Moon Dancer approached Rainbow Dash and quickly went through the usual consent requests when it came to live experimental subjects. The mare, having clearly been through this once or twice already today, waved her off with a distracted, “Yeah, sure,” whenever the inflection of her voice sounded like a question mark. It was good enough, she supposed, so she went forward with her investigation.

Moon Dancer had expected active flight magic, and that was certainly present, but that hardly even scratched the surface. “What is this mess?” she exclaimed before she could stop herself. That hadn’t been very professional. She quickly composed herself. “My apologies,” she offered first. “I haven’t seen magic this tightly woven outside of Twilight fully outfitted for battle.” Disregarding the trap laid in the Old Castle, of course.

That, very incorrectly, caused Rainbow Dash to puff out her chest a little from pride.

Moon Dancer cut Rainbow Dash off before she could make a fool of herself. “Honestly, it’s a miracle you haven’t developed a medical condition from bits of solidified magic forming inside your body.”

“What?” Alarmed, Rainbow Dash asked, “Can that happen?”

Sunset Shimmer idly answered, “Unlikely. You’ve been this way your whole life,” as she scribbled on whatever her notes were about.

“We did notice a little waste magic as such,” Twilight added when that didn’t prove very reassuring, “but you seem to have adapted to reincorporating it into your spellcasting automatically. A passive magical ability, most likely, rather than anything biological. Regardless, there’s no clear harm in it.”

Eminently curious, Moon Dancer looked for the signs of such in Rainbow Dash and found them almost immediately. The effect was least pronounced in her wings, likely because she was actively expending magic in them to maintain her hover. That would keep the buildup comparatively small in theory. Moon Dancer doubted she would have missed this phenomenon once she continued her examination, but she still felt chagrined. Her poor conduct had forced the others to bias her analysis to calm their test subject.

After a bit of self-chastisement, Moon Dancer carried on with her investigation. It was a fascinating mess to detangle. Rainbow Dash’s magic spread throughout her entire body. Pegasus magic wasn’t anywhere near Moon Dancer’s specialty, but she recognized some of the more common applications: temperature regulation, flight, eye protection, cloudwalking, and such. The rest, though, remained as mysterious as any black box system. And it was a big and dense black box that liked to adapt to changing circumstances. This was an analyst’s worst nightmare. A pony could spend years of dedicated study on it and still end up scratching her head.

But Moon Dancer could make educated guesses. “Well, you have magic running all through you. It’s everywhere: skin, muscles, bones, organs, brain. I’d imagine it’s even affecting itself.”

“Which means…” Rainbow Dash asked.

Considering what little Moon Dancer knew of the mare, she went with, “In laypony’s terms, smarter, stronger, faster. I honestly couldn’t tell you what all it does, but that’s my best guess without bringing you into a lab for a few years of study.”

Rainbow Dash was, naturally, unenthusiastic about that prospect.

“Other than the possible magical buildup, it looks purely beneficial. I don’t think it’d be entirely wrong to make a comparison to the self-reinforcement earth ponies engage in.” Moon Dancer turned to Twilight and Sunset Shimmer to hear their thoughts.

“That’s roughly the same conclusion we reached as well,” Twilight offered. “But there are some interesting effects worth mentioning.” She turned to Rainbow Dash and asked, “What’s the fifty-second word on the seventeenth page of the book you’re reading?”

Rainbow Dash paused for perhaps ten seconds, her eyes seemingly reading nothing, and then replied, “Further.” Remarkably, she then flipped to the page in question to prove that she was right.

Moon Dancer gaped. She knew a few tricks to improve memory, but nothing even approaching the level of perfect recall.

“And the memories stick past deactivation,” Sunset Shimmer said. For the benefit of the two in the room who didn’t understand the implications, she continued, “Long-term memory is mostly stored in our magic, and she’s writing directly to it. That is fascinating all on its own, but the potential applications are innumerable if we could isolate what’s causing it.”

A now very nervous Rainbow Dash, who hadn’t missed the nearly identical look all three unicorn’s wore, asked, “You’re not going to try to turn me into a lab rat, are you?”

Princess Cadance cleared her throat. “Twilight, Eventide, I’ll remind you that I found her first and hired–”

“‘Hired’,” Rainbow Dash groused, not that Princess Cadance paid her any attention.

“–her to teach magic at my school. I expect her to show up to work each day in one piece.”

Rainbow Dash flew higher in the room, creating a pointless amount of distance between them all, and said, “Thanks for nothing, Your Highness.”

Predictably, Princess Cadance just giggled. Moon Dancer was beginning to understand her sense of humor.

“Well, it’ll be a long-term project for another day,” Twilight reluctantly allowed. “It won’t be easy or fast, and we sadly all have more immediately pressing concerns.”

Sunset Shimmer heaved a heavy sigh. “Unfortunately, you’re right.” She turned to Twilight. “Still, I think we can afford to goof off for a little bit longer. I found this book about universe hopping via crystal mirrors.”

“Ooh, sightseeing across the multiverse?”

“Sounds like a fun holiday for sometime after the solstice, right?”

“And who knows what we could pick up as souvenirs.”

“Let’s be honest. We’re going to plunder the multiverse for magical knowledge, aren’t we?”

“Well yeah, but you can’t just say it.”

Moon Dancer facehoofed. Was Sunset Shimmer that bad of an influence on Twilight, or had she always been this way and Moon Dancer just hadn’t noticed? At any rate, the pair wandered off together to the corner of the workshop Sunset Shimmer had claimed for her own use and, more importantly, the books piled up within it. However, having skimmed through the research notes on the crystal mirrors herself yesterday, Moon Dancer knew those two were going to be in for disappointment.





The sad truth of reality was that it waited for nopony. The time lost to the pleasures of ancient literature, magic, and artifacts would never return. Alas, for the cruelties of the universe were endless.

Moon Dancer would need to see to fixing that someday.

For now, however, Moon Dancer shuffled from appointment to appointment in a mad scramble. She had a lot to catch up on after how distracted she’d gotten yesterday. As she trotted, she read through the less sensitive documents that found their way onto her desk.

Cloudsdale needed an external inspector to evaluate any lingering magical effects of a lightning leak due to crown regulations? Fine. She’d send one of the less rowdy members of the Evening Guard to take care of that. She’d also make a note to suggest the weather department maintain a national oversight team rather than outsourcing this sort of routine local work. Since Twilight hadn’t already forced that change through, she suspected politics got involved, but that wasn’t her problem.

Ponyville needed some assistance with the traditional magical aspects of the Summer Sun Celebration? There were plenty of nobles with nothing better to do who’d jump at the chance to make that problem go away for free. It wouldn’t cost them much, and having a hoof in the festival, Moon Dancer had discovered during her short time as the archmage regent, gave them something to brag about.

The Wonderbolts sent in another report concerning the Frozen North? Moon Dancer shuffled that one to the back of the pile. No ponies went into that frozen wasteland but Twilight and her guests.

Moon Dancer walked into Princess Celestia’s office all but unannounced, and wasn’t that an odd thing to have gotten used to? Unlike her, the princess had managed to find time for a short respite from the daily grind with a cup of tea. A waltz, though not one she recognized, emanated from a worn phonograph at a volume high enough to be heard but low enough so as to not demand attention. The princess faintly hummed along to the music, eyes closed, in perfect tranquility.

It was a shame to interrupt, but needs must. “You wanted to see me, Princess?”

Princess Celestia raised a hoof and gestured in silence toward the seat opposite her. It was only then, once Moon Dancer had settled, that she truly stirred from her rest. “Tea?” she offered. “It’s chamomile.”

As tempting as that was, Moon Dancer declined. She really didn’t have the time to get comfortable today.

“More for me, then.” At a casual pace, once more humming that background waltz, she poured herself another cup. Only once it met her exacting standards did she raise it to her lips. A long, slow sip then drew a delighted purr from her. “Perfection.” She set the cup down. “It occurs to me, Moon Dancer, that I never asked after your grad students. Are they doing well?”

Moon Dancer winced. “I, uh, don’t actually know, Your Highness.” She’d put her actual job off entirely in favor of Twilight’s. The university hadn’t complained, of course, because this would do more for it than a dozen successful grant proposals, but she probably should try to find a better balance than a hundred percent and zero.

If Princess Celestia found that objectionable, she didn’t show it. “Understandable,” she allowed. “Have any graduated yet under your care?”

“No, this is only the third year I’ve been allowed to be a grad adviser. Strangely enough, no university wanted to give me a faculty position until I was older than the undergrads.”

That earned a chuckle from Princess Celestia. “Twilight experienced similar concerns around that age. Equestria has never had a younger archmage, but she proved herself in time.” She feigned a tired sigh, not bothering to hide the smirk pulling at her lips. “I have nothing but foals refusing to play with the younger children for subjects.”

Moon Dancer doubted she could say anything without walking into a trap, so she wisely remained silent.

As the conversation died down, Princess Celestia sipped from her tea. “Now then,” she said as she replaced it upon its saucer, “this morning I went through several records for my school. I have a very talented student who I strongly suspect is overreaching. However, I fear Twilight has skewed my expectations. I would appreciate your advice on how I should approach this.”

“I… Well, I don’t mind,” a bemused Moon Dancer said, “but university is a very different environment.” She should know. She’d gone through both. “I usually just suggest picking an easier problem and explain why when my grad students do that. Foals are…illogical at the best of times.”

“Nonetheless,” Princess Celestia insisted. “I think you are well qualified in this particular case.”

Then if they were to proceed, Moon Dancer needed more information. “Okay. Without breaking confidentiality, what more can you tell me about the situation?”

Princess Celestia hummed in thought through another sip of tea. “The project involves one of the great unsolved mysteries of magic which I know with certainty has a solution. I recently learned of a breakthrough on the subject. A tentative first step of perhaps thousands toward the answer. The student in question has the talent and tenacity to pursue it further. Any advancement at all would be remarkable and worthy of further inquiry, but I fear the consequences such success would bring. Ponies have wasted their lives on this fool’s errand since before I was born without any such encouragement.”

“Ah.” Moon Dancer understood what was going on now. “Princess, everypony who dreams of magic takes a crack at some subset of those problems at some point in their life. I worked on disproving the Stern Heart Conjecture for years before giving up.”

For a few moments, Princess Celestia furrowed her brow in thought. Then her eyes widened in recognition. “Oh yes, the one about the use of irrational algebraic numbers in spellcasting. I nearly forgot we formalized that notion. Alas, the perils of a long life. Did you take a mathematical or magical approach?”

“Magical,” Moon Dancer replied. “I thought I could bypass the intuitive limitations if I parallelized the spell construction with some metamagic, but I never figured out a useful way to do it.”

“Clever. So your advice, then, is for me to let this run its course?”

Moon Dancer nodded. “Better to let the student get it out of their system than to bottle it up. You probably only need to step in if it becomes an obsession with no results. I, at least, would have driven myself to distraction if I hadn’t gone through my fling with high-hanging fruit.”

That drew a bout of laughter out of Princess Celestia. “I will take your words and hold them close to my heart. Thank you for listening.”

“It was no trouble, Princess. If that was all, though, I should get back to work.”

Princess Celestia held up a hoof, forestalling Moon dancer’s departure. “There was one other matter. I intend to give a public address in two days’ time. Would you see to the security arrangements for me?”

It would take some time, but Moon Dancer didn’t see too many difficulties arising. There was one thing, however. “Isn’t that Captain Armor’s job?”

“Usually, yes,” Princess Celestia replied. “Unfortunately, he left Canterlot early this morning to pursue an unlikely lead on Eclipse. You can delegate much of the work to his vice-captain and the EIS, but please keep an eye on them. With both Twilight and Captain Armor absent, the castle is somewhat short-hooved on unicorns skilled in ward construction.”





Moon Dancer plucked her glasses from her face and rubbed a hoof into the property they’d just vacated. How did Twilight do this job without snapping? She tossed aside both the Wonderbolts report from the Sparkling Sea and the request for assistance from its inhabitants. Both were bad enough to make a mare want to flip the table, storm out, and never return.

Nonetheless, a response needed organizing. Moon Dancer was tied to Canterlot and couldn’t go. Queen Chrysalis had her own hive to look after and probably wouldn’t take the job even if she were a free agent. Twilight didn’t have time with the solstice drawing near. Princess Celestia had a nation to govern. That really only left her with one bad option for something of this magnitude.

Well, on second thought, Moon Dancer could try reaching out to Sunset Shimmer.

No, that was a terrible idea. Life didn’t need to become any more complicated than it already had.

So Moon Dancer asked one of the guards posted at her office door to send for Tempest. It wasn’t a battle mage that she needed, but she would work with the resources she had available and plan accordingly.

It was roughly a quarter of an hour later when Tempest finally arrived. She placed herself right in front of Moon Dancer’s desk and offered a shallow bow – respectful, certainly, but absent of the fervor she showed Twilight. Upon rising, she asked, “How can I be of service, Ma’am?”

“That depends. Is Starlight fit for travel?”

Tempest, rather than answer immediately, searched Moon Dancer’s eyes for who knew what. “Travel,” she eventually said skeptically, “and very little else.”

That might be enough. “Could she do theory work while you performed the practical aspects?”

“Possibly,” Tempest allowed. “What did you have in mind?”

Moon Dancer summoned a globe from across the room and spun it so that the Sparkling Sea faced them both. She’d need it as a visual aid soon enough. Meanwhile, she began briefing Tempest on the situation.

“You’re familiar with the seaponies? The giant monsters they fight for sport?” Saying that out loud almost hurt. Nonetheless, Tempest nodded, so Moon Dancer carried on. “Well, the Storm King decided to go after the Pearl of Transformation.”

Tempest, already knowing where this was going, groaned. “He acted on bad information and went after the actual seaponies, didn’t he?”

“Yeah.” According to the report, the seaponies had barely noticed him. Moon Dancer wouldn’t have even known who it was if not for the description one of them had managed to provide. “But that’s not the problem. He showed up while they were fighting an abyssal horror and interfered with their…” She breathed in deeply, held it, and released it once properly resigned to saying it. “–their, and I quote, ‘certain kill giant vortex maneuver’. It’s less of a mouthful in their language.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

That was probably the correct response. Moon Dancer put that behind them and continued, “Anyway, the magic went wrong. They won the battle, of course, but their final attack spun out of control and became wild magic.”

Tempest’s eyes shifted toward the globe.

In answer to the silent question, Moon Dancer summoned a few pins from one of her desk’s drawers. She placed them according to the coordinates the Wonderbolts’ report had provided, carving out a vast swath of the Sparkling Sea. For reference, she also added an illusion that showed the westward trade winds cutting a large chord through the vortex. Worse, the winds and currents were at odds with each other. A ship could either follow the current to its doom or it could struggle to escape until the crew starved. The massive whirlpool would be the death of thousands if nothing was done.

“The seaponies named it Charybdis after the ancient sea monster. They think it’s ‘neat’.”

Tempest finally tore her eyes away from the globe and shook her head. “Perhaps if you can breathe underwater.”

“Quite,” Moon Dancer uttered crisply. Why did Aquestria have to be their neighbor? “Luckily for us, the seaponies recognize that a giant death vortex is bad for, I presume, international relations. They didn’t specify why they want it gone, only that they can’t figure out how to get rid of it.

“Now I know this sort of assignment isn’t really your area of expertise, but we’re stretched thin, and this is kind of important. Would you escort Starlight and serve as her crutch until she recovers?”

Tempest frowned. “I wouldn’t be here for the solstice?”

“Very likely not.” Moon Dancer didn’t see any quick fix to this problem. It could take days, weeks, moons, or, potentially, even seasons. Large scale disasters didn’t like to go away. “Twilight says she has the Nightmare Moon situation under control, but if she needs you, she’ll have plenty of time to recover you.”

After a few seconds’ thought, Tempest asked, “This is purely a noncombat mission?”

“Mhm. Diplomacy and theory work only.” Neither were particularly Tempest’s strength, but in all honesty, there wasn’t much Moon Dancer could ask her to do right now in good conscience. Her condition made it too risky to send her out alone on dangerous missions, and Starlight was the only other member of the Evening Guard who could keep up with her. “For what it’s worth, the seaponies promised to clean up their mess once they know how. The heavy lifting will be up to them.”

“Have you asked Starlight yet?”

Moon Dancer shook her head. “I didn’t want to bother her until I had an escort lined up first.”

Tempest turned her gaze back to the globe, whereupon she hummed in thought. Her expression changed very little even as she finally said, “Very well. If Starlight agrees, I’ll go with her.”





With how her life had changed in recent weeks, it only occurred now to Moon Dancer that she needed to actually check her mail. Not everything came by dragonfire. Not everything landed in the mailbox of the archmage regent, something which she’d also never checked because all of it got forwarded to her office.

So when Moon Dancer remembered her resolution yesterday to pay a little attention to her actual job, it took her a while to find where the castle staff kept her personal mail. She probably could and should have sent somepony to do that for her, but the act of physically picking up her mail grounded her in a way that she hadn’t been since Twilight had pulled her from Manehattan University. She was just a professor in a field almost nopony studied with papers only a few dozen ponies would ever read whose audience just so happened to include the real Archmage of Equestria. It was a sobering moment.

And then Moon Dancer saw just how many letters she had, and she wished it would all go away. Her grad students were the most frequent – if not most numerous – offenders, taking hundreds of words to get across something that could have easily been pared down to a dozen. She remembered those days and fully intended to respond with the same succinctness her own adviser had used. Maybe then they’d reach enlightenment someday.

The undergrad letters, in contrast, came with a deluge of pointless questions with equally trivial answers and frustrating nonsense about grades. Really, if they would just learn the material they’d paid to learn, they would do fine. It wasn’t that hard! Sadly, Moon Dancer knew she’d have to provide a bit more nuanced of an answer than that if she wanted to have a job come autumn.

Then again, Moon Dancer technically didn’t have to answer any of the undergrad letters. She’d officially gone on sabbatical, if perhaps during the middle of the spring semester. She owed them nothing. She only had a responsibility to her grad students and her upcoming coauthors.

And there were an awful lot of undergrad letters she didn’t want to answer.

And she had a very lovely fireplace in her castle apartment.

And the nights did get oh so very cold in Canterlot.





“Don’t just stand there! Let me through!”

Moon Dancer silently groaned to herself. That sounded like Spitfire’s voice. What now?

“This cannot wait, you worthless palace ornaments!”

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Moon Dancer vaguely recalled that the EIS and the Royal Guard didn’t have the best history together. She wasn’t clear on the details, but she knew tensions had finally boiled over when Twilight rose to power. That had been all over the news until things settled. Perhaps she should intervene before Spitfire reopened old wounds in her haste.

Moon Dancer’s gaze swept across the other ponies gathered around the table with her. They were just discussing the final arrangements for Princess Celestia’s public address tomorrow. Most of the work was already done, and the vice-captain of the guard and the head of EIS’s internal security seemed to have things under control. She didn’t really need to be here. Security wasn’t something she had much experience with. She’d ensure the wards were set up properly later tonight, but for now, she politely excused herself to see to matters better matching her skill set.

Outside the pavilion erected for on-site administrative use, Moon Dancer spotted Spitfire attempting to fly past a small contingent of guards preventing her from interrupting the meeting. It would be hard to miss her between her coloration and the attention she was drawing to herself. In turn, she recognized Moon Dancer leaving the tent almost immediately and called out for her. She ordered the guards to let Spitfire through, and not long later, they’d found a private space to speak.

“Please tell me the seaponies haven’t made things worse,” Moon Dancer said, nearly begged. If they had to expand search and rescue patrols over that vortex or even further across the Sparkling Sea, they’d have to start mobilizing the military proper, and absolutely nopony wanted that.

“No, Ma’am,” Spitfire replied. “It’s another incident in the Frozen North.”

This had to be Twilight’s doing. Moon Dancer was awfully tempted to issue a blanket order to ignore the northern border.

“There are strange waves of light all across the sky. Mostly blues, greens, and purples, if that’s of any help. They possess as yet unknown magical properties. One of my bolts went to investigate but halted his approach when he ‘started to feel tingly all over’. The longer description almost sounded like he’d been drugged.”

Now that was strange. It didn’t sound like the kind of magic Twilight would be interested in, and wild magic usually opted for more physical effects. Unless… Moon Dancer’s eyes widened. “Oh! Has the Crystal Empire returned?” That wasn’t supposed to happen for a few years yet, but maybe Twilight had managed to release it early.

The confused look on Spitfire’s face, however, put paid to such thoughts. Really, it wasn’t that surprising. Moon Dancer had barely known the empire had ever existed before sitting in on Princess Celestia and Sunset Shimmer’s argument during movie night. Spitfire had little greater cause to know about it.

“Perhaps not, then,” Moon Dancer concluded. “I’ll investigate, but I don’t think this is something we need to worry about.”





Twilight surveyed the ponies gathered before her at the long vanished gates of the Crystal Empire. This would be their first test. Honesty, Generosity, Loyalty, and Laughter hung about their bearer’s neck. Magic sat atop her own head. Off to the side, Bon Bon, Spike, and Pinkie Pie, the least problematic bearer, watched on while the latter two shared a bag of popcorn.

Five Elements. Without the sixth, this likely wouldn’t work. Celestia and Luna couldn’t do it with all six between the two of them. But one Element, unfortunately, needed to remain in the Everfree for now. Still, it was worth a try. Maybe five Elements amongst five ponies would be enough. If some good came of this, wonderful. If nothing happened, then all it cost them was less than an hour of their time and a bit of annoyance putting up with Trixie’s generally tetchy nature rubbing off on them through Laughter.

“All right,” Twilight began, “is everypony ready?”

“Whenever,” Trixie grumbled.

Flash offered a mock salute and said, “Yes, Ma’am!”

Lyra and Sweetie Belle broke off their Ponyville gossip and both nodded.

Then Trixie asked the obvious question. “How does this work?”

In all honesty, Twilight didn’t have a clue. She withdrew the notes Celestia had given her at the start of all this from her bag of holding. They weren’t that helpful. It was just a bunch of musings on how the Elements felt to use and external circumstances that made things go wrong.

“Ooh, ooh, ooh!” Pinkie Pie cried. “Maybe you have to form up and shout your Element to unleash your attack!”

For once, Trixie was on entirely the same page as Twilight. Or maybe that was just Laughter talking. Either way, Trixie flatly said, “If we do, I’m out.”

“Really?” Lyra asked. Despite the bite Laughter put into the words, her genuine surprise and curiosity remained. “Isn’t that sort of thing right up your alley?”

Trixie clicked her tongue. “Amateurs. The Great and Powerful Trixie has no interest in such foalish displays.”

Before this could spiral out of control in a positive feedback loop, Twilight cut in. “That’s not how they work. The way Celestia writes about them, I think the Elements just respond to what you want them to do. At least if we all want them to do it. Sort of. It’s a little vague. If you don’t direct them properly, I think they just do what they want? I don’t know. Regardless, we don’t have to pose or give a corny speech that we don’t mean.”

Twilight waited a few seconds for everypony to absorb that incredibly unhelpful explanation.

“And on that note,” Twilight then continued, “does anypony have any objections to freeing the Crystal Empire? No? Great. None of you are horrible monsters. Now let’s do this.”

Twilight tuned out the rest of the world and focused on her thoughts of friendship toward the other participating bearers. She had no idea what she was doing, but that seemed like the place to start.

Sweetie Belle. She was everything Twilight could want in the protégé she’d never planned to take. Bright. Attentive. Motivated. Perhaps a little too eager, but that would temper with time. Got along well with Spike. She really had nothing to complain about.

Lyra. Twilight honestly couldn’t imagine undergoing the dramatic lifestyle change Lyra had sacrificed everything for. She’d all but cut herself off from magic. She’d left her home. She’d tossed aside her family, friends, and responsibilities. Twilight still struggled to comprehend the decisions she’d made. It was hard to actively dislike her, though. They’d certainly gotten off on the wrong hoof between the fight and the political nightmare she represented, but she otherwise had fairly easygoing personality.

Trixie. Twilight couldn’t claim she didn’t enjoy hearing about Trixie’s shenanigans after the fact. Getting involved in them wasn’t fun, but she wanted to focus on the positives right now. Indeed, Trixie was easily one of the best performers and storytellers she’d ever met. And considering that her mother and sister-in-law were both successful novelists, she hardly had a small sample size. Even disregarding the changelings, she’d met plenty of actors, entertainers, writers, and more over the years. If Trixie only didn’t have a more explosive bundle of issues than Lyra…

Flash. Twilight resisted the urge to groan or grunt. He wasn’t that bad. When he wasn’t constantly trying to get under her tail, he was a perfectly serviceable background pony she had nothing in common with. Really, Rainbow Dash, despite her jock facade, would have been a much better pick for Loyalty. Then they could have had a team consisting of six sorceresses, assuming one counted Sweetie Belle as a budding one, and–

And Twilight had a feeling she’d gone off on an unflattering tangent.

Right. Positive thoughts. Friendship. Twilight breathed in and out, centering herself. All right. Magic, we bearers may not be the best of friends – we’re trying – but the Crystal Empire has suffered enough already. If you can hear me, please lend me your strength and guidance.

It didn’t come as a terrible surprise when Magic responded. The phantom feeling of a sympathetic caress, for lack of a more meaningful way to describe it, swept through Twilight’s own magic. It was such an alien sensation, simultaneously both unsettling and reassuring. It’d happened before in the Everfree, and now she knew she hadn’t imagined it. Compulsive, powerful, ancient, and self-aware in some fashion? If life stayed true to form, she just knew the Elements would unveil their evil master plan thousands of years in the making someday.

Magic flicked Twilight’s magic with an indignant air. It hadn’t hurt, but she still let out a little noise of protest.

Fine, fine. I’m sorry.

The Element didn’t respond directly, but Twilight did feel it shift slightly. She knew, somehow, that it’d readied itself to act whenever she made the call.

This was such a weird experience. Why had nopony brought up their Elements acting this way? Did they not? Was Magic different? Celestia’s notes had described it as the ‘boss Element’, which implied a certain level of increased capabilities. Or was it just self-reflective? Did it only respond because Twilight talked to it? Was it borrowing her own intelligence? That’d be a lot easier to accomplish than creating a fully functional artificial magical intelligence. Surely whoever originally constructed them–

Twilight got the distinct impression of Magic glaring at her and tapping its nonexistent hoof. Perhaps she could theorize later.

And so Twilight pushed through her own growing artificial impatience – an echo of Trixie’s, she knew – and dredged up the feelings of tentative friendship and unity of purpose she’d lost after growing distracted. When she gave Magic the go ahead, it reached out and joined her to the other bearers. It was, she suspected, a meeting of magics not wholly different from how she thought dreamwalking worked.

Power flowed through those connections, cycling, building, and ultimately exploding into something greater than before. Twilight found herself swept away in the magic, in the heightened awareness of her fellow bearers. She felt the give and take. She basked in the exchange of energy. She reveled in absurd pool of mystical might building between them.

Yet something was wrong. Unstable. Lopsided. Kindness was missing. The pillars she stood upon were brittle and drastically uneven. She felt how easily magic flowed between her and her student and how hard she had to push to maintain that pace elsewhere. Little eddy currents formed to equalize the pressure. Pools of magic filled where it had nowhere else to go. Whatever was about to happen, it wouldn’t be what she’d intended. Not with this malformed mess. She barely had the presence of mind to direct all the energy at her disposal toward the Crystal Empire when she released it.

A riotous rainbow of magical might swept across the space the Crystal Empire’s capital should have occupied. Despite it’s lack of coherency, it smashed into the banishment spell. A ripple of magic spread out for leagues upon leagues as the two energies clashed.

And Twilight knew it was not enough.

Sure enough, when the Elements’ power waned and finally faded into nothing, the empire remained banished. The bearers, as one, collapsed the very moment they had to stand upon their own four hooves again. Twilight, at least, didn’t feel drained or exhausted, but she did feel horribly weak. Playing with that level of power would take some getting used to.

Magic sent Twilight a chagrined apology for its failure, and she tried to offer it an understanding mental smile in return. It’d done what it could, no doubt, but couldn’t make up for her own shortcomings. She closed her eyes, let out a little sigh, and then buried her face in the snow. What had she expected, really?

“Oh wow! That’s amazing!”

It really wasn’t, Pinkie Pie.

But then Sweetie Belle gasped. “It’s beautiful.”

Could it be? Twilight almost dared to hope.

“What is it?” Lyra asked.

Not a crystal empire if you have to ask. Reluctantly, Twilight pushed herself to her hooves and looked around. She didn’t immediately spot anything new or interesting, just snow, snow, and more snow. She turned to the others for some clarification and saw that they were all, to a one, looking up to the sky. Curious, she followed their gazes.

High above, waves of color spread out from a shining, central point in every direction. It was a brilliant display of all shades of green, blue, and purple that extended beyond the horizon. It did possess a certain aesthetic appeal, but that didn’t make its appearance a good thing.

“It’s an aurora,” Twilight said. Sunset had mentioned them once. “They form from solar winds under certain conditions which Equus normally doesn’t satisfy. The Crystal Empire had a powerful artifact that spread energy across its lands and kept the eternal winter at bay. Those energies interacted with the solar winds and produced, well, that.” She gestured toward the aurora above. “I think we released some of that magic. Or poked a hole in the banishment spell? Honestly, I have no idea what either would mean for the empire.” And there was still far more snow everywhere than anypony should ever have to suffer, so it wasn’t doing anything useful.

Pinkie Pie pounced from behind, wrapping an arm around Twilight’s neck. “Aw, it’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

Would that we all could have such unfailing confidence. It was hard to mope or brood with Laughter, ironically, artificially elevating her mood now, but Twilight did appreciate the support regardless. For the moment, at least, she would take the lack of a certain doom Pinkie Sense of some sort as a positive sign.

For a time, the group watched the changing pattern of the aurora in silence. It really did possess an ethereal sort of beauty.

Twilight tore her eyes away from the shimmering spectacle of light above and cleared her throat. “Right. Good work, team. Not quite what we were aiming for, but better than nothing. We all tolerate each other well enough to not have the Elements backfire on us. Success!”

While Trixie outright scoffed, everypony else either laughed or offered up a smile. Spike looked about to say something snarky, but Sweetie Belle nudged him with an elbow before he could and silenced him. Yes, Twilight would count today as a success. A very minor one for sure, but a success nonetheless.

Better yet, she’d learned a bit about how the Elements functioned. If it truly involved a meeting of magics, a partial merging of the more colloquial and fanciful soul, such an intimate manner of power exchange explained why close bonds were a requirement of the process. That level of vulnerability would require a lot of trust to truly embrace, far more than mere dreamwalking. She had no idea why that was necessary, but foal steps. This was, after all, almost an entirely new field of study with almost nothing known. She and Luna were probably the only ponies alive who’d made even the slightest formal study of it at all.

A burst of flame brought a letter from Moon Dancer.

Oh. Right. Probably should have given her a heads up about this.

A moment passed.

And Sunset, too, come to think of it.

At any rate, all Twilight could do now was apologize and explain.





The time had come. It was a bit after midday, the stage was prepared, all of the dignitaries had found their seat, and those members of the public who intended to listen had gathered into a great mass within Canterlot’s central plaza. The only pony absent was the most important one.

“You’re sure she’s coming?” Moon Dancer asked.

Raven Inkwell, Princess Celestia’s seneschal, said, “Yes, she’ll be here any minute now,” for the third time now. This time, however, she added, “Relax. It’s not unusual for these sorts of things to run a few minutes late. Her Highness also possesses something of a flair for the dramatic. It’s also not unheard of for her to keep an eye on things from afar and teleport in only once it’s time for her to speak. Just give the go ahead to start.”

After getting to know Princess Celestia over the past several weeks, that didn’t sound out of character for her. Still, Moon Dancer asked, “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Moon Dancer closed her eyes, breathed, and forced herself to calm down. If Raven Inkwell, with well over a decade of experience, thought starting now was appropriate, then what reason did she have to worry? Everything would work out. If it didn’t, well, this was her first and probably last time organizing this sort of event. What did it really matter?

That line of thought didn’t help that much. Even so, Moon Dancer sent the signal to start to the master of ceremonies.

The first few speakers consisted of various nobles and bureaucrats, often both, who’d managed to snag a short amount of time to address the public at this event. They all had their own agenda to advance, none of which Moon Dancer could possibly care less about right now. Certainly, none of it could be any worse than the usual internal machinations required of a functioning government. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t her business either way.

Then it finally happened with perfect timing. Princess Celestia appeared in a brilliant implosion of sunlight. It was not, as far as Moon Dancer could tell, a teleport nor the result of an illusion. An interesting trick, one no doubt worth asking after, but that would come later.

As impressive as Princess Celestia’s entrance was, however, one couldn’t help but notice the stark absence of a crown upon her head. The presence of her other regalia only made the sight more jarring, and a loud buzz of whispers built up in the audience.

The master of ceremonies, having no need to introduce the nation’s immortal sovereign, said a few brief words and then stepped aside. That left Princess Celestia to take center stage. A smile and the raising of a hoof silenced the crowd.

“Good afternoon, my little ponies.” A little magic carried Princess Celestia’s voice across the entire plaza. “Many of you may be wondering why I came to speak with you today. The rest of you, I daresay, think you know. To address the rumors, yes, Eclipse stole into the castle last week. Yes, she made off with my crown while I was enjoying a night off with my family and friends. And yes, it is a great relief not to have to wear that heavy old relic anymore.”

A wave of respectful laughter rippled across the crowd but soon died out.

“But this is not why I called you here today. In truth, I must confess I am tired.”

Suddenly, Moon Dancer had a very bad feeling about where this was headed.

“I can barely remember the last time I took a long holiday. It has been a pleasure serving this country, but I need to take some time for myself.”

Utter silence met those words, and Moon Dancer had no idea how to react. Did she pull Princess Celestia from the stage and ask her to really think about what she was about to do? Did she just let this go on without interference? What would Twilight do in this situation?

Probably something impertinent but loving.

“Equestria was never meant to be ruled by any single pony. We are a diarchy, not a monarchy, and that is a strain I have keenly felt these past thousand years. In this last decade, Archmage Twilight Sparkle has greatly alleviated my burden. For that, she has my eternal gratitude. Yet the Lunar Throne sits empty.”

Those in the know watched on in surprise or shock. The general audience very clearly looked lost. Despite this, nopony had it in them to whisper over their princess. And now that it’d gotten this far, Moon Dancer couldn’t cut her off early without making everything worse.

“I hope to have that very throne filled upon the start of the new year. With the coming solstice, its rightful occupant will return to these lands.”

Here it comes…

“Ponies of Equestria, I have a sister!”
> Chapter Twenty Five - One Last Hurrah
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

How ironic that this was her first experience with death. Her mentor’s body, damaged far beyond recovery while protecting her from an alchemy lesson gone horribly wrong for seemingly no reason, groaned from where it’d collapsed. It apparently hadn’t gotten the message, however. Rather than fall still forever, it repaired itself almost in an instant. After a few reassuring words, her mentor stepped outside to have a word with the guards posted at the door. They soon hurried off to do whatever it was they’d been ordered to.

It wouldn’t be until much later when she learned this wasn’t normal.





It was technically part of the O&O edition Luna used and made sense, but Twilight didn’t know if she liked the level up system in this campaign. Needing to find somepony to teach her how to be a better cleric felt more like a speed bump than an effective source of immersion. Then again, at higher levels, the process would turn into personal quests. That could be interesting. If well implemented, it could turn into an engaging character arc and possibly even integrate into the main storyline.

But that would keep for another day. For now, Twilight headed for the largest church she could find in town. She should be able to find a higher level cleric there to teach her how to more effectively pray for divine support or something. She wasn’t really sure how divine spells worked here. Theoretically, she derived power from a divine source while Ember, in contrast, used magic in a more conventional sense.

It would be an interesting question to investigate if Luna’s dreamscape could withstand such scrutiny. Twilight knew how she would go about emulating ‘divine favor’ in the waking world, but surely there had to be something more to it here. If so, what constituted divinity? Could she derive power from self-worship?

Actually, speaking of, who or what do I worship?

Twilight had a feeling her cleric training wouldn’t go over very well if she actually asked that question when she had the chance. That would just beg Luna to stealth intervene and mess with her. No, she would have to take this higher than an NPC but not as high as the GM.

Now who can provide me with actual information?

Autumn and Ember were both arcane spellcasters. Seabreeze was a fighter. That left Berry Punch, the ranger, as the most likely to know the details of divine spellcasting. On the other hoof, bards tended to know a lot about whatever world they got dropped into, and Autumn did enjoy the storytelling and roleplaying aspects of the game. Then again, Ember was older than the rest of the party combined. It’d be hard not to absorb lore after decades of exposure to it.

With a thoughtful hum, Twilight decided to just go with her first inclination and sent off a message to Berry Punch. The response came quickly and simply suggested that she ask either Luna or Ember instead as it was ‘a long story’ they told far better. Luna, she could understand. She’d created this world. But Ember? That boded. She wasn’t sure how it boded, not yet, but she knew it boded.

Twilight made it into the city’s central cathedral soon enough after that. Rather than letting her eyes pass over the embellishments, statues, and stained glass as she usually would, this time she paid them special attention.

From what Twilight could gather – Luna clearly hadn’t paid this building any special attention – the local pantheon consisted of four alicorns, some sort of hairless ape, a vampony, and a dragon the size of a mountain. They’d overthrown an older set of gods through force and then cast them off a mountain – she was fairly certain it was a mountain and not the dragon – to an unspecified fate.

Twilight had a sneaking suspicion she knew the dragon in the pantheon.

At any rate, finding an appropriate priest for cleric instruction proved easy enough. A small ‘donation’ to the church paid for the painless ‘lesson’. There was no material to study, no lecture to listen to, no anything of the sort. She didn’t even need to succeed on a skill check to get the whole thing over with. The priest went through a token blessing, probably just to show that something at all had happened, and that was that. Her new level came with a few perks, and once she’d selected them, she left without any further hassle.

Now it was time for a bit of shopping between quests. Twilight had a lot of gold weighing her down, and she’d had her eyes on a few relatively cheap but game breaking magic items.





It happened far less frequently than one might expect. Twilight usually got along just fine without proper magic in this strange O&O world. Right now, however, she wished with all her heart she had her usual abilities available to her.

At the tavern they’d agreed to burn down at midday – the party lacked the self-control necessary for any better outcome – Twilight sat alone at a table waiting for everyone else to join her. In front of her was a perfect cube with six uniquely colored faces. She’d bought it on a whim from a bin of bargain artifacts, unable to identify it, which meant it had to be more valuable than it first appeared. In the waking world, she would just analyze the infernal thing. Here? Here, she had to test it by hoof and guess at its function.

Each face was selectively permeable. She could put anything that would fit into one, including live organic matter, but not herself. When one face was in use, the others refused to accept anything.

When she’d put a copper piece into the red side, it’d made it slightly warm. When she’d put in a slice of bread, it’d come out as toast. When she’d put in toast, it’d returned to her unchanged rather than burnt.

The opposite side had the opposite effect to some extent. It made the coin slightly chilly but hadn’t downgraded her toast to bread. It’d only lowered its temperature to a little below the ambient level. It wouldn’t even freeze water.

The green face proved a greater mystery. It didn’t seem to do anything horribly consistent. It burnt her bread. It magnetized a knife. It spit out her coin no better or worse for wear. A scrap of cloth came out on fire.

The opposing brown face didn’t seem to do anything, or at least not with the test items she had at hoof.

The white end appeared to perform minor repairs. It removed the scratches from her knife, mended a rip in some fabric but refused to do anything with ashes, and the symbols of state printed on her coin stood out more sharply after a trip through the cube. On the other hoof, when she put a half-eaten slice of toast – she wouldn’t ignore such obvious mundane utility – it came out with roughly the same volume but in rectangular form as though she’d only sliced it more thinly, not bitten into it.

The black side, in contrast, seemed to have completely arbitrary effects. Her coin came out as a baby hummingbird. Putting that back in produced a deck of playing cards. She repeated the process over and over without finding even the slightest hint of rhyme or reason to the transformations.

Without warning, Ember cried out, “No! None of that!” She smacked the cube out of Twilight’s hooves onto the floor and followed it up with the most powerful fire evocation she knew. The artifact melted into slag under the assault, and, of course, the tavern caught fire.

Twilight was tempted to pull out her fancy new Decanter of Endless Water but restrained herself. Flooding the tavern would probably wind up with worse results than just letting it burn to the ground. As such, she hightailed it out of there with Ember hot on her hooves. They were, fortunately, near the door, so they made it back out onto the city streets before the background ponies providing ambiance clogged the exit in their panic.

Luna awaited them with what could only be described as a stern pout.

As the city traffic milled about in shock and confusion, desperately trying to put out the growing fire, their little bubble of calm stood by unconcerned. “So,” Twilight began, “want to explain what that was about?”

Rather than answer, Ember turned on Luna. She thrust an arm out, pointed right at Twilight, and roared, “She found a cube! You agreed never again!”

“Hmm?” The look of confusion on Luna’s face melted soon enough. “Oh, I must have forgotten to take them off the artifact list. Some magic shops would have a small chance of stocking them.”

“Explanation, please,” Twilight said. She’d just lost a perfectly infuriating puzzle through no fault of her own and deserved at least some sort of justification.

Ember breathed a puff of angry fire. “It’s a Cube of Slightly Elemental Blessings. End of story. There’s no mystery. It’s not plot relevant. That’s it.”

“But–”

“No.” That firm, resolute voice was in no mood to make the slightest concession. “We once wasted an entire session trying to figure it out. Luna used to run a GMPC trickster god who made junk like that to screw with her players. We killed him. Canonically. I literally ate his heart.”

Twilight’s muzzle scrunched up at the mental image that invoked. Omnivores could be so gross. She turned to Luna for confirmation.

“As amusing as I found it, not one of my better ideas,” Luna admitted.

Right… At any rate, that did all but confirm a theory Twilight had. “So you killed a god?”

Ember barked a laugh. “I killed all the gods and took their place.”

“Ah, good times,” Luna said, chuckling. “I ran a high-powered campaign, and such was the end result. The party became the new pantheon.”

“Sounds fun.”

Ember smirked. “Yeah. Those ponies were great.”

Before Twilight could ponder the significance of the chosen tense too closely, Autumn broke into the conversation. From yet afar, she cried, “Hey, you started the party without me!”

It was more like they’d started and ended it, really, but Twilight opted not to split hairs.

The trio parted to make space in their growing circle for Autumn as she approached. She of course wanted to know what had happened right away.

With a shrug, Twilight said, “I set off Ember’s PTSD.”

Luna laughed with little regard for restraint. It seemed she found a strange sense of pride in her past ‘accomplishment’.

On the other hoof, Ember reacted with literal and metaphorical fire. “What I did was for the good of us all!”

“Ah. Is this one of those ‘it’s the only way to be sure’ situations?”

“No,” Twilight replied.

At the same time, Ember said, “Yes!”

“Then you acted both wisely and precipitously,” Autumn concluded with a nod.

Twilight facehoofed. “I suppose that’s not technically an oxymoron,” she muttered.

Another voice joined the conversation as Seabreeze flew into formation with the group. “Another tavern on fire,” he observed. “Riotous laughter. Luna not trying to kill you.” With a tight expression, he turned to Twilight. “Do I want to know?”

“No,” Twilight and Ember chorused. In this, at least, they were in agreement.

Time passed over the idle swapping of old campaign stories, and soon enough, Berry Punch rejoined the party after her own shopping expedition as well. Now that they were all here, they needed to decide what to do.

“Well, we can’t trawl the local tavern for plot hooks, thanks to someone,” Seabreeze said.

Ember showed no shame and suggested, “Hey, Luna, weren’t you working on a sequel questline to the whole new pantheon thing?”

“Yes,” Luna allowed slowly, suspicion clear in her voice. “I suppose you would want to reprise your old role.”

“A dragon goddess the size of a mountain?” Ember buffed her claws against her scales nonchalantly. “Yeah, I think I could manage that.”

A few moments passed as Luna gave Ember a considering look. “Very well.” Ember’s triumph was interrupted, however, when Luna added, “As an NPC only, of course.”

Ember made a gesture with her claws that Twilight supposed had to be crude in her culture. Nonetheless, when Luna called her aside to impart some necessary quest information for the role, she didn’t object.

Meanwhile, while those two were away, Twilight asked of the remaining group, “So has anypony met anyone from the old gaming group? Besides Ember, obviously.”

“Aye,” Seabreeze said. “If you’ve seen the new gods, the vampony was my gran.”

Well, wasn’t that a surprise. If Luna made friends of families, not just individuals, perhaps it wouldn’t be amiss to take a closer look at the descendants of some of the other ponies she’d associated with. Twilight knew she’d at least kept tabs on the Apple and Pear families. And weren’t the former having some sort of massive family reunion in Ponyville right about now? What an opportunity that presented. Perhaps it was time for her to take her own crack at being in two places at once after watching Sunset pull it off so well.

“Hey, she wasn’t a real vampony, was she?” Autumn asked.

Seabreeze muttered something in his own language, the meaning of which Twilight didn’t need to understand to comprehend. Then to Autumn, he replied, “Why on Equus would you even entertain such daft nonsense?”

Much to Twilight’s surprise, Autumn had an actual answer to that. “Well, Sunny was a human from another dimension.”

A moment passed in silence.

What?

“Okay, I’ll give you that one,” Seabreeze begrudgingly allowed. “But no. As far as I know, vamponies don’t exist.”

“I’ve met a bat pony.” Given how reclusive they tended to be, that should have been surprising and notable, but Berry Punch lived in Ponyville, so it was almost expected.

Autumn correctly stated, “Not even close to the same thing,” but that was entirely too much nonsense burying something far more important.

“Hang on,” Twilight interjected. “What was that about another dimension?” She’d forgive the use of the imprecise colloquialism if she got an answer.

The group turned to look at Twilight, and it was Berry Punch who first realized the obvious. “Oh, you’ve never had the chance to meet her, have you? Well, Luna has this crystal mirror that leads to another world. Sunny stumbled through it decades ago as a foal and got stuck here for years. She went home, but she still comes to visit whenever the portal opens.”

“Huh. Very interesting.”

Twilight felt immensely proud of her acting skills at that moment as she downplayed her response. This was huge. She could barely believe Luna had an operational crystal mirror. Star Swirl wrote that the only one he’d gotten working led to a world where magic barely functioned well enough to support Equestrian life. Moreover, he’d used it as an alternative prison for creatures too powerful to contain conventionally but not worthy of Tartarus or deserving of death.

Okay, new plan B. If the Elements don’t work, I buck Luna through the mirror and send Shining after her to tranquilize her. I’m sure I can jury-rig it open for a few moments, at least, with Star Swirl’s notes at hoof. The theoretical energy requirements are…exorbitant when the universes are out of phase with each other, but I have the resources if Magic isn’t enough. I’ll have to ask Celestia if she knows where it is. If not, maybe I can get someone here to let that information slip in the waking world.

The group carried on in idle chatter about their favorite universe hopper. Twilight kept one ear on the conversation but mostly focused on developing and reworking her plans for the solstice. The last time she’d tried using the Elements had left the bearers utterly spent in the immediate aftermath. Between that and how disinclined Twilight was to trust Celestia with her own wellbeing at the moment, it’d be best to have a capable, trustworthy, and otherwise uninvolved spellcaster at hoof to wield the mirror. That meant Chrysalis, who would likely decline over political considerations, or Sunset.

Yeah, that would work. Why not put Celestia and Sunset in the same room again? What could go wrong?

Luna’s return without Ember made Twilight push her plans to the back of her mind. She’d have to give them some more thought later when she had proper downtime. For now, however, she had a campaign to focus on.

Autumn was the first to ask the obvious question. “Where’s Ember?”

“She’ll rejoin you later,” Luna replied. “Twilight, as the most godly, you should expect a divine revelation soon.”

Ah, well, that’s one way to drag a party into a quest. I’ll have to tell Shining and Spike about this one sometime.

“Until Ember and I are ready, feel free to wander around, not split the party, and entertain yourselves.”





Twilight grunted as she, the safe and tanky healer, was cast finally down. That was it. They were done. They’d never stood a chance. The dragon loomed above them triumphant. Left unchecked, he would ascend to godhood and wage a war against the remaining pantheon which would devastate the world.

Then in their hour of need, when a total party kill had seemed inevitable, the captive, true divine dragon channeled her power through them all despite her enchanted slumber. Fully restored, artificially leveled, and heavily invested in a fair rematch, they leapt to their feet for round two.

Berry Punch kept at mid-range, peppering the dragon with arrows aimed at his weak spots.

Seabreeze swept in close and did his best to harass, distract, and delay.

Ember hurled invocations from the back line for massive damage.

Autumn sang buff spells to strengthen them all, maximizing their damage output and minimizing how many hits they had to tank.

Twilight never had a spare moment to do anything but heal.

They were winning this time without a doubt. But the rapid and sadly temporary growth of their characters showed itself in how haphazardly they fought. They were unused to their new powers and needed time that they didn’t have to familiarize themselves with them. As such, the battle turned from what should have been a curb stomp into a long, brutal slog worthy of bardic poetry.

Then at long last, they smote the dragon’s ruin upon the field of battle. Their quest was at an end. They still needed to actually free the divine dragon, which would take a bit of doing, but that was a mere formality, and the hour drew late. The early risers would soon awaken, so they called it a night there.

Luna, when she joined them, had the suspicious look of a GM who’d only cracked the first few pages of a novel’s worth of notes, but Twilight politely kept that to herself.

It was then once they were all together that Autumn declared the need for a celebration. They needed to commemorate their victory over a major enemy, she claimed. As everyone else agreed, they retired to a tavern to carouse and make merry until they woke.

As was her wont at these sorts of events, Twilight let herself fade into the background and watched the party unfold, speaking only when spoken to. Autumn led not just the group but the background NPCs as well in song with skill befitting a professional prima donna. Some time later, she and Ember got into a drinking contest, which they obviously both lost. Berry Punch drew upon her own skills to mix drinks upon request but spent much of her little remaining time chatting with Seabreeze.

Twilight, in all honesty, had fun. Sometimes she didn’t know what Luna’s problem was. Sure, banishment in and of itself didn’t exactly have much going for it, but it still counted as a thousand-year-long holiday full of games, friends, and whatever else the heart desired. It was hard to see the downside.

In time, the customary way of things played out. Everyone dropped out of the dream one by one until only Twilight and Luna remained. Despite tradition, they opted to stay where they were rather than retreating to the former’s tavern within her own dream. It wasn’t worth the effort.

“Any chance I can get you sober?”

“Psch!” Luna knocked back another drink. “Sobriety is overrated, my friend.”

It really wasn’t, but Twilight let it go. Luna’s words lacked a noticeable slur, and alicorns burnt through poisons quickly anyway. In truth, she’d somehow managed to almost outdrink Ember tonight, which, considering that a dragon’s digestive system could best be described as a volcanic furnace, shouldn’t have been possible. They were in a dream, sure, but that wasn’t the point.

“Have you ever watched the stars?”

Where had that come from? “From time to time,” Twilight nonetheless replied. “My dad is an astronomer. He got me interested when I was young.” She chuckled as she admitted, “Mostly by dangling the equations of motion in front of me. I’d just learned that the stars drift over the ages, you see, and being me…”

Luna snorted in amusement as she rose to her hooves. “I don’t know what I expected.” After downing the last dregs of her drink, she cast the mug aside and conjured a swirling portal beside her. “The stars drift, Twilight, because they are no longer tended to. Let me show you my canvas as it once was.”

Now that was an opportunity Twilight would have to be a fool to refuse. Even so, as she approached the portal, she couldn’t help but tease. “A shortcut, Luna? Didn’t you forever forswear these?”

“Fie on thee!” Luna said and promptly tossed Twilight through the portal like luggage before following after.

On the other end of the portal, Twilight stumbled on her hooves as they landed on soft grass and uneven dirt. She managed to catch herself before falling, fortunately, but realized only moments later that her magic worked properly here. Knowing that three seconds ago would have made her arrival much smoother. Regardless, Luna must have taken them outside of the O&O section of her dreamscape. At a guess, they were probably in an archive of the night sky or something to that effect.

Indeed, a quick look around put them on top of a grassy knoll in the middle of nowhere at night. An endless meadow sprawled out around it in every direction in an endless sea of green with the occasional patch of color that stood out in the moonlight. With no sign of civilization in sight, it was, at least as Luna thought of it, nature entirely undisturbed. What a horrible place. It did, however, come equipped with one advantage: an utter lack of light pollution.

Twilight politely waited for Luna to join her before casting her eyes skyward. In all honesty, it wasn’t that different from the modern night. Stars were very far away and didn’t appear to move much to those standing upon Equus even over centuries.

On the other hoof, smudging an entire painting ruined it utterly. Now the constellations stood in sharp relief against their inky backdrop, forming clear lines and patterns rather than settling into vague squiggles. Some stars shone brighter. Others, dimmer. They played out in a tapestry of still motion and almost looked as though they might come alive at any moment.

“How do you move them?”

Luna stood in perfect silence for a few moments, similarly gazing up at the sky, before opting to press a hoof into Twilight’s side and shove her over to the tune of a harrumph.

Twilight, taken by surprise, emitted a high-pitched cry of distress as she flailed on her two left hooves for an instant before gravity took hold of her. Her magic would have caught her, but Luna made her reflexive spellwork fizzle and die. Instead, she fell onto her side with a heavy grunt. Jerk, she chose not to say aloud. Luna stood over her as she rolled onto her back for a better view and conversation.

“I really don’t know what I was expecting,” Luna said. Her tone came across with exasperation, but the twitching at the corners of her lips betrayed amusement. “Maybe a compliment. An observation. Feigned indifference. An insult to disguise your wonder, perhaps. But no. You’re interested in the mechanics.”

At that, Twilight couldn’t help the little chuckle that escaped her. “Okay, that’s fair,” she magnanimously conceded. As Luna laid down beside her, she said, “It’s very well done. Are the constellations commemorative?”

“They are. It was once the highest honor Equestria could bestow. To immortalize one’s story amongst the stars was to live forever.” After a moment, Luna added, “At least as mortals saw it.”

Twilight could see the appeal of that. When one had no other option but to embrace the inevitability of death, what more could be done? “Sounds comforting.” It was immortality in a sense, she supposed. Every time their story was told, they took on a semblance of life in the minds of those who continued their journey, in the minds of those who pretended to think as they thought and imagined what happened next. “Not much of a substitute, though.”

“Aye, ’tis naught but a cold comfort. Nonetheless, though their bodies have returned to the earth and though their magics have dispersed, their stories remain with me. Some, perhaps, with only me.”

“Then tell me them.” The words escaped Twilight’s lips before she’d given them much thought. She wasn’t sure if she actually cared. History had never much held her interest except where it informed her of magic. If it had, Luna’s existence wouldn’t have caught her so by surprise.

Yet were these ponies not, in some sense, kindred spirits? Twilight might not have anything new to learn from them, but upon reflection, it seemed only proper to honor those who’d come before her and sought a little piece of eternity.

Luna considered the request in quiet contemplation for some time. Neither of them spoke, both merely content to gaze up upon the stars in the night.

Then at last, Luna held a hoof up. She pointed in the general direction of a constellation that was, in the waking world, allegedly supposed to symbolize one of the most fundamental building blocks of unicorn spells. Here in the dream, Twilight could see the resemblance as clear as day.

“Have you ever heard of Magnus the Magus?”

“Magus?” Nopony had used that appellation since before the codification of Old Ponish into a single dialect. “No, I haven’t. I don’t know nearly as much as I should about the Harmonic Era.”

“Understandable. We relied primarily upon oral tradition for centuries. Magnus could be considered the grandfather of modern magic.”

Twilight’s ears perked up. Luna now had her full and undivided attention.

“Spells were jealously guarded during his time, often passed down within families. It wasn’t unusual for magic to be lost when one generation couldn’t pass it on to the next. In this culture, Magnus somehow managed to collect enough spells to notice similarities between them. His work eventually made it to my attention, and I recognized its importance. Hence…” Luna gestured up at the stars with a hoof. “One of my sister’s early students eventually took it further to become the first known unicorn to truly invent a spell since before Discord. No cutie mark magic involved. Unfortunately, credit is rarely assigned to where it’s due.”

While unpleasant, Twilight could understand that. “I don’t think you’d invented citations yet. Had you?”

Luna let out a little snort of laughter. “No, Twilight, believe it or not, but proper academic behavior wasn’t high on our list of priorities back then.”

“Savages, the lot of you.”

Only to prove the point, Luna smacked Twilight with her wing. Such violence!

“The modern story is very different,” Twilight said. She doubted Luna would want to hear it if she didn’t already know it, but it wasn’t exactly some great secret only shared within the cult of astronomy. “Supposedly, Celestia bestowed the knowledge upon Sparkler as a graduation test of sorts. When she succeeded in creating a truly basic, bare bones fire spell, Celestia congratulated her on her achievement and tasked her with continuing her research. As a reward, well…” Twilight gestured at the stars as Luna had.

Luna snorted dismissively. “Yes, truly the story has been boiled down to its essential details.” After simmering for a short while, she suddenly broke the silence. “Hmm? Sparkler? Now that I think of it, any relation?”

“Well…no, not really.” Sparkler was probably on her family tree somewhere, at least if that information had been preserved through the centuries, but Twilight considered it of little importance. That was fifty something generations back. “But for what little it’s worth, I’m the matrilineal descendant of Twilight. Twilight Twinkle, too. Who I think came after your banishment, so you wouldn’t have known her.”

“Wait, but–” Luna curled her neck up to look at Twilight’s face. She narrowed her eyes, saw something, and then collapsed back onto the ground only to facehoof. “She was serious,” she muttered. “You’re an unbroken line of Twilights, aren’t you?”

“For sixty-two generations, if I recall correctly.” She would probably be the last, which Twilight had mixed feelings about, but such was life. “It was the only way I managed to trace my lineage that far back.”

Naturally, Luna then asked, “And if Spike had been female?”

That was a very good question. “I have no idea. Probably? Maybe? It’s not really a fitting dragon name. If Mom said something, I might have listened, but she wasn’t very invested in the whole preteen mother thing and wouldn’t have wanted to encourage it.”

“Can you blame her?”

Twilight heaved a long sigh. “No.” Older now and with years of motherhood under her wing, she far better understood her own mother’s sentiments. At least as far as the age aspect of it went. She’d done just fine as a single parent with a strong support network and that certainly hadn’t changed.

“Anyway, I believe you were telling me about the constellations?”

And so their conversation returned to the stars and the ponies behind them. Luna knew all of the original stories while Twilight knew all of the modern variants that had clearly bled over into legend and myth. It was an interesting exercise to compare and contrast them and then guess at how and why the tales had drifted. Some were obvious. Luna’s absence oft left a hole in need of filling. Others, they could only scratch their heads at. Neither, for instance, had a clue how a simple story about saving a village from an ursa major had turned into an epic quest to save a mare from an unwanted marriage filled with multiple prophecies and patricide.

They stayed this way long into the morning in the waking world as time passed them by in what seemed like moments. This whole having friends thing was much better than Twilight had ever thought it would be. Then again, she hadn’t known Luna even existed, Sunset had always felt off-limits, and Rarity had caught her completely by surprise. Sure, they weren’t the friends she was supposed to be making, but what did it really matter. She liked them all well enough to…

Without warning, a thought struck Twilight, one that needed to be aired. This could be a perfectly innocent moment between friends, of course, but in hindsight, it also felt an awful lot like a date as she understood the term. “You’re not trying to romance me right now, are you? Because I’ve already embarrassed myself as such twice in as many weeks. I don’t need to make it three for three.”

It took Luna a second to process Twilight’s words. Once she had, she broke into uproarious laughter. Soon enough, her legs curled around her barrel as she wheezed and struggled for breath.

Well, ponyfeathers. Three for three, then. I’m on a roll.

“I – you – I have to – have to know,” Luna managed to get out between gasps for air. “Who and how?”

Twilight retorted, “None of your business.”

“Oh, come now, Twilight,” Luna said, now reasonably collected. “We all have embarrassing love stories. When I was in my fifth century, I grew infatuated with a handsome young poet who was known to be of a certain persuasion. I’d never experienced–”

Twilight shot her wing out and pressed her pinions up against the bottom of Luna’s jaw. “I do not need to hear about whatever wacky sexual hijinks you got into.”

When Luna limited her response to a chuckle, Twilight folded her wing back into place tucked against her side. Then to get them as far away from this conversation as they possibly could, she opted to ask about something completely different. “So you have one of Star Swirl’s crystal mirrors? A working one?”

“Hmm? Oh, I have several, actually, although most are broken. I found them all stored together ages ago, but only one ever worked. Star Swirl made them?”

Twilight hummed an affirmative. “We found his research notes on them recently. Sunset and I were so looking forward to a multiverse adventure, but it turns out there are…issues…with making more.”

“Like?”

“Well… How up to date on mathematics are you?”

It came as a bit of a surprise when Luna merely said, “About a decade behind the latest developments.”

Twilight could easily work with that. “All right, so destination coordinates are relative to where you start. That’s all well and good, but almost all numbers are random and thus cannot be generated, so we’re already down from an uncountable number of universes to a mere countable infinity.”

“Uh-huh.” Clearly, Luna didn’t truly appreciate the sheer scope of that limitation.

“Beyond that, the mirrors are constructed via crystal magic. I could emulate it if I knew how, but strangely enough, there aren’t any crystal ponies around.”

Luna waved a dismissive hoof in the air. “They’ll be back soon enough. I heard you tried releasing the empire early, even.”

“Yes, well…” Perhaps it was best to not address that subject in any detail lest Luna get ideas. “Anyway, each universe also has a…well, you can think of it as a wave function of sorts. When they’re out of phase with each other, crossing over has prohibitively expensive energy costs. Some sync up frequently. Some effectively never.”

“More limiting,” Luna allowed, “but surely not insurmountable.”

“Yes, but the worst part is magic is rare in the multiverse.”

Twilight couldn’t say she understood why. She’d expected a certain homogeneity across the multiverse. That was kind of an important assumption of physics, and the lack of it had troubling implications for even their local models of reality. Perhaps it was at least valid for each individual universe? That would be some comfort, at least. But such concerns were for another day.

“Magic doesn’t occur with measure zero, I’m sure,” Twilight continued, “but the vast majority of universes don’t support it at all. Star Swirl wrote that he only found one world that wouldn’t outright kill him to visit, and even there, magic doesn’t work properly.”

“Ah. That would be a problem.”

“Just a little one,” Twilight agreed wryly.

Luna made a contemplative hum.

In response, Twilight asked, “What is it?”

“Nothing, really. I have a friend living on the other side of the mirror.”

“‘Sunny’, right?”

Luna nodded, something Twilight only just caught out of the corner of her eye. “She lived here for several of her foalhood years as a unicorn. Had she stayed, she would have become a sorceress to rival even you.”

Now that was interesting, both for the rarity of such talent and for the fact that Luna had let her go home. And to find it amongst a species with little to no aptitude for spellcasting? Twilight wanted to meet this…Autumn had called her a human, right?

“She’s had a little success using magic at home,” Luna carried on, heedless to Twilight’s thoughts. “Not much, but enough for some minor cantrips. In all honesty, we don’t talk about it much. Her visits are necessarily so short and so infrequent, you see. But perhaps when the mirror next opens, we could all gather round and talk shop.”

Twilight easily agreed to that plan. “Sounds fun,” she said. It’d be interesting to see how magic differed between worlds and to guess at why that was so.

“Ah, but enough of this,” Luna said. “How did you find tonight’s quest? Fun?”

Rather than answer right away, Twilight opted to take a few moments to reflect back upon the night. Between a good dungeon crawl and an epic boss battle, even with a literal deus ex machina at the end to save them, she couldn’t give any lesser review than, “Yeah. A little standard fare, I have to say, but you weren’t really playing to your strengths, so that’s not unexpected.”

“Oh?”

Taking that as a request for elaboration, Twilight flatly replied, “Luna, you ooze drama. A oneshot villain is hardly a proper medium for your theatrics. I’m fully expecting politics, clashing armies, maybe a prophecy or two, and some meddlesome aspirant gods.”

Luna made a show of secretly summoning a notebook and writing something inside it with vigorous strokes of her quill. “I will bear in mind that you took ranks in genre savvy,” she said as she slammed it shut and then banished it.

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Don’t blame me for being well read, O master playwright. When we go back to actually complete our mission, I’ll try to act surprised when something inevitably goes wrong.”

At first, Luna merely harrumphed. A few moments passed, and then she added, “Well, maybe you will be,” in an oddly pensive tone. “You might let it slip your mind between now and then. Who knows when we’ll next play.”

That didn’t sound much like Luna. Twilight arched an eyebrow, though only the stars saw it. “What, are you planning not to sleep or something?” she asked. That was a thing they could both get away with for the most part, but now that she had the ability to be productive while resting, she doubted she’d avoid indulging nearly as much as she used to.

“Not as such,” Luna replied, “but I will have little time for games nonetheless. One of my many responsibilities is…was to shepherd the dreams of my ponies.” A heavy sigh escaped her. “We’ll see soon enough if I’m still needed. Only four days remain.”

Those last four words, though they came as naught but a whisper upon Luna’s breath, were as sobering as any magic.

Four days…

Twilight closed her eyes. She took in a long, steady breath, held it, and let it out just as slowly.

Four days. Four days, and I’m just lying here stargazing with the antagonist of my own story.

They were about to reach the tipping point. This unstable equilibrium they’d found in friendship could not hold. Their lines were drawn. Whatever happened come the solstice, one of them would walk away hurt.

Twilight would miss this dearly.

Four more days. Three last nights.

And so, as she opened her eyes once more, Twilight made a decision.

“Why would you need to watch over Equestria’s dreams? I can’t imagine that scales well.”

For the next three nights, Twilight would continue this charade, this willful disregard of the mutual exclusivity of their desires.

“Hmm? Oh, part of Discord’s legacy included the nightmares, a parasitic species so named for the effect they had upon ponies. They feed off dreams similarly to how changelings feed off love. The lack of a limiting medium such as love often made their feasts deadly.”

Luna no doubt would do the same. That was the whole reason she’d sought out Twilight to begin with.

“Ah, I think I understand how that would work. In vague terms, at least. What happened to them?”

So they would be friends until they could be no longer.

“I was not merciful to those who couldn’t be reasoned with. As a species, I suspect I starved them into extinction.”

After all, what more damage could it do that they hadn’t already set themselves up for?
> Chapter Twenty Six - Through the Looking Glass
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“How did she get her wings?”

“She’s always had them.”

“Oh.” That was rude, wasn’t it? “How did she get her horn, then?”

A chuckle met the question. “She’s always had that, too.”

Her brow furrowed. She knew she was young and relatively uneducated, but that didn’t sound right.





Trixie hummed in thought. As unconventional as the idea sounded, it had potential. “Are you sure Ponyville would like it?” The ponies flowing into town for the festival likely would, but she’d learned a thing or two over her years in the show business. Sometimes her audience’s opinion mattered less than that of whoever filled her coffers. A bad reputation on the job market could come back to bite her hard.

“Psh! Please, nopony would even notice.”

From what Trixie had heard about Ponyville, she suspected that was true. Still, this was Pinkie Pie, and that mare’s reassurances could be dangerously double-edged. On one hoof, she didn’t seem the responsible sort. On the other hoof, however, she could literally see the future. Trixie was still scratching her head on that magical mystery.

“Well,” Trixie began as she came to a decision, “we can try to incorporate it into the act. It shouldn’t take too long to master.” But perhaps she would privately run it by the mayor first.

Ignoring Pinkie Pie’s exuberant little celebration at having her idea accepted, Trixie turned her gaze toward the pony who’d finally gotten out of bed. She pushed aside the sting of jealousy that reared its ugly head at the sight. It was unwanted, outdated, and might not be warranted even if it weren’t. Sure, Luna was probably spending her nights with Twilight Sparkle, but Trixie didn’t know that. Nor did she care, obviously.

Trixie scowled at her own reaction. Ugh, I sounded like… What was the term the locals had used while she’d toured Neighpon? It’d been tsun something, hadn’t it? She shook her head. It wasn’t important.

Meanwhile, Twilight Sparkle made her way directly across the open lab space to Trixie. “Hey, quick question,” she said. “I was going to go about this way differently, but then I realized I was being stupid and ignoring the obvious solution.”

Well, if that was how this conversation was going to start, perhaps Trixie could enjoy it a bit.

“I mean, I have Luna’s own apprentice right here and all,” Twilight Sparkle rambled on. “I thought I’d ask Celestia first, and if that didn’t work, I’d start asking around and sic my intelligence network at the task. What a waste of time that would have been.”

Trixie arched her eyebrows.

Twilight, in turn, made a sheepish attempt at laughter. “Yeah, anyway,” she said when that fell flat on its face. “Do you know where Luna keeps her toys?” Her eyes momentarily flicked down to Niian hanging from Trixie’s neck in its amulet form, a clear admission of the answer she expected.

“That depends on what you’re after,” Trixie answered stonily.

Without missing a beat, Twilight Sparkle said, “The working crystal mirror.”

A moment passed.

“The portal to the human world?”

“Oh. That.” Trixie knew it existed, but her interest began and ended there. Luna’s human friend had always felt like a threat on the rare occasions when they’d met. Not that that mattered anymore. “Why do you want it?” If she recalled correctly, the portal wouldn’t even open for another year or so.

A battered, old journal appeared from Twilight Sparkle’s subspace storage. “Well,” she drawled, “I just so happen to have a copy of Star Swirl’s original research notes on the mirrors. I thought we could force the portal open, go sightseeing, and worse come to worst, drop it on Luna.”

In a blink, Pinkie Pie was at Twilight Sparkle’s side. “Did my ears deceive me, or did I just hear you propose an adventure across time and space?”

“Technically, all adventures are across time and space,” Twilight Sparkle replied, which earned an eye roll from Trixie. “It’d be more accurate to say we’d be universe hopping.”

Pinkie Pie said, “Oh, I am so in!” as she stuck a hoof out between the three of them. Upon receiving an expectant look from her, Twilight Sparkle put her own hoof out as well. They both then turned to stare at Trixie.

Rolling her eyes once more, Trixie said, “Fine. I’ll go dig it out of storage.” She wasn’t participating in any hoof-stack, though.





A dull thud filled the air followed by the rustling of leaves and branches far further off. Apple Bloom swore under her breath. There went her good kicking rock. Now she’d have to find another. Looking around, her eyes fell onto a small log on the path. That would do for the moment, she supposed. She timed her pace just right to align her step with her target and gave it an extra strong kick in case it was stuck in the dirt.

It exploded into fragments of bark and rotten wood.

Frustrated, Apple Bloom wiped the debris from her face and struggled with her mane to get it all out. Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why did Zecora have to live in the Everfree? Why did the forest have to be so…so uncouth! She wasn’t sure what that meant, exactly, but it sounded like something Sweetie Belle would say.

With one last huff, Apple Bloom straightened the bow keeping her mane under control and then set off with a bit of a stomp to her hooves. With the Everfree nipping at her magic, she needed to get moving. She might not make it to Zecora’s little island of safety before suffering some real damage if she didn’t hurry. She already felt sick and sore from being so deep in the forest for so long.

Apple Bloom moved more quickly now, as fast as she could without her magic responding to her call for greater speed. That would just invite the Everfree to make things worse for her faster. But despite that restriction, she soon came upon the familiar ring of bricks placed around Zecora’s home. Crossing over them made her feel a little weird as they always did, but once she made it to the other side, the forest’s wild, chaotic magic backed off and left her alone. As far as she knew, this was the one place in the Everfree not susceptible to its hunger.

Here Zecora made her home inside one of those weird, hollow trees like the Golden Oak Library. They were native to the Everfree, Apple Bloom reckoned. Regardless, she first took a moment to let herself rest from the journey and then walked right up to the front door. She knocked, and Zecora called out for her to enter.

Inside the tree, the great bubbling or simmering cauldron Zecora used to brew major potions was the first thing any visitor noticed. It was more bubbling today than simmering, Apple Bloom noticed. After that, the eye naturally turned to the colorful and mismatched containers spread about the central room upon everything that qualified as a flat surface. Those not containing finished potions instead boasted ingredients gathered from the forest, some of which could be found nowhere else in the world. Zecora, in pursuit of new alchemical knowledge, was perhaps the only person in history to so brave the dangers of the Everfree. Most thought her mad or a monster to live here. Apple Bloom didn’t exactly disagree, but at the same time, she had to admire the dedication.

Speaking of, Zecora stood over her current brew with a thoughtful frown on her face. A huge mess of miscellaneous items and oddly coloured goops surrounded the cauldron. In fact, a faint tendril of sickly green smoke emitted from it, now that Apple Bloom looked a bit closer, which most certainly wasn’t plain old steam. It floated up and crawled along the sloped ceiling until it fled through the ventilation out into the forest. Since Zecora hadn’t donned one of the masks hanging from the walls, it was probably safe to breathe, but all the same, Apple Bloom kept herself at a safe distance as she came closer to observe.

“Young seeker of truth, your arrival comes just in time. I ask of you to prepare an extract of thyme. Do as I say if you wish to stay under this roof, or this potion shall not remain aloof.”

That sounded bad, like Applejack trying to buck the entire orchard herself bad. Apple Bloom hurried off to work in the next room over while Zecora monitored the potion.

Zecora’s full storeroom, not just the common ingredients she kept at hoof in the brewing chamber, overflowed with raw materials and equipment. Apple Bloom grabbed hold of a stool to compensate for her short height and then headed straight for the area containing magical flora. Her eyes scanned the shelves until she found what she was looking for. Climbing atop the stool, she pushed off the wall onto her rear legs. That gave her the reach she needed to shove aside a few jars to grab hold of the magical thyme gathered from the outskirts of the Everfree.

With that, Apple Bloom moved over to her own workstation. She threw a few thyme leaves into a mortar and then ground them into a powder with a pestle. That she tossed into a flask. Into it, she added a solution of water, ethanol, and an unpronounceable alloy that catalyzed the magical extraction process. She didn’t have time to do this right, so she placed the flask over a Bunsen burner and gently shook it while remaining careful not to let it boil prematurely. The heat and motion would speed up the reaction.

A short while later, Apple Bloom attached the flask to a fractionating column. She only needed the magically enriched water now and boiled away the ethanol. Once she had just that, she ran the water through a filter to remove the thyme and the alloy. This final product she then delivered to Zecora, who dumped it all straight into her currently roiling cauldron.

The potion quickly calmed as Zecora mixed it in. It turned from an angry red to a warm pink with a slight green tinge.

“Thank you, Apple Bloom. Without your assistance, there would be only gloom.”

“Aw, ’tweren’t nothing,” Apple Bloom said. She knew Zecora could have managed just fine on her own. “So? Whatcha making?”

Zecora tossed in a bit of crisscross moss and frowned as it turned the potion blue. “An attempt at curing swamp fever, this brew. Now I fear it’s not fit for even stew.”

A ripple of disgust surged through Apple Bloom at that invasive thought, and it made her gag. Potions were downright disgusting to drink, one hundred percent guaranteed. Who would eat it for a meal?

“Now what about you, my little friend?” Zecora asked. “Will your absence from your family not offend?”

“Nah. There’s so many of ‘em at the reunion, they’ll never even notice I’m gone.”

Zecora eyed Apple Bloom skeptically, but she kept her silence and smiled. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be with her family. She did. She loved them. Well, she usually did. Sometimes they could be a bit much, especially the elders. Under any other circumstances, she’d be with them. She just couldn’t deal with how normal and boring it all was right now. Not that they were boring boring, of course, but, well, how would Sweetie Belle put it? It was all…dreadfully mundane. That sounded right.

Apple Bloom bit back a sigh of relief when Zecora let her off without a word more. So with this opportunity, she asked, “Hey, Zecora? What are the great unsolved secrets of alchemy?”

Naturally, Zecora arched her eyebrows. That question had kind of come out of nowhere. Hopefully she wouldn’t pry. Apple Bloom didn’t want to talk about her unfair, stupid, selfish feelings if she could avoid it, but she needed something right now, something big to aim for to make her feel special like her friends. Alchemy didn’t call to her, not the way Scootaloo and especially Sweetie Belle loved their own styles of magic. Maybe it was because she lacked a close connection to the arcane as an earth pony. But she liked it well enough to dig into the subject.

A few moments passed as Zecora regarded Apple Bloom skeptically. At last, however, she replied, “The great mysteries of magic are well documented by many a unicorn. For you, I recommend your dear friend’s books most worn. Yet I warn you now. To solve them, I know not how. Perhaps for these great knots the answer lies in alchemy, but to believe you will untangle them is to turn from reality.”

That wasn’t really what Apple Bloom wanted to hear. She didn’t want to listen to Sweetie Belle go on about magical fields and Star Swirler’s last theorem and whatnot. Maybe she’d not been specific enough or had reached too far and landed in the realm of the truly impossible. “Can I help you with your research, then? I know enough now to be useful, don’t I?”

“Do not feel as though I dissuade, but your help, indeed, has been made.” Zecora gestured to her cauldron of useless goop.

Apple Bloom couldn’t help but stamp her hoof as she said, “That’s not what I meant!”

“Of that, my student, I’m well aware, but you yet have much to learn before you dare. To venture into the unknown is dangerous even for the grown. To complicate matters further yet, without knowledge, only frustration will you beget.”

It wasn’t any different than Apple Bloom had expected to hear, but she still pouted.

“Perhaps our lessons, we should adjust. In you, the forest’s secrets, can I entrust?”

Apple Bloom’s ears perked up. “Of course! I won’t breathe a word of them to anypony, I swear!” It wasn’t quite what she’d asked for, but it was a start.

“Very well, but you must wait, my eager ward.” Zecora glanced at the mess her experiment had caused. “Let us clean. Then you shall have your reward. And though I know it will bring you sorrow, we must wait until the morrow.”

Apple Bloom groaned.





If Twilight hadn’t known who they were already, she could pick out the honors students amongst the Element bearers and their guests now by the groans. Even Trixie, who’d known this was coming, joined in on the response. It was a predictable reaction, really. She herself enjoyed the occasional bit of collaborative research, but that always occurred under very different circumstances than these. If she were on the other side of this conversation, she’d just as happily bemoan the idea.

Sweetie Belle was, of course, the exception. Whether it was the chance to work with Twilight directly on something nontrivial or because of some conditioning arising from her Crusader activities, she wore an eager expression of excitement.

Regardless, as no one could honestly say they didn’t want to explore another universe, Twilight had them all within her grasp. “Okay, look,” she said. “I rightly hate group projects as well, and yeah, I know we might as well be randomly assigned, too, but do you really want to pass this opportunity up? It’s another world! Together, we can force open the portal.”

Trixie pointed out the obvious. “Pretty sure we could each open it faster individually.”

On the other side of the gathered crowd, Lyra conspicuously coughed in agreement. Bon Bon averted her eyes. Even Spike, that traitor, turned aside.

“That’s not the point,” Twilight feebly protested.

No one heard her, however, as Pinkie Pie drowned her out with an animated speech about the spirit of teamwork and adventure. For an extemporaneous delivery full of the mare’s characteristic rambling tangents, it proved remarkably effective at getting everyone on board. Since Twilight had far less to say about the virtues of teamwork, she sat back and let Pinkie Pie do her thing. She really was a treasure once one developed a tolerance. If living in a place as stuffy as Canterlot wouldn’t make her miserable, Twilight would hire her on the spot as a personal assistant. It would make life so much simpler to just hurl her at nonsense Twilight didn’t want to deal with. She probably wouldn’t even mind a literal interpretation of that.

As Pinkie Pie carried on with her good work, Twilight considered for perhaps the dozenth time if she should bring Sunset in for this. She felt like they’d really bonded over it back at Star Swirl’s workshop, both in the research itself and in their shared outrage at discovering how useless it’d turned out. Leaving Sunset out didn’t sit well with her.

Twilight scanned the gathered crowd, came to a conclusion she didn’t like, and grit her teeth.

The bearers needed to spend more time together. There was no getting around that. Their poor performance at the Crystal Empire was proof enough. Two extras was already two too many, but Spike and Bon Bon functioned as effective social lubricant. Sunset, on the other hoof… Well, she was Sunset. Her brand of social manipulation, while unquestionably masterful, probably wouldn’t sit well with the Elements.

With a silent sigh, Twilight pushed the matter from her mind. The Elements’ needs had to overrule her own misgivings, and she knew how that sounded. She had to hurt a budding friendship to min-max her ability to power a friendship laser to protect another friend. She’d have to see what Magic had to say about this sort of dilemma at some point. That was sure to be a conversation, however one-sided, to remember.

At any rate, Twilight would apologize later and offer a guided tour – for all that she’d become an expert on an entire universe over the course of a day or two – in recompense.





“Beware! Take care! This dark forest could spell your doom. Are you prepared to face it, Apple Bloom?”

Apple Bloom offered an earnest salute. “Ready and able!” Zecora’s warnings always came across so overly dramatic, but that didn’t mean they weren’t worth taking seriously. In her saddlebags, she felt the weight of all the little magicless devices she’d prepared for today’s journey just in case. To name but a few, she had smoke bombs, a smelly potion most animals wouldn’t come within a league of, and an electric flashlight that would, owing to its lack of magic, actually work properly inside the Everfree. If she were to go exploring in an evil forest, she wouldn’t be caught unprepared.

So reassured, Zecora led Apple Bloom not out into the trees but, strangely enough, downstairs into her basement. Below ground in the dank, dark gloom, a vast variety of mushrooms grew. Few were fit for raw consumption, and even those that were tasted like dirt. Their magical properties, however, were not in doubt. They would become ingredients in a potion someday.

Apple Bloom had no idea what they were doing down here. Mushrooms, even magical ones, weren’t that interesting. They ate dead stuff, and that was about it. She also knew there wasn’t anything else of particular interest stored here, just the normal stuff ponies put in cellars. When she asked what they were doing, Zecora only smiled back mysteriously at her and instructed her to have patience.

And so it came as a huge surprise when Zecora scraped away a layer of dirt from the ground with a hoof to reveal a hidden trapdoor leading even further down. She slipped a hoof into its ring handle and opened the passage. A crude set of stairs led down into the darkness and vanished from sight. From further within came the sound of snapping wood, a low growl, and the distinctive eerie green glow of a pair of eyes.

“Is that a timberwolf!” Apple Bloom cried, leaping back from the abyss. “Why do you have a timberwolf in your home? How do you have a timberwolf in your home?” They weren’t supposed to be able to exist outside of the Everfree. “Wait…” She turned that thought around. “Is that” – she gestured at the room beyond the trapdoor – “outside of the protections?”

“Only the deepest depths, for those who descend the steps,” Zecora replied casually as though there weren’t a timberwolf in her sub-basement. “Creating the conditions for them to spawn was no mean feat. It took many long years of study for me to complete.” Then, with true indifference, Zecora plucked a lantern from the wall and descended the steps to confront the beast.

With a gulp, Apple Bloom withdrew a blowtorch from her saddlebags and followed after. It wouldn’t do any lasting damage against a magical construct like a timberwolf. They could just replace their burnt wood. But it would hopefully make her not worth bothering with.

Timberwolves ranged in size from no bigger than a foal to hulking monstrosities capable of wrestling hydras. As magical constructs, only dismemberment could slow them down and, even then, not for long. They felt no pain. They knew no fear. They needed no food or water. They were one of the many terrors of the Everfree, lurking in the shadows and hunting in packs for no other reason than because they could.

And this one was firmly locked behind bars. It barely had enough room to move about. That didn’t stop it from being a killing machine the size of her brother, but Apple Bloom relaxed her grip on her blow torch when she saw it was contained.

Meanwhile, Zecora set her lantern down and grabbed a pair of tongs. The timberwolf growled threateningly at her, but it seemed almost resigned when she reached past the bars with her instrument and plucked a twig from the construct. The wood glowed green and fought to return to the larger body, but she held it firm and withdrew the tongs. The wood wiggled in her grip even as she held it between them and offered Apple Bloom a better view.

Once the initial aversion died down and Apple Bloom overcame her long buried instincts to flee from predators, Zecora spoke. “The Everfree is a danger, but only to a stranger. Take half and chew so that it may know you.”

Apple Bloom’s jaw hung open. Surely Zecora couldn’t be serious!

But Zecora just stood there patiently waiting for her pupil to follow instructions.

“You – you want me to eat that?” Apple Bloom had to be sure before she did anything.

And as much as Apple Bloom had hoped against it, Zecora only confirmed what she’d feared with a wry rhyme. “Would you prefer hydra meat? I could find you some to eat.”

A shiver of revulsion shot through Apple Bloom. “No thank you,” she said. At least a timberwolf was made of wood. She could properly digest that even if it tasted like, well, wood. “Why exactly do you want me to do this?” She gathered that this would somehow protect her in some way from the Everfree, but Zecora had been rather lacking in the details.

“So long as its magic lies with you, the forest shall not extract its due. Within the chaos you may walk so long as your magic does not talk.”

“Oh.” That’s…useful, Apple Bloom supposed. But she could see why nopony else had ever discovered this. What had even possessed Zecora to try eating part of a timberwolf in the first place, some strange desire to be a predator rather than prey? “So if I eat this, the forest won’t bother me for a while if I don’t use much magic? How long does it last?”

“The protection will not end soon nor last past the rising of the moon. Beyond that, it’s hard to say. So much changes from day to day.”

Apple Bloom emitted a skeptical, “Right…” but still gathered her resolve to do as instructed. She closed her eyes, pushed the fact that the twig was still moving from her mind, and reminded herself that most potions tasted far worse than a bit of magical wood. She braced herself. She could do this. Leaning forward, her teeth found the twig – it was struggling against her tongue! – and she clamped down hard enough to snap it in half.

Now came the part where she had to chew. The moment Apple Bloom parted her teeth, the wood tried to push its way out past her lips. She didn’t let it escape, but that didn’t stop her from feeling sick as she fought to break it into manageable bites. After a long battle and multiple moments where she almost vomited, the wood finally stopped struggling. She swallowed, gagged, and then hurriedly dug her canteen out of her saddlebags. She desperately needed to wash even the memory of the taste from her mouth, and she could only hope apple juice would do the job.

It didn’t.

Zecora finished crunching her own half of the twig into a pulp, something Apple Bloom could have gone her entire life without witnessing. She swallowed and then asked, “After this ordeal, how is your zeal?” with a distinctly amused air.

“Fine,” Apple Bloom bit out. Celestia, she could still taste the wiggling wood on her tongue, and it wouldn’t go away! So gross! Another shudder of revulsion surged through her, but she didn’t let it get to her. She wouldn’t back down. “Can we get going?” An adventure in the Everfree was just what she needed to distract her and, with any luck, forget this experience.

Unfortunately, Zecora first gathered a few more wood samples from the timberwolf and stuck them in a jar she pulled from a dark shelf below the stairs. She promised that they would only be a precaution in case they stayed out for too long, but who would believe that after what had just happened?

Thankfully, however, Zecora then led them back upstairs with no more unpleasant surprises. After she retrieved her own saddlebags, they securely locked her home. It wouldn’t do to leave it open and unattended. Knowing the Everfree, they’d have an unpleasant surprise with a lot of teeth awaiting their return otherwise.

And then at last the time had come! They left Zecora’s house behind. They were going to head into the Everfree deeper than any earth pony had ever gone before! Apple Bloom paused at the brick boundary of safety surrounding Zecora’s home. This was it, the moment of truth.

Apple Bloom took a step forward.

The forest, for once, didn’t immediately leap to eat away at her magic. She still felt it there, waiting and watching. She could almost feel its confusion, she thought, or maybe she was just imagining things.

Either way, Apple Bloom hurried to catch up to Zecora, who’d waited for her only just up ahead. The zebra sent her a silent look that asked if she wanted to continue.

The answer to that was obvious. Apple Bloom sent a smile back at her, unperturbed, and hurried on deeper into the forest and adventure.





They’d set the crystal mirror up in one of the workshops Twilight had cleaned out before bringing everyone to her no longer secret lab. It stood in the center of the room, a magnificent work of thaumic engineering grown in, for whatever reason, the shape of a horseshoe standing upside down upon a base decorated with more horseshoes. They didn’t seem to have any effect upon the portal’s function, so Star Swirl must have been going through a phase of some sort.

Surrounding the mirror was a horrifying example of what happened when there were too many cooks in the kitchen. They’d bickered and argued over how to force the portal open, and this was the result. The external power device they’d constructed looked like a fungal infestation growing off of a tumor that had overwhelmed some unidentified but most certainly dying animal. It was a tangle of cables and magical fluxes that made her head hurt just to look at. If she didn’t know better, Twilight would have assumed some prehistoric monster had escaped Tartarus and decided her nice, pristine lab would make an excellent place to hibernate.

Worse, at some point, Pinkie Pie had clearly gotten her hooves on the designs, because there were balloons floating from it that, as it happened, were integral to the machine’s function. Twilight didn’t know how that’d happened, how no one had noticed, nor how Pinkie Pie knew how to engineer that sort of nonsense, and she didn’t – well, no, she did want to know, but she worried that the knowledge would somehow drive her insane or melt her mind.

At long last, Trixie, the first to lose the last thread of her patience, threw her hooves up into the air. “Enough! This…thing is absurd! We need to tear it down and start all over.”

Lyra gave the contraption a light kick as if that would magically make it start working. It didn’t, obviously, and then she said, “We should throw it into the abyss to hide our shame.”

“Wouldn’t a volcano work better?” Sweetie Belle suggested. She’d been assigned some basic tasks within the current bounds of her knowledge, and that was enough to have equal culpability.

Off to the side with the odd jobs team, no longer needed, Spike commented, “Wow, who would of thought putting three and a half sorceresses together wouldn’t work.” Twilight wasn’t sure if anypony else doing actual work – sort of – right now heard him, but she would remember that, nor would she forget the hoof bump Flash offered.

“Hey!” Bon Bon said. “Lyra plays nice with others.”

Twilight ignored the lovesick mare’s delusions, for she had a brilliant idea. “Why don’t we put it at ground zero of one of Trixie’s giant explosion spells?”

The team offered up its instant agreement with Trixie enthusiastically calling the Night Guardian Staff into her waiting hoof from its amulet form. Ah, good old team building through shared suffering. She’d just known this would work out in the end if she didn’t try to formally organize everyone. Better yet, their next attempt would turn out better and go faster now that they had the basics worked out. And perhaps best of all, Pinkie Pie returned with fresh snacks for everyone! Twilight snatched a delicious, fresh from the oven blueberry muffin for herself.

It tasted like success.





Nopony had ever questioned that the Everfree was a horrible, evil place, but Apple Bloom had a hard time accepting the brutality so openly on display in front of her. A pack of timberwolves and a flock of cockatrices had collided with each other while the former had been hunting her and Zecora. They crashed into each other in a chaotic melee of pointless death.

The timberwolves surged forth, low to the ground and swift of foot. In turn, the cockatrices grouped up and used their petrifying gaze to defend their flock. The timberwolves, one by one, turned to stone, forever stilled.

But there were too many timberwolves to stem the tide. The craftier ones skulked between the trees to close the distance or found a high vantage point to leap upon their prey. Their sharp, wooden fangs sunk into the vulnerable, feathered necks of the cockatrices just above their tougher, scaled bodies. They whipped their heads from side to side until their victim’s neck snapped or they tore a bloody strip of flesh away.

Apple Bloom nearly vomited at the first spray of blood she saw, but she grew strangely numb to the scene of battle as it progressed. At the height of the chaos, Zecora took the opportunity it presented to slip off and gather as many cockatrice eggs as she could find. They had a use in a number of useful potions.

The massacre didn’t last very long. The timberwolves, far greater in number, won after slaughtering everything that moved and running down anything that dared try to escape. The pack, now counting barely half its original size at most, limped away back into the forest to lick its wounds.

That had to be the worst part. It wasn’t as though Apple Bloom had never seen an animal eating meat. Hay, the Crusaders had once even helped Fluttershy butcher fish to feed to her pets. But these timberwolves, they had no use for flesh or bone. They savored only the kill and the eradication of life.

Why had nopony burned this forest to the ground?

“Apple Bloom–”

The filly in question barely stifled a scream at Zecora’s unannounced return. With how their adventure had gone so far, that would have unquestionably drawn the timberwolves back to continue their hunt. Zecora claimed the pack wouldn’t be able to find them, not while they hid in the branches of the single worst smelling tree Apple Bloom had ever encountered, but life had been particularly fond of giving her lemons lately.

“–you look very green about the gills. Today, I admit, has been filled with many ills.”

That was like saying Applejack had a fondness for apples. Even so, Apple Bloom said, “I’m fine. Honest.”

Zecora didn’t look like she bought that, but it didn’t matter.

“So you’ve shown me a bunch of ruins, a brick road, terrifying star bears I’d hoped never to see again” – Zecora had been somewhat chagrined to learn the local ursae had already introduced themselves to Ponyville while she’d been away – “that weird underground watering hole, and foraging, I guess. What’s next?”

A thoughtful hum escaped Zecora as she stared off to the east. “If your hooves are feeling hale, there is a castle upon which we might prevail. Within its walls, danger lurks. Without? Peace and order works. It’s quite a walk to this mystery, but it’s much a part of pony history. Two royal sisters sat upon their throne. Now but one stands all upon her own.”

Apple Bloom’s eyes widened.

“You know of what I speak? Your story must be unique.”

“Ah, no, um… Not the castle, exactly.” Apple Bloom fidgeted with a twig on her branch as she considered how best to respond. “I’m not supposed to tell anypony. I Pinkie Promised and everything.”

Zecora expectantly arched her eyebrows.

Apple Bloom resolutely stayed silent in turn.

“To protect this information, you show much dedication. Then I will not ask but rather leave you to your mask. But as to the castle, shall we go to the hassle?”

Now that was a much safer question. Apple Bloom nodded, eager. “Of course I wanna see it!” Really, who wouldn’t?

Thus they set off back into the forest.





Enough was entirely enough. Their designs grew more elegant and cohesive with each attempt, she admitted. Despite their differing approaches to magic – and her relative inexperience – they were managing to iteratively iron them out. Slowly. But this would not do. She would take a page from Apple Bloom’s book and force all of these lone wolfs to work together properly.

Sweetie Belle left the group behind and swept up the plans for their makeshift artifact. All they were trying to do was provide power to the crystal mirror and forcibly open the portal. Granted, interfacing with an entirely self-contained artifact was an inherently difficult problem, let alone meshing modern magic with ancient magic, and they were playing with a level of power that could kill them all if they became careless, but this was fundamentally a solved problem. They were more or less just building a really big magical battery. She could take apart a few of her childhood toys and have a bunch of those.

So how would Apple Bloom deal with this? She was always good with project management when the Crusaders needed to build something. She’d probably have them divide the work up into bite-sized tasks wherever she could so that they didn’t step on each other’s hooves. That even fit nicely with some of the things Archmage Twilight had hinted at about spell construction in passing, although that was a complex topic she’d not even scratched the surface of. Maybe it would be easier to think of it like individual movements in a song? Did that function as a proper analogue? If so, where, then, did it sound most natural to divide this great work?

Well, we need the actual giant battery. Then we need a safe way to contain and transfer all the magic we’ll use while it’s in use. After that, we need the device that interfaces with the portal. Lastly, we need the control system, although that’s basically just an on-off switch with a few bells and whistles. All of it needs to flow into the next segment so we can work individually. And then there’s general construction work. A thought occurred, one that would have been a tragedy to overlook. Oh, and baking, of course. Pinkie Pie made the best snacks.

Sweetie Belle whistled shrilly. That successfully got everyone’s attention even if more than a few sent her an annoyed look in return. Honestly, though, if they thought it hurt their ears, they should try wearing Generosity and see how their brain felt after the echo died down.

Regardless, Sweetie Belle made her pitch. “Okay, um…” That was actually a lot of eyes staring straight at her, most of whom were far older and wiser. She cleared her throat. She would do this. “Well, you three” – she pointed at the fully grown trio of sorceresses in the room – “aren’t very good at working with each other.”

Archmage Twilight mentally conceded the point after a strange pause, Trixie rolled her eyes, and Lyra opened her mouth to protest before glaring down at Honesty around her neck.

“And that’s okay,” Sweetie Belle continued. “When the Cutie Mark Crusaders work on a project, we split the work into smaller tasks and bring everything together at the end. So which of you three is most used to high-power spellcasting?”

Even if it was somewhat begrudgingly on Trixie’s part, she and Lyra turned to look at Archmage Twilight. Considering the spectacle she’d put on during her duel with Trixie, no one could reasonably argue otherwise.

As such, Sweetie Belle said, “Then you design the safety critical parts for containing and transporting the magic the artifact will use. You’ll have to mark up how you’ll handle input and output and let us know so we can match it.”

With no objections, or at least continuing on before anyone could raise one, Sweetie Belle turned to her remaining sorceresses. “Which one of you wants to build the fiddly bit that connects to the portal?”

“I’ll do it,” Trixie said. Turning to Lyra, she added, “I can have Niian error check and optimize my work as I go.”

Lyra accepted this and said, “Guess I’m building the actual battery, then?”

“Yeah.” Sweetie Belle glanced down at the blueprints for their latest attempt at building this device. “I think I can make the control system on my own.” That left four others unassigned, however. She turned to them. “Pinkie Pie, you’re on baking duty. Keep us fed and hydrated.”

The mare in question saluted and said, “Aye, aye, Captain.”

Somewhat random, but Sweetie Belle wasn’t going to argue with cooperation. To the last three, she said, “We’re going to need a framework to contain everything. We’re building a rigid artifact, remember, so everything needs to be fixed in place relative to its other parts. Once we have the individual components designed, you can get started on that.”

And like that, Sweetie Belle had made herself the project manager.





The remarkably not crumbling arch bridge, Zecora promised, marked the beginning of the end of their trek through the Everfree. They’d stuck to the old road cutting through the trees for the greater part and made good time. It was a relatively easy journey without worry, but Apple Bloom had to admit she felt slightly winded for it. Zecora looked worse off; zebras weren’t built as durably as earth ponies. Her step was no slower despite that, however.

Then at last the moment came. They summited the last hill before their destination, and Apple Bloom made a silent gasp at the sight.

The castle was beautiful. Despite the neglect it’d suffered, it stood as a sight to behold. The care and craftsmareship that had gone into the architecture could be referred to as nothing less than a work of art. The columns, the arches, the great dome at its center! Even at this distance, she could even see bas-reliefs preserved in the stone. And all of it stood without magic! For a palace over a thousand years old, this was a historical treasure. Maybe if Sweetie Belle asked very nicely, the Crusaders might get permission from on high to explore it without triggering whatever defenses Zecora had mentioned awaiting them inside.

It would be a fitting last crusade.

“That’s strange,” Zecora mumbled, drawing Apple Bloom out of her minor funk. “There’s been much change.”

Apple Bloom took in the castle in its whole once more before asking, “How so?”

“Before it had seen much care. Now, it’s in dire need of repair.”

That felt like an over-exaggeration. Sure, some of the structure looked a little, well, crumbly, but it was a ruin. Most of it had withstood the test of time. And in a place like the Everfree Forest, that counted for a lot! “It should still be safe to rest here, though, right? We just have to stay outside, don’t we?”

After a few moments in which Zecora’s brow furrowed in thought, she said, “If we dare, we must take care. To meet our end here would be tragic, if the danger within is no longer magic.”

So they needed to watch out for giant monsters that could smash through wards designed to kill intruders. Apple Bloom could manage that. There weren’t any in sight right now, so whatever had caused the new damage had either moved on or settled down to rest. Then so long as they didn’t set off any explosions, they should be fine.

“Let’s go!” Apple Bloom cried, cantering ahead. “There’s no time like the present.” It was getting late, too. They wouldn’t be able to stay long even without dawdling on the boundary.

As she neared what once had been the main gate, Apple Bloom felt the shift the moment it happened. The Everfree’s vicious magic, even as confused about her as it currently was, fell away entirely. This was more than just a safe zone, more than a ring of protective bricks scavenged from the forest. Whatever the cause, this place felt pure. Orderly. Harmonious. In fact, it felt somewhat familiar, but Apple Bloom couldn’t recall why.

Zecora left the jar of timberwolf cuttings at the boundary. Apple Bloom had a bad feeling she was about to reveal that they’d need a second serving to get back home. And she did. Fantastic.

Still, it would be worth it. Even if they couldn’t go inside, there were plenty of empty windows, open gates, and gaps in the brickwork to peer in at the interior. The main entrance alone was worth the journey. An avenue of stairs led to other parts of the castle until it came to a grand staircase at the far end. The walls alone were works of art that probably depicted significant events of the distant past, and once upon a time, there must have been a well tended garden here.

Above it all hung two moth-worn tapestries side by side. The right one bore the image of the sun with Princess Celestia below. On the left, somepony had stitched the stars and moon above a dark blue alicorn that could only be Princess Luna.

“Sweetie Belle was right.” The words escaped Apple Bloom on a whisper of a breath. She hadn’t doubted, but this was proof.

Then all at once there came a flash of light. Apple Bloom squeezed her eyes shut, blinded, and hurried to hide behind the outer wall. She held her breath, not daring to make a sound. Beside her, she felt Zecora react similarly. Maybe this had been a mistake.

“I regret to inform you that the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters is not currently accepting guests or offering tours,” a melodic voice called out. Neither threat nor anger found a home there, but a certain firmness of fact underlaid it. “I will, however, escort you out of the Everfree should you wish it.”

Well, that’s…surprisingly fair. And since whoever this was could talk, surely they could be reasoned with, unlike one of the Everfree monsters. Apple Bloom dared peek around the corner of the wall and silently gasped at who she saw. Princess Celestia! In hindsight, that shouldn’t have been a surprise. She and Zecora were trespassing on royal property, after all, weren’t they?

The princess’s eyes zeroed in on Apple Bloom the moment she stuck her head out. There was no going back or pretending they weren’t here now. With no other option, she summoned up her courage and stepped out into the open. If the princess was surprised to find a filly, let alone an earth pony, so deep in the forest, she didn’t show it.

Apple Bloom slipped into an awkward bow, not really sure what she was supposed to do. “Your Highness,” she said half in greeting and half in supplication. It sounded about as nervous as she felt. “I – well, I’m Apple Bloom. I’m sorry for trespassing. I promise I won’t do it again, honest. I, uh…” What more could she say? Actually, one thing did come to mind. “Princess Flurry Heart and Spike can vouch for me.” As her potions mentor came up behind her, she added, “And Zecora.” That last part was a bit of a stretch, but surely vouching was transitive.

“Apple Bloom?” Princess Celestia said with the oddest note of recognition in her tone. “Are you Sweetie Belle’s friend?”

“I… Yes?” Since when did Sweetie Belle know Princess Celestia of all ponies! That was huge news! Did she send some letters to Spike without telling–

No, of course she had. It’d been weeks since they’d last met, and Sweetie Belle wouldn’t drop her new pen pals just because she was off on a secret mission without the other Crusaders hanging around. Who knew what adventures she’d gone on since she’d left.

Without the other Crusaders.

Princess Celestia hummed in interest as she approached. “Well, despite the strange circumstances, I have looked forward to meeting you. Sweetie Belle told me a bit about you, and Twilight has mentioned you as well.”

“Twilight?” Apple Bloom echoed dumbly. It couldn’t be. “Archmage Twilight Sparkle?” More importantly, she asked, “Not Index?”

A sheepish expression passed over Princess Celestia’s face. “Ah, we appear to have a breakdown in communication. Index Code is a false identity Twilight and I use on occasion.”

“What? But – but that means…” The enormity of the revelation hit like a train. “Sweetie Belle is studying under the archmage?” And she didn’t tell anypony? No, that didn’t sound right, not considering what she had revealed, and yet it stung all the same to find out this way.

Princess Celestia smiled and turned her attention to the other person present. “And you are…Zecora, was it?”

“I am, Your Highness. Please forgive my shyness.”

“Ah,” the princess said in understanding. “An alchemist? The Everfree, whatever its other faults, certainly would make for a novel source of ingredients.” After Zecora agreed with the sentiment, she asked, “Are you here to stay or just visiting the country?”

“I left my home many years ago. Here, I’ve let my roots grow.”

“Always a pleasure to hear. Welcome to Equestria,” Princess Celestia said. “But perhaps we should relocate to somewhere more comfortable. You could both tell me what brings you here over evening tea?”

Apple Bloom didn’t really like tea, but she wasn’t going to turn down the chance to talk with the princess nor the opportunity to not get in trouble for barging into the old royal palace.





Lyra looked on with pride at the external power source the team had created together, never mind that this was their fourth attempt. The other versions were mere prototypes and nothing more no matter what Honesty had to say about that. This version, this final product, stood as a more sensible design. They’d banished the complex innards of their prior attempts to neatly packed, modular containers surrounding the crystal mirror in a semicircle.

In all honesty, any of the Crusaders would have been the last ponies Lyra would have picked to lead a project like this, but Sweetie Belle had really pulled through. Who would have guessed? Then again, they did tend to be less of a walking disaster when they weren’t all together.

At any rate, everything was set to go. They performed the initial tests without the mirror. Now they only needed to conduct their final experiment.

“This is so exciting!” Lyra said as she danced impatiently on her hooves. “I’ve never made an artifact before. If I did, I always thought it’d be for, well, killing stuff.”

Bon Bon wrapped an arm around Lyra’s shoulders and pulled her in close for an affectionate nuzzle. “You know, I wouldn’t mind a few new toys.”

“Um…” Unsure of how to take that request, Lyra asked, “Toys or…toys?”

Bon Bon, of course, craned her neck to nip at Lyra’s ear. She whispered a husky, “Why not both?”

“Eh-hem.” From the front of the crowd, an oddly assertive Sweetie Belle glared the couple down from half their height. “If we’re done with the foreplay…”

Blood rushed to Lyra’s face. She nodded and sidestepped to put the tiniest bit of distance between herself and her marefriend, just enough to be able to force a piece of paper between them.

“Then we can begin.” Sweetie Belle picked up a short report from the table beside her. She glanced through it and then turned her attention to Trixie. “If I understand your math, we can only hold the mirror’s portal open for about a minute before we need to recharge the battery, right?”

“Yeah. Even for the Great and Powerful Trixie, that piece of junk is a huge power sink.”

Lyra certainly agreed with that. She’d been involved in a lot of cooperative spellcasting in her past to produce enormous magical effects to kill giant monsters, but nothing had ever demanded magic in the sheer quantity punching a hole through realities required. It didn’t help that this universe and their destination were nearly maximally out of sync with each other right now.

Really, though, Lyra wondered why Twilight had so much solidified magic lying around. What did she use it all for?

“That’s fine,” Sweetie Belle said. “We only need it open long enough to get through it. Which I have a note here about, actually. We need to send a clock through first to check for…time dilation?” She glanced up from the text to Twilight with a questioning look.

The mare in question offered a simple explanation. “Since the physics of each universe isn’t identical to our own, we need to check if time flows in the human world at the same rate it does here. Unless, Trixie, you can offer some insight?”

Trixie shrugged and said, “No idea. I’ve only met one human years ago, and we never spoke much. You’re lucky enough that I even knew what this mirror was.”

“Can we just start?” Lyra asked, her voice on the verge of a whine. She really wanted to see this new world and witness the fruits of her labor.

With no further objections or points of order to raise, Sweetie Belle gave them the go ahead to conduct the final experiment. Twilight unearthed a pair of durable clocks from one of her lab benches. After synchronizing them, she kept one and tossed the other, a string literally attached, to Sweetie Belle to hurl through the portal if all went well.

The group counted down from ten. When they hit zero, Sweetie Belle flicked the switch to turn their device on. It hummed ominously in protest under the magical load placed upon it, but it remained stalwart in its duty. Power collected at the focus until a massive wave of magical flux burst forth, steady and continuous. Although the mirror showed no visible change, Lyra’s horn missed neither the rapid rate it consumed power nor the warping of space upon its surface.

They’d really done it, hadn’t they?

A glowing green blur whizzed toward the portal. A second later, Lyra realized Sweetie Belle had just flung the experimental clock through. After a short wait, she pulled it back and powered down the portal. When they compared one clock against the other, they found them still, if not perfectly in sync, then close enough as to make no matter.

“Well then,” Twilight said. “I do believe we can go ahead. But” – she exchanged looks with Lyra and Trixie – “one of us needs to stay behind.”

Not catching the hint, Flash volunteered. “I can do it.”

“I’d much rather it be somepony who can fix the portal if need be,” Twilight said, much to Lyra and Trixie’s agreement.

Flash, however, responded, “If that happens, I can just pop off to Canterlot and call upon your regent, can’t I?”

“I…suppose so,” Twilight allowed.

When Twilight looked Lyra’s way, she shrugged. It was fine by her so long as somepony was around to pull them out. She didn’t want to be stuck in another universe.

“Whatever,” Trixie said, which counted as consent.

And so they were decided. Twilight offered Flash a quick, “Thank you,” and then said, “Give us an hour to explore before you open the portal again.” To the rest of the group, she asked, “So who wants to go first?”

Lyra raised her hoof and hopped forward on her remaining three. Her last adventure with Bon Bon down into the bowels of the Canterhorn, however hesitant she’d been initially, had turned into a real thrill. This part two could only be better!

But when Lyra stepped forward, Twilight piped up with unwelcome news. “Leave Honesty behind. I don’t want to take any chances with the Elements. I’ve emptied my bag of holding as well.”

That, any reasonable pony had to admit, made sense. “I… Okay.” Lyra reached for Honesty’s clasp with her magic. “But–”

“Yeah, I see where this is going,” Twilight muttered. “Let me lend you all a hoof.”

And just like that, Twilight called Magic to her. Using it, she summoned Honesty, Generosity, and Kindness and sent them away to some dark shadowy corner of the abyss. It all happened so fast. None of them had time to react before the shock and sense of loss set in. Despite her best efforts, Lyra couldn’t even summon Honesty back to her.

“Hey, I do this all day every day,” Twilight said, entirely unsympathetic. “Without Trixie’s crutch, I might add.”

Trixie harrumphed but didn’t deny it.

“Just get going,” Twilight continued. “A universe away, the call probably won’t be able to reach you. At least not when the portal is off.”

That sounded just plausible enough to believe in and hope for. Lyra worked up the strength to push down the sense of longing and emptiness Honesty’s absence had left in her. She turned the portal on and rushed through it without pause to examine how it felt.

On the other side, Lyra immediately toppled over onto her barrel. For some reason, that hurt. In fact, she had a hard time making sense of most of the signals her body was sending her. Everything felt off and foreign up to and including the positioning of her limbs, and for somepony who’d had to adjust to having four instead of two, she felt that said a lot. It didn’t help that wherever she’d ended up was pitch black as well.

Pinkie followed Lyra through the portal moments later. She avoided falling on top of Lyra, thankfully, and an array of lights above flicked on with her arrival.

“Ooh, automatic lighting. Fancy.”

While Pinkie immediately set to exploring, Lyra did her best to roll out of the way of the next arrivals. Pinkie Pie was Pinkie Pie, but she couldn’t count on anypony else adjusting so quickly.

As more of the group came through, Lyra took in their changes. The mirror, for whatever reason, had turned them all into bipeds that sort of looked like hairless monkeys, except for the luxurious manes sprouting from their scalps matching their natural colors. Their skin, too, bore the tone of their coats. That didn’t seem natural, but it did all mesh with the description of humans Twilight and Trixie had offered them. She thought it best not to wonder how they’d each also picked up a set of color-coordinated clothing along the way.

But speaking of Twilight, she came through the portal – apparently an unassuming slab of stone mounted against a wall in this universe – second to last and managed to keep her balance. With only a minor stumble, she safely remained upright on two legs. For some reason, however, when Spike followed in her wake, he turned into a dog. The clock he’d been carrying clattered onto the tile floor now that he didn’t have hands. Judging by his grumbling, though, he could still talk.

And then the freak out started. Twilight let out a wail of loss and horror as she rushed back toward the portal, but it was too late. Flash had already shut it behind them.

Neither seeing nor feeling any particular cause for alarm, Lyra ignored whatever drama was playing out there for now and explored her new body. She wiggled her not claws and found them at least as dexterous as Spike’s normally were even if she’d clearly need to practice with them. She didn’t have a tail – disconcerting – nor a horn – troubling – and she couldn’t feel her magic – that’s probably what has Twilight in such a state – yet she felt oddly pleased with the changes for some reason she couldn’t pin down. She poked at the strange lumps on her chest, which yielded under pressure. A look under her shirt and the weird article of clothing beneath that made her realize that they were a pair of oversized teats.

What a strange species.

At any rate, Lyra managed to get up onto her feet with some assistance from her arms. She propped herself up on a nearby table until she gained a semblance of balance and then looked around.

They were in a lab, clearly, with only one door out and no windows. Lyra glanced at a chalkboard and, to her great surprise, recognized both the scribbled language as Modern Ponish and some of the mathematics as magical equations. Even the bookshelves had untranslated tomes she recognized. Had somepony crossed over from Equestria to live in this universe?

Meanwhile, Bon Bon teetered her way over to Lyra with the help of a lab stool as a third leg. “How are you…” She vigorously waved a hand up and down at Lyra.

“Eh, I’ve had no legs and four legs,” Lyra replied in a hushed voice. “Two isn’t that hard to figure out.”

A strangely enticing look emerged on Bon Bon’s new face, and Lyra just had to kiss it even though she suspected it’d not been intentional. Biological wiring was weird like that. And with as weak of a connection as this body had with her magic, it probably had extra weight in her decision making processes here. As an extra experiment, she determined that the act felt just as pleasurable on this side of the mirror.

“Okay, that was weird,” Bon Bon said when they broke apart. “This isn’t going to become some weird fetish for you, is it?”

Lyra had to think about that. Now that Bon Bon knew about her past and the full scope of her magical talent, such things were no longer off limits. A smirk pulled at her lips. Just as she was about to answer, however, Trixie interrupted their moment.

“Hey, I know whose lab this is.” Trixie held up a photo for everyone to see. It depicted two humans holding an award between them. One had amber skin with graying yellow and red hair. The other made Lyra look between her and Twilight. As humans, those two could pass for identical twins.

Pinkie said what they were all thinking first. She let out a long, “Oooooh.” She then added, “This is a parallel universe.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Twilight protested weakly. She’d curled up into a ball atop a chair with her legs tucked tightly between her arms, but it seemed she’d not lost her capacity for reason. “The odds of that happening by chance are effectively zero. Moreover, our universes have bumped into each other multiple times. There’s no good reason for another me to exist.”

“That doesn’t change the facts,” Spike said with excitement. “Unless there’s time travel involved! In Power Ponies, this sort of thing happened multiple times. It turns out that–”

Trixie cut Spike off. “Not the time.” She pointed at the other human in the picture. “This is Luna’s friend, Sunny. And now that I’ve met our version, I recognize her for who she really is. Don’t break anything if you don’t want her to break your legs.”

After a few moments, Twilight let out a gasp of surprise. Then she chuckled, albeit somewhat weakly in her current state. “Oh, Trixie, don’t be silly. Sunset isn’t so uncouth as to break legs. She’d find a much more effective way to hurt you for far longer.”

Yeah, because that’s so much better. Not that Lyra knew who this Sunset pony was, of course. She’d have to remember to ask later once they’d gone back through the portal.

Lyra then realized something. “Hey, so this is human Twilight’s lab? Who wants to bet we can’t get out on our own without explosives or mining equipment?”

There were no takers.

Pinkie tried the door and found it locked with no obvious way to open it, not even a keyhole.

Twilight herself muttered, “Ponyfeathers.”

So they were stuck in this room until Flash opened the portal for them to get back or somepony came in and let them out.

Fantastic.

Next time they’d have to come during regular business hours. Whenever those were here.

Sweetie Belle, who’d been exploring the lab on her own, saved the day. “I found a few decks of cards.”





Apple Bloom stole a glance at ‘Sun Wisp’ escorting her home after evening tea in Canterlot with Zecora. If she didn’t know better, the disguise would have fooled her. Archmage Twilight’s certainly had, and Princess Celestia’s was no less real. To all senses, she appeared as no more than an ordinary unicorn mare with a bronze coat and a mane and tail the color of yellowed wheat with all the curiosity of a tourist.

“Ponyville is bursting at the seams,” Princess Celestia idly observed.

It was true. Between the Summer Sun Celebration coming in a mere two days now and the ongoing Apple family reunion, the number of ponies residing in town had more than tripled over the past few weeks. A few might decide to stay if they found a business opportunity, but most were mere faces Apple Bloom would see once or twice in her life and then never again after the solstice.

Case in point, a stallion new to town traveling opposite them down the road took an interest in the princess. Resisting the urge to not scream what a horrible mistake he might be about to make took all of Apple Bloom’s strength. And then when Princess Celestia followed her charge’s gaze, clearly wondering what had her tied in knots, she sent him back an innocent smile. But that only lasted until they passed one another. Once he was behind them, she, Princess Celestia, put a little sway into her rear and ever so slightly raised her tail.

From the dull thud, the crash, and the sound of falling produce, Apple Bloom didn’t need to look back to know the stallion hadn’t kept his eyes to himself. Served him right.

“Oh my, this is fun.” A bit of a giggle found its way into Princess Celestia’s voice, and Apple Bloom honestly had no idea how to process that nor what had just happened. “It’s been too long since I truly got out of the castle.”

Apple Bloom made a few feeble attempts at speech, but she had nothing.

Once the giddy energy finally left the princess, she settled down enough to say, “Now that we have some privacy, relatively speaking, I meant to ask why alchemy? What drew your interest? Between your background and the tales I’ve heard, I would not have guessed it.”

“Aw, well…” That sort of question had a long answer, and surely the princess didn’t want to hear about a random little filly’s problems when she had so much larger ones to wrestle with. “It’s interesting.”

“Oh, certainly. My area of expertise lies in unicorn magic, but I do try to keep up with the field. Twilight, of course, has made a study of it as well. How long have you been practicing?”

“A few years,” Apple Bloom replied. That was when she’d started taking it seriously, at least, instead of just dabbling.

Princess Celestia hummed in delight. “I do wish our educational department would make basic potions a core subject. Or the more practical brews, at least. Unfortunately, we have a lack of experienced alchemists willing to teach. Zecora is very generous to volunteer her time for your lessons.”

“Uh, yeah. I reckon she is.” Apple Boom had never really thought about it that much before. She did do a lot of learning on the job, though, so to speak. “Sweetie Belle was so jealous when I told her Zecora agreed to teach me.”

This time Princess Celestia hummed her understanding. “And your other friend, Scootaloo–”

Apple Bloom nodded when the princess looked her way for confirmation.

“–she had Rainbow Dash to teach her magic, no?”

“Yeah, she–” It hit Apple Bloom only now, years later, that Sweetie Belle had ended up as the only one studying magic on her own when it’d kind of been her thing to begin with. And she’d never said anything. Really, what would there have been to say? That she was jealous? Upset? Angry? It wasn’t like her to unload on others like that.

Great, now I feel even more like an ass for kicking around Ponyville and bellyaching to myself.

Princess Celestia must have known what was on her mind, but the princess had no words of comfort nor condemnation. No, instead she steered the conversation into equally dangerous waters. “Forgive an old mare for the repetition, but could I ask again why you decided to take up alchemy?”

“I…” Finding herself suddenly without words but with a dry mouth, Apple Bloom tried to wet it and then swallowed. She dared glance up at the princess only to find a knowing look there with a sympathetic, understanding smile. There’d be no judging from her, but Apple Bloom still quickly looked away. “Scootaloo was learning how to fly without wings, and Rainbow Dash taught her all sorts of amazing things. Then Sweetie Belle got into magic, and she could do things with a flick of her horn that would take me forever to accomplish. I – I wanted to be special too. But, ya know, earth pony. Then I met Zecora, and I saw my chance, and alchemy really is interesting. I swear!”

They walked in silence for a few moments before Princess Celestia asked, “How long have the Cutie Mark Crusaders been crusading?”

What? Apple Bloom blinked in place, not prepared for that question, and then trotted to catch up. “Um… A little over five years now.” That sounded right. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Oh, I just want to fully understand the situation. My student’s student thinks the world of you and Scootaloo, after all.” The Princess’s tone then turned slightly teasing. “Twilight herself has offered mixed reviews. She admires the brilliance but worries about the chaos that follows in your wake.”

“That’s–” That was totally their fault. Apple Bloom couldn’t deny it. “We have to get our cutie marks,” she weakly protested.

Now more solemn, Princess Celestia said, “You three are quite old to not have them. Twilight has her own theories on why that is. I agree with her. To an extent. She has a blind spot when it comes to certain matters.”

When Index – when Archmage Twilight had brought the subject up, Apple Bloom had pressed for answers. Now? Right now she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear more as she shrunk in on herself. If this was all tied together, all coming to one central point, it couldn’t be anything good.

“But Apple Bloom,” Princess Celestia began in all seriousness. The filly in question noticed the princess looking down at her from the corner of her eye. When she summoned up her courage and turned to gaze back, she nearly stumbled in her step under the weight of those eyes. The next words were cutting. “Do you truly care so long as you remain together?”

Apple Bloom shook and fought as hard as she could against any more visible reaction.

It was true. It hurt because it was true. It was truer than she’d ever dared to think.

In the dark corners of her mind, she’d wondered what would happen once one of them actually managed to get their cutie mark, once the Cutie Mark Crusaders had no reason to exist. When they found their own special talents, wouldn’t they go their separate ways to learn more about them? It was what adults always did.

Wasn’t that what was happening right now anyway?

But if they all had the same special talent, then wouldn’t they stick together?

Magic had been the obvious guess to glue them together forever. Sure, they’d all have different specializations, but that would just give them a wider breadth of knowledge to work with.

But that wasn’t going to happen. Not anymore. Even if they did all end up with magic cutie marks, they’d been separated. Sweetie Belle would be a fool to turn aside her apprenticeship. Scootaloo had a fancy new school to attend under her own idol.

And Apple Bloom had Zecora. The only people who might be better able to teach her alchemy lived on an entire other continent. If she had any chance at all of getting a cutie mark in magic, it’d be here in Ponyville.

Not that she expected that to happen. Life seemed more fond of taking from her than giving.

A bit of white blocked Apple Bloom’s vision. It took her a second to realize the princes had hung a tissue in front of her. She didn’t resist the favor and blew her nose. It didn’t make her feel any better, but at least she wasn’t leaking as much. And only now did she realize that not only had she stopped walking but that the princess had also first led them into a secluded spot for some privacy.

“Apple Bloom,” the princess said now that her charge had regained a semblance of dignity. “I have no easy answer for you. Being separated from your friends is hard. Giving up something you could dedicate your entire life to in order to remain with them is hard. A healthy balance is not always possible to achieve. Some friendships are worth the effort. Some are not. The one thing I do know is what happens when you choose not to talk to the ponies you love. Your friends will accept your feelings if you share them. In turn, you should accept theirs, whatever they may be. No good will come of bottling them up until you explode.”

“I already know what their feelings are,” Apple Bloom said in a low, defeated voice.

“Do you? Or do you merely suspect?”

Apple Bloom said nothing. She knew. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t had their emotional parting of ways with Sweetie Belle already.

A small sigh came from Princess Celestia. “Perhaps I asked the wrong question. Do they know how you feel?”

“Yes.” They had to, right? “Sweetie Belle can read minds, you know.” Without a doubt, Apple Bloom had let some of her thoughts slip when they’d last been together. Surely she had.

“Generosity.” The word came as soft and longingly as a lover’s whisper. “Ah, I miss it so. But it got me into trouble a few times. It has its failings. I find, when it comes to friendship, that assumptions tend to cause more problems than they solve.”

Apple Bloom managed a rueful chuckle. “No offense, Princess, but you sound like my big sister.”

“You honor me to place me amongst such hallowed company.” But despite her words and her mock bow, there was a distinctly strained quality to Princess Celestia’s smile.

Before Apple Bloom could find the right words to ask what that was about, Princess Celestia ushered them back out onto the road to Sweet Apple Acres. As they walked, she said, “For whatever comfort an old mare’s advice is worth, it can sometimes be good to have time apart from your friends. Are there not things they enjoy that you have less interest in?”

It didn’t take long for Apple Bloom to come up with an answer. “Sweetie Belle likes music. She wrote our theme song. And Scootaloo I think likes when our crusades go wrong a little too much.”

“And what about you?”

As before, Apple Bloom found an answer right away. “I really like designing things to build. New things. Old things. Anything to spark the creative juices. I even get royalties from a few of my inventions.”

“Truly?”

“Uh-huh. It’s how we funded ourselves. We–” No, that wasn’t really right anymore, now was it? “I own the patents on some of the things I designed for our crusades.” Mostly it was a bunch of specialty items involving electronics, useful when somepony needed a nonmagical solution. That field was rife with low hanging fruit and a teeny-tiny, niche market. It was almost insulting that her income from all that amounted to a trickle in comparison to the literal toy she’d made. “I invented the pogo stick.”

“Oh?” Princess Celestia sounded impressed.

Apple Bloom couldn’t resist a small huff. “It’s a spring on a stick. I’m surprised somepony didn’t think of it sooner.”

“If only you had thought of the hula hoop first,” Princess Celestia said in some wry amusement.

“It’s just a hoop! We’ve used them for barrels since forever!” Honestly, the things ponies could slap their names on! “Who even owns that?”

Princess Celestia awkwardly cleared her throat.

And that was just perfect, wasn’t it? As if Apple Bloom hadn’t embarrassed herself enough in front of the princess already, now she just had to go and open her big mouth again.

“To be fair,” Princess Celestia began, “it expired centuries ago, and I only ever held it in trust. It started as something of a joke and became an argument for early patent reform. The idea of intellectual property was relatively new at the time and still in need of refinement.”

“Huh.” If Miss Cheerilee had lectures half as interesting as the princess’s idle anecdotes, Apple Bloom might have done better on her last history exam at the end of this spring term.

At any rate, seeing as they were back at Sweet Apple Acres, Apple Bloom thanked Princess Celestia for walking her home and talking with her. She wasn’t any happier about anything, but she had to admit she felt a little better after having somepony really listen to her.

A thought did occur, however, before they parted ways. “Um, Princess? Granny Smith said you were the one who gave us our land. Is that true?”

After a long and thoughtful hum, Princess Celestia said, “Oh, yes. My, that must have been nearly sixty years ago now.” The slightest hint of a cringe passed over her face. “Such dreadful bonnets. What were we thinking?”

“Right…” Perhaps it was for the best that Apple Bloom didn’t really understand that remark. “Well, thank you for that. We’re having a family reunion right now, so it’s a bit…” She shrugged in lieu of saying anything awful. “But if you want, Granny Smith would want to see you, and we could probably find some zap apple jam somewhere or some cider, if you’d like. It’s not much, I know, but it’s what we got.”

Princess Celestia first eyed the sun low on the horizon and then said, “It would be an honor.”





Flash patiently waited just beside the crystal mirror’s controls. The synchronized clock sat atop a stool just beside him, slowly ticking down the seconds until the group’s intended return. A minute became thirty seconds, then twenty, fifteen, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five…

The battery powering the portal fired up. It was a few seconds early, but Flash knew they expected to be able to cross through after precisely an hour, so better to have it open, ready and waiting for their return. There was enough power left in the battery for all of them to make it anyway, and if not, they could recharge it. Bits, he’d come to realize, meant a whole lot less when one had access to the archmage’s purse.

As Lyra went through first, so did she return first. Flash first saw the splash of aquamarine that was the end of her muzzle poke through the mirror’s surface. A strange rippling effect spread out from there like water in slow motion, but when more of her came through, it was clear the waves didn’t obey any proper physical laws. The changing cross section of her body didn’t create the expected chaos of waves interfering with–

Something was very, very wrong. Instead of the unicorn Flash had come to know, a very Lyra-esque seapony flopped to the floor with a heavy, “Oof!” It would have been comedic if it wasn’t a seapony.

In almost a blink of an eye, the seapony’s body reformed itself into the very image of Lyra Heartstrings from horn to cutie mark.

“I… What?”

Drawing attention to himself was a mistake. Flash took a step back when the seapony in disguise shot a fierce glare at him. Even as other ponies began exiting the portal, she stepped uncomfortably close and hissed, “You saw nothing. Understood?”

Flash nodded in perfect silence.

“Good.” The seapony backed off.

Yet it wouldn’t do to just let this go like that. “But you’re Lyra, right?”

The seapony turned back to him, nodded, and then frowned. She spun next to Twilight, who was dancing – if that was what she called that strange ritual – while gleefully casting spells at everything in sight for no apparent reason. “Can I have Honesty back now?”

Twilight, with the widest, most beautiful smile on her face Flash had ever seen, cocked her head to the side, momentarily confused. Then realization struck. “Oh. Sure.” She called Magic to her for a second and then sent it back to wherever it’d come from. “Just summon it back to yourself.”

A moment later, the seapony – Lyra – had Honesty around her neck. All was apparently well with the world. “Satisfied?” she asked.

Flash nodded again. He probably should have just used Loyalty to verify her identity, but that worked just as well. And if Lyra was secretly a seapony, well, that was fine with him. It wasn’t like she’d tried to torture them or something equally psychopathic. If she hadn’t yet, she probably wouldn’t in the future.

Once everyone had made it through the portal, Flash shut it down. He gave them a few moments to readjust to their home universe and then asked, “So how was the trip?”

“A nightmare,” came Twilight’s instant response.

“Boring,” Spike added, to which Sweetie Belle promptly agreed.

Trixie snorted and then said, “The exit is in a locked lab with no alternative way out.”

“We failed to arrive during business hours,” Bon Bon said.

Pinkie, unbroken, went with, “We had fun! We played cards with these weird noodly things like claws.” She held up one of Spike’s hands at eye level as a visual aid, much to the shorter dragon’s displeasure.

“It was oddly satisfying,” Lyra added.

Lastly, Twilight said, “You can find out for yourself tomorrow. I’m volunteering to stay behind next time.”





It had been so very tempting to allow herself to get drunk, but Twilight considered herself more responsible than that. Sure, the human world had been traumatizing to visit, but that didn’t mean she had to reach for the brain bleach to forget. She had far more efficient ways to do that with magic, after all. Not that she would, of course, but the option was there.

Twilight lifted her cider to her lips and tipped her head back. The fizzy, burning sensation from the alcohol helped clear her mind just a bit. She slammed her cup down and silently commanded her tavern’s barmare to refill it.

The human world. What a horrid place. She’d known going in that magic wouldn’t work properly, but she certainly hadn’t expected to be completely cut off from her magic there! It was like dying in a way. It’d still been her, still part of her, but she’d felt disconnected like somepony had carved out the core of her. It was no wonder Star Swirl had used that universe as an alternative to Tartarus for beings too powerful to contain.

Twilight immediately took another drink as soon as it arrived at her table. She almost felt bad for planning to send Luna to that world even just for a few minutes.

Speaking of whom, Luna’s arrival just rang the doorbell. Twilight took the short time it would take the mare to seek her out to compose herself as best as she could.

Soon enough, Luna sat down at their table. They made their salutations. She ordered a drink in peace. It arrived.

And then Twilight pounced.

“So I asked Trixie for a better description of ‘Sunny’.”

Luna snorted into her drink with enough force to send the liquid flying all over her. Even then, she only kept on laughing afterward without a care.

“When were you going to tell me there’s a parallel version of Sunset running around?”

And really, Twilight still didn’t understand how that made any sense. Their worlds were completely different. Even if one ignored the DNA and the cultural problems of making their worlds ‘parallel’ in the literary sense, there were so many other absurdities to overcome. If she didn’t know how the mirror worked, she would have assumed it created a pocket dimension loosely based on what it reflected.

“Oh, dear Twilight,” Luna began as she finally fought back her laughter. She cast a spell to clean herself up and said, “Sunny has spent so much time here. It would be an injustice to call her parallel any longer.”

It had occurred to Twilight to wonder how a Sunset Shimmer crossing over worlds as a filly would be changed for the experience. That whole universe had probably already started experiencing the ripple effects by now as well. Luna had mentioned that Sunny had managed to get magic to work there. That had to have had major repercussions. She couldn’t imagine any Sunset Shimmer contenting herself to a life of obscurity and solitary academic fulfillment.

And apparently Sunny and the human Twilight Sparkle were coworkers? Friends? Maybe sisters? Twilight wouldn’t know until she asked, she supposed, but the age difference between them really showed in the human world. For all she knew, the other her might look upon Sunny as a mother figure. That would be…weird.

Despite that mental image, Twilight somehow felt calmer now and certainly more settled. She opted for a controlled sip of her cider rather than the long gulps she’d been favoring.

“By the way,” Luna said, “I have it on good authority that the human you has vowed to make out with you if you two ever meet.”

Twilight choked on her drink.





They’d come prepared for a long wait this time just in case after an early start. If the human Twilight Sparkle was anything like their version, she would be a night owl. Late to bed, late to rise, and probably late to work. The human Sunset Shimmer, better known in Equestria as Sunny, was more of an unknown. Given that they apparently worked together, however, they probably kept the same schedule. Still, better to be bored waiting than to potentially miss this last chance to explore before the solstice made everyone too busy to bother for who knew how long.

Sweetie Belle heard them before her weak nose picked up the delicious smell of their lunch. The conversation came across muted and indistinct, but a conversation it had to be by the cadence. They stopped in front of the door out of the lab for a few moments until a strange beep filled the air. Then came the sound of the door unlocking.

This was it. Sweetie Belle wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about meeting a parallel version of her mentor. Would this Twilight be anything like Archmage Twilight? In a world almost without magic, what would fill the void? If there was a human Sweetie Belle, did they even know each other?

A quick glance over the rest of the lab left Sweetie Belle reassured that everyone else was away from the door. They didn’t want the humans to freak out, run away, and call the police. That would be quite the diplomatic blunder.

Finally, they made their appearance.

Sunny looked just as she did in the photo they’d found of her except for a few more years of wear and tear from aging. She had a cheap paper box in one hand and a pair of wooden sticks in the other with noodles dangling from them. They only made it halfway to her mouth when she noticed her uninvited guests.

On the other hoof – or hand, rather – the human Twilight Sparkle could easily pass for Archmage Twilight’s twin in reality just as she could have in the photo. The only real difference between the two was a pair of thick glasses perched atop her nose and their preferred hairstyle. With a sample size of two, it was clear that this one liked to wear hers up in a bun. She had a similar box full of food and a pair of sticks, but hers seemed to contain some sort of rice dish.

The two groups stared at each other for a few moments.

Twilight set her sticks down. She said something that might as well have been Zebrican for all that Sweetie Belle understood it. The only intelligible words she caught were three names: Pinkie, Trixie, and her own.

As they’d agreed beforehand, Trixie took the lead. “Sunny, remember me? We met a few times in our dreams.”

Sunny’s eyes widened in time with her smile, and she elbowed Twilight. “Sparky, they’re Equestrian.”

The hint of annoyance vanished from Twilight’s face. A raspberry glow, a perfect match to the color of Archmage Twilight’s magic, lit up her free hand and her glasses as she straightened them with telekinesis. “Really?” she asked in a messy attempt at Ponish so unlike Sunny’s own perfect Canterlot accent. The fascination came through clearly all the same. “You’re all ponies? But the portal…”

“We forced it open on our end,” Trixie explained. “Our Twilight Sparkle found the mirror’s documentation.”

Sunny’s gaze immediately went toward the portal. “Can we go through it right now?” The eager anticipation sparkling in her eyes faded, if only slightly, when Trixie shot her down.

“Not for a while. The mirror takes a lot of power to hold open, and we’re not due to check in for hours yet.”

“But you can open it whenever you want for travel?” Twilight asked with no less interest than Sunny.

Trixie, however reluctant to please any Twilight Sparkle, answered, “I guess.”

“Well then. I suppose there’s no harm to us playing host.” Sunny looked to Twilight for any objections and received none. “What brings you to our neck of the multiverse?”

With a shrug, Trixie said, “Curiosity. To explore.” Rather sarcastically, she added, “Group bonding with our fearless leader who refuses to step hoof in this world again. She freaked out over the dead connection to our magic here.”

Personally, Sweetie Belle felt that was an understandable reaction. She felt uncomfortable with it as well, if not nearly to the same extent. Maybe Archmage Twilight was so much more affected because her special talent was magic, full stop? Who knew? Trixie was being unfair.

“I understand the sentiment,” Sunny confessed. “The time after I first returned from Equestria was…rough.”

Even the nearly nonmagical human agreed!

Heedless to this, Trixie scoffed. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is not bothered by such petty things.”

Twilight muttered something under her breath in her own language.

And then her eyes fell onto the only nonhuman in their group. “Spike?” Twilight breathed. Not waiting for an answer, she swept him up into her arms and hugged him tight to her chest. “Oh, Spike, how are you alive?” Asking everyone but him, she said, “Do dogs live longer in Equestria?”

That was about as ironic of a question as anyone could ask.

Annoyed and perfectly willing to show it as he struggled to break free, Spike said, “I’m a dragon, not a dog.”

Twilight’s gaze snapped down to Spike. A moment later, she emitted a loud, startled shriek and let him fall to the floor. He landed clumsily, clearly not used to being quadrupedal, but it was hard to lose one’s balance entirely with four legs.

“You can talk!” Twilight asked, taking a half step back.

In the extreme opposite reaction, Sunny leaned closer with a curious expression on her face. “Not the strangest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said. “More importantly, how do you talk? Magic? Or is your anatomy different than a regular dog’s?”

Spike retreated under the increasingly scrutinizing gaze and sought refuge in Sweetie Belle’s lap. She internally shrugged and placed a hand atop his back protectively.

Meanwhile, Twilight pulled Sunny back by the nape of her collar. “You never told me that Equestrians keep dragons for pets!” she hissed.

Naturally, Spike overheard and protested, “I’m not a pet!”

Twilight blinked once, momentarily confused, and then said, “Well, I should hope not. You’re obviously intelligent.” Her brow furrowed, confused once more. “But then what exactly is your relationship with the other me?”

“Mom hatched me and raised me.”

That visibly hit the other Twilight like a ton of bricks. Her eyes widened, and she collapsed back against the desk behind her. At her side, Sunny placed a steadying hand upon her shoulder.

The pair exchanged a look, the sort that had far more meaning in it than a mere glance ever should. Twilight had a bit of a glare about her, and Sunny ended up raising her hands in surrender after the exchange. As nothing more was said, Sweetie Belle wasn’t sure what to make of it beyond the obvious.

“Soooo,” Sweetie Belle said, drawing it out nice and long, to break the silence. “You two know me? The human me?”

“We’re acquainted,” Sunny drawled as though that were a bad thing.

“Rarity designed the dresses we wore when we received our Nobel Prize in Physics,” Twilight further explained. “We’ve become friends since.”

It seemed that some things, even when they occurred purely by chance, stayed the same across universes.

Pinkie took the opportunity to ask, “And me?”

“You run our favorite bakery a few blocks away,” Sunny replied.

As Sweetie Belle expected, Pinkie looked exceedingly pleased with that answer.

Then Sunny turned to Trixie and flatly said, “You don’t want to know.”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie cares not what some pretender gets up to.”

That, too, was about what Sweetie Belle had expected from Trixie.

Sunny had a sudden look of realization about her as though she’d just remembered something she’d forgotten. “Actually,” she said, turning to Twilight, “speaking of Rarity, didn’t you mention plans for tonight?”

Sweetie Belle gasped as silently as she could manage, and she even felt Spike tense up on her lap. Plans between Twilight and Rarity? Could it be? Was it a date! Would that happen back home too? That would be the greatest possible thing ever! She turned her gaze onto Twilight and tried not to look too hopeful.

The human Twilight slapped a hand to her forehead. “Sweetie Belle’s concert. I promised I’d go.”

If she had her natural pony form, Sweetie Belle would have felt her ears perk up at that. Actually, it felt a little weird that she couldn’t move them, now that she thought of it. But that didn’t matter right now. “A concert! Me?”

“Well, it’s not yours,” Twilight said, much to Sweetie Belle’s disappointment. “It’s a charity thing. You’re in it, though. Well, not you, but you know. You’re quite good, actually. Er, she is, that is. Well, I assume you are as well…” She trailed off awkwardly, probably hoping not to dig herself any deeper into a hole. After a moment to stare at her clearly fascinating feet, she cleared her throat. “Right. Anyway, a few talent scouts have actually approached her already. Her parents aren’t keen on letting her enter showbiz so young, but–”

Sweetie Belle, to her later surprise, found herself tuning out a Twilight Sparkle. She’d already heard what she wanted to know. So the human me is a singer? Huh. That sounds…nice. It wouldn’t do for her, of course. Magic was too enticing a subject to give up so completely. But at the same time, she couldn’t deny that she liked the idea.

“Can we go?” Sweetie Belle asked, interrupting the conversation that’d gone on without her. “To the concert?”

As no one had any objections to that use of their time here today, they turned to Twilight. She presumed that the tickets wouldn’t be sold out for a simple local performance, so it was decided. They’d spend the day wandering around, taking in the sights and absorbing the culture, and then tonight they’d attend the concert.





Apple Bloom did her best not to breathe as she finished cleaning out the pigpen. Chores, sadly, didn’t stop needing doing just because there was a family reunion going on, a holiday approaching, or an alicorn princess due to return from exile tomorrow night. Nope, not for her. Her friends were a different story. Scootaloo had permission to run wild during the festival, and Sweetie Belle, well, she’d never really had chores to begin with, had she? Not beyond a few token things around Rarity’s boutique, at least. Part of that had to do with her comically bad domestic skills, but the point stood.

Regardless, this last bucket of filth would end Apple Bloom’s labor for the day. She heaved its contents into the fertilizer pile to decay. She knew a potion to speed up the process, but nothing ever changed around here. Applejack especially had a stubborn streak about that, and nopony ever told her why.

Not that any of her griping really mattered, Apple Bloom knew. When she was old enough to strike out on her own, she would. Farm life wasn’t for her.

Apple Bloom caught a whiff of the stench clinging to her from a passing breeze. She blew out through her nose as hard as she could to get the smell out. After that last chore, she desperately needed a long shower. It probably wouldn’t hurt to brush her teeth as well just in case.

It wasn’t until midday when Apple Bloom finally had the rest of the afternoon to herself. Now she had to decide what to do with it. Zecora had work to do. Scootaloo said she had to practice her weather magic today while Rainbow Dash was away. Most of Apple Bloom’s ongoing projects were a little too involved to work on with her entire extended family on the farm.

Well, there was always the reunion. She should probably show her face there at least for one full day instead of wandering off to do her own thing. Maybe she could find her cousin, Babs, and swap stories. That could be fun.

So resolved, Apple Bloom made her way down to the tent Babs’s family was supposed to be staying in to start her search. She failed to find her quarry there, so she checked in on some of her younger cousins who might be able to send her in the right direction. Unfortunately, none of them knew either, so she turned to scouting out food sources. With any luck, she might bump into Babs having a late lunch. If that didn’t work, she’d probably have to head into town to scour the festival for a misplaced tourist.

That was where Apple Bloom found her. The Archmage of Equestria sat there on that bench in disguise as Index amongst a dozen Apples as if she had nowhere better to be. They were eating lunch together and idly chatting about only Celestia knew what.

The sight of it strangely irritated Apple Bloom. She marched right up to Archmage Twilight and asked, “Shouldn’t you be with the others?” She ignored her great aunt’s chastisement for not minding her manners.

“The last time I was here, I recall, I was invited to return anytime. Not the precise words used, granted, but ones to that effect.”

That deserved no more a response than the raised eyebrows Apple Bloom gave it.

Archmage Twilight politely excused herself from the conversation and, with a nod of her head, invited Apple Bloom to walk with her. This was going to be all secret like, then? Apple Bloom could appreciate that.

When they were a fair way removed from the others, Archmage Twilight asked, “Did you know your family has a long history with Luna?”

Apple Bloom froze in place for a moment. “Say what now?”

“You might want to take advantage of this reunion to ask around about her. She’s mostly just old stories now, it seems, but there’s more truth to them than I think anypony here realizes. Some are quite interesting. There’s more to your family than first meets the eye.”

“Huh.” That was certainly something worth looking into, but that wasn’t really what Apple Bloom wanted to know. Not that Archmage Twilight hadn’t taken the wind out of her sails. Even so, she asked, “Is that why you’re here and not, you know, off adventuring?”

“Who says I’m not with the others?”

“I do,” Apple Bloom said. “You’re right here.” How was that not obvious? “Unless…” She poked the archmage. “Yep. Real.” When magic got involved, one could never be too sure.

Archmage Twilight chuckled. “You have the right idea, but nopony ever said I can’t be in two places at once.”

Flabbergasted, Apple Bloom asked, “You can do that!” Getting a nod, she said, “That is so unfair.”

“Perhaps, but it’s not an easy trick. It’s not a simple as casting the spell. Dividing your attention is hard. Although just between you and me, my main body isn’t really doing anything right now. My friendship plan backfired on me a bit last evening.”

That didn’t sound good. “Is everypony okay?”

“Well, I’ve left everyone no worse off than they started, I think.”

If the archmage intended to inspire confidence, Apple Bloom found her sorely lacking. “What happened?”

After a quick promise to keep this secret, Archmage Twilight shared the latest details of the bearers’ adventures in the Frozen North.

“Let me get this straight. Sweetie Belle gets to go to a whole new universe?” That would have made for the crusade of a lifetime!

Archmage Twilight knew exactly what was on Apple Bloom’s mind. She said, “I’m sure we can arrange something if you and your friends want to spend a day there.”

“Honest?” Apple Bloom meant no offense, but it was almost too good to be true.

And in the face of that suspicion, Archmage Twilight merely said, “I don’t see why not. I don’t know if I will ever go there again, but I see no reason to restrict tourism now that we can open the portal on demand. Then again, that means immigration, border controls, diplomatic missions…” She grunted and then dismissively added, “Whatever. Not my problem.” A moment later, she amended that last statement. “Well, border control will probably become my problem. Urgh, never mind. The point is I have no problem with letting you use the mirror. It actually belongs to Luna, but if she objects, I can just make another one that goes to the same place now that I have the destination coordinates.”

Apple Bloom politely ignored most of the archmage’s ramblings. All that really mattered was that she’d given the okay. Apple Bloom reflexively moved for a high hoof to start the Crusaders’ ever changing motto. Except she was alone right now, so she half-heartedly set her hoof back down on the ground.

That really took all the fun out of it.

At any rate, there was another question Apple Bloom wanted to ask. “So are you, Sweetie Belle, and the others gonna win tomorrow night?”

Archmage Twilight didn’t answer right away, which alone spoke volumes. She did, however, eventually say, “Win is a strong word. I don’t think anypony can ‘win’ tomorrow except perhaps Luna. I had hoped to reconcile the royal sisters, but that’s turned into a longer project. No, no matter what happens tomorrow, somepony is going to be hurt. Likely a lot of someponies.”

“But not hurt hurt…right?”

A heavy sigh escaped Archmage Twilight. “No, I think not. I made sure of that.” That didn’t sound like a victory the way she said it.

With no better idea to change the subject from all this doom and gloom, Apple Bloom asked, “So what’s going on in the other universe?”

“I’m unsure,” Archmage Twilight replied. “I sent them over this morning, but they missed their first check in time.”

“Are they all right?”

Archmage Twilight nodded. “They left me a note. Apparently, they’re ‘out’.”





“Wait, what is it called again?” Sweetie Belle asked. She poked at the strange device Twilight had called a phone, and it suddenly started playing a recording of this world’s version of her singing her heart out. She was good. Really good. It was only too bad she didn’t understand a word of the lyrics.

With just a hint of resigned amusement, Twilight replied, “The Internet.”

“But there’s no net,” Spike protested from where he sat literally watching over Sweetie Belle’s shoulder. They were packed tight into a horseless carriage that ran without magic, and there wasn’t any particularly better spot for him.

“Net being short for network, Spike.” As the carriage came to a stop at an intersection, Twilight glanced back at them from the steering wheel. “The details are complicated, but… Well, if what Sunny has told me about your world is true, you can sort of think about it as a bunch of dragons sending mail back and forth to each other. Just several orders of magnitude more mail.”

“Huh.”

As Sweetie Belle played with the device more, she couldn’t help but think Apple Bloom would have loved this place.





It wasn’t the most productive day ever, but after Twilight had eventually left the Apple family’s boisterous reunion behind, she’d had the rest of it all to herself. It’d been a while since she’d last had some uninterrupted peace and quiet. Between the bearers in the waking world, Luna in her dreams, and everypony else currently on the periphery, she’d not truly had any real alone time in far too long.

Sadly, it was ending. The alarm clock went off, reminding Twilight that she needed to recharge the crystal mirror’s battery. She didn’t bother to put her book down as she did so. Rather, she merely went through the motions. This was the sort of routine magical task she could do in her sleep.

It was only when the second alarm rang that Twilight stored her book in her bag of holding. She sighed, braced herself for more social time, and then put on a smile to welcome everyone back.

The first pony through the portal was Lyra. Twilight had known the mirror stripped enchantments, polymorphs included, from having gone through it herself, but it only hit her now when she saw Lyra the seapony just barely catch herself with her magic before flopping to the floor what that really meant. It was good to know Flash knew how to keep his mouth shut.

Lyra readopted her unicorn form in haste as the next pony followed through right after her. The graying mane came as a surprise, but the fading colors gave away its owner’s identity.

“Sunset?”

The other Sunset Shimmer sent Twilight a familiar cocky grin. “Heya, Sparky. Look after yourself for me, will you? I have a few ponies to say hi to before they kick the bucket.”

And just like that, the human Sunset teleported out into the Frozen North. Hopefully she knew where she was going. And that her pony counterpart was still technically wanted for crimes against the crown.

“Sunny?”

Twilight came face to face with Twilight.

“Uh, she just left,” Twilight managed to get out. This was weird, right? “Welcome to Equestria? Is this your first visit?”

“Yes. Earlier than I expected.” The human Twilight experimented with the range of movement of her legs, neck, tail, and even her ears. “Fascinating. How do I do magic?”

After a lengthy pause to best consider how to answer that, Twilight decided on, “With a lot of practice.” Learning to properly use a horn took years. Being an adult with all the maturity that entailed might help, but she’d never had the misfortune of having to teach magic kindergarten to grown ponies. “How do you do it at home?”

“Oh, I channel magic into artifacts. Humans don’t have the biology to support natural casting, it turns out.”

Twilight didn’t think she’d ever need to know that, but it was interesting nonetheless.

Before they could say any more, two hyperactive foals appeared. Sweetie Belle and Spike started belting out everything they’d experienced to her in a rapid-fire exchange over the course of seconds that left her neck sore from the back and forth. From what she gathered, they’d attended a concert involving the human Sweetie Belle after a long day of sightseeing.

When the whirlwind finally departed, the other Twilight said, “Sorry about that. We may have given them too much sugar.”

“Ah.” That would burn out of Spike’s digestive system quickly, at least, now that he was a dragon again.

Looking around, Twilight saw that everyone who was supposed to be here had made it through the portal. She thus turned it off after confirming that no one else would get caught between universes.

Now that all that was out of the way, Twilight gave her opposite a more scrutinizing look. She had her mane up in a bun, which was a good look for her, she admitted, if perhaps requiring too much work. They had the same cutie mark, oddly enough. She hadn’t expected her human self to have one at all, let alone one in magic. But then Sunny and this Twilight Sparkle were studying magic in the other world, so perhaps that checked out after all. The glasses were an odd addition, however. She’d never needed them nor corrective procedures.

“So…” Twilight began. How did one best strike up a friendship with oneself? “Your Sunset calls you Sparky?” That would do for an icebreaker, she supposed. And it stayed far away from what Luna had told her last night. She was not going to embarrass herself again over this sort of thing. Especially since, now that she thought of it, she was fairly certain Luna had only been messing with her.

“Yeah. What does yours call you?”

“Sparkles.”

The other Twilight snicker-snorted before she could stop herself. “What, do you sparkle when you cast magic?”

“No.” Twilight rolled her eyes. “Magic has a tendency to sparkle here–”

“Same at home,” the other Twilight interjected.

“–but I seriously doubt that’s why she went with the name. Why Sparky?”

The other Twilight developed a noticeable blush before she forced it down. “Well, this was before Sunny went public with magic and changed the world. She heard about you on one of her visits and decided to recruit me. I’d been tracking some strange energy readings and managed to build a crude thaumometer. I went looking for her. She was looking for me. When we finally bumped into each other, my thaumometer overloaded, short-circuited, and shocked me. My hair poofed out from the static charge I ended up with. It wasn’t the best first impression. When we shook hands, I shocked her, and, well, she rolled with it.”

“All right, you win the amusing backstory award,” Twilight said, and they traded smiles. She assumed that was why her opposite self wore her mane up instead of letting it hang loose. And this amusing anecdote presented a good opportunity to resolve a problem they were going to have very soon. “It’s going to be too awkward having two of us around. You’re Sparky.”

“And you’re Sparkles?” Sparky asked.

Twilight shrugged and nodded. They could call dibs on Twilight Sparkle in their own home universes, she supposed, but it’d be easier to just pick permanent names to use for each other.

“How long are you planning to stay?” Twilight asked. Sunny had run off to parts unknown and could be gone for days.

Sparky, however, replied, “I only planned to get my feet wet tonight. You can send me back, right?”

“Yeah, that’s no problem. So long as it’s just the two of you, you and Sunny can come and go as you please now. If you want to bring more people across, we’re going to have to talk about visas.”

It took a few moments of bemused staring for Sparky to remember exactly who she was speaking to. “Oh, right. I’m – you’re an important government official here. That’s so strange to think about. I mean, me with that sort of responsibility?”

“I assure you it’s just as bad as you imagine,” Twilight replied wryly. “But if you ever want to trade places for a day…”

“No thank you.” Sparky’s refusal came in an instant.

Twilight clicked her tongue.

“So? Show me around?”

“Well, knowing me, you’ll like it here, but there’s not much to see. This is my own secret lab of solitude.”

Naturally, Sparky’s eyes lit up at the mere idea.

“Or it was. It’s pulling double duty as a friendship retreat right now, unfortunately. We’re in a bit of a situation at the moment.” And with Sunny having removed herself from the equation, Twilight had no qualms about warning her counterpart of events to come. “On that subject, you might want to clear out some space around the portal tomorrow night on your end. There’s a very strong possibility I’ll be forcefully sending an angry goddess through the mirror to fight on equal terms.”





Apple Bloom stared up at the mare in the moon from her bedroom window. The solstice, the shortest night, would happen tomorrow. That was when it would all happen. The where, Apple Bloom knew, had to be the Castle of the Royal Pony sisters in the Everfree Forest. That was what Princess Celestia had called it, she thought. Why else would the princess show up personally to evict trespassers?

“Sweetie Belle, I hope you’re doing well. I’ll sneak away from the festival with Scootaloo to come cheer you on. I promise.”

It was the least Apple Bloom could do for a friend. She wished she could do more, but what more could she do?

It was going to be hard to get to sleep tonight. Maybe that was for the best. She’d be up late tomorrow, after all.

All of Equestria would.
> Chapter Twenty Seven - The Solstice (Part One)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Naught but the scritch-scratch of a quill on paper broke the silence in her far too barren library. She penned the final words of her journal, pleased for just one moment, and then let out a heavy sigh.





It was time.

She passed through the corridors of her manor at just shy of a trot. The works of art – paintings, sculptures, ceramics, weapons, and more – on display had not the slightest claim upon her mind. She needed to go deeper.

She wound her way down stairs, past mundane traps, and into the wards that protected her true treasure hoard. They were a subtle beast, not intended to drive anypony away. Even the greatest magics could be circumvented with enough care or, more importantly, sheer raw power. Everything before now kept the rabble out. These wards were meant to summon her in secret should somepony intrude. Nopony who could make their way this far deserved anything less than her full attention.

The final set of doors were an ostentatious display of pure gold, enchanted for durability and studded with gems. She’d constructed them during her vainer years. If they didn’t play into the final defense against the greedy so perfectly, she would have melted them down ages ago.

There she paused to reflect.

What was she doing here?

This wasn’t her responsibility.

Did she really want to do this?

It would be a massive drain on her resources.

What did she gain?

A clean conscience.

She swore under her breath and threw open the vault doors.

A literal mountain of gold, jewels, and artifacts sprawled out below her in the expansive cavern. Racks of paintings coated the rough, rock walls. Artifacts hung on display. Historical relics sat securely in their containers. Suits of armor rested upon their stands. Every manner of treasure the world had ever produced lay within. It made her the envy of every dragon in want of a larger hoard.

It was also the last defense against those who could be tempted away from true power. Rather than descend the stone stairs jutting out from the cavern wall to the floor below, she sought out the small chamber somewhere just below the treasure heap with her magic. Once she found it, she teleported straight inside.

The room contained nothing more than a crude elevator consisting of a platform attached to a rope slung over a pulley hanging above a pit that led down into darkness. There was no magic here to give away its existence. There was no magic here that what laid below might potentially disrupt.

She stepped aboard the elevator and lowered herself into the shaft.

After nearly a minute of steady descent, the narrow passage down opened into a massive emptiness that dwarfed even the treasury above. Great columns of stone supported the ceiling. Although she could only see the nearest ones by the light of her horn, she knew they went on and on.

Below, however, she could sense the power that dwelt here. It was too simple to be called her magnum opus, merely a basic component of any artifact blown up to an enormous scale that could hold a modestly sized city inside it. All the same, it was the work of an ordinary lifetime.

The wooden thud of the elevator upon reaching her destination echoed throughout the cavern. At her hooves was not bedrock but magic. Pure, raw magic taken from the surrounding ambient magic of Equus, solidified and continuously added to at a steady rate for decades, filled the great hall like an ocean.

Sunset expanded the volume of her subspace storage.





It was time.

The hive had prepared. In the absolute worst-case scenario, they could retreat to the badlands south of Equestria. There, they’d secured a hideaway deep enough underground to avoid freezing to death. The only thing they lacked for their survival was a herd of ponies, not that it would be hard to convince a city’s worth to move in with them after the summer frost set in.

But Chrysalis trusted Twilight perhaps more than anyone else outside the hive. Since she said she had the situation under control, at least to the point of avoiding any end of the world scenarios, Chrysalis felt confident she would deliver on that promise. She’d never failed to keep her word before.

Thus with nothing better to do, Chrysalis languidly strolled about Princess Cadance’s manor in the form of a stray cat and kept an eye on the nymphs. If something went horribly wrong, she would personally grab Ocellus and lead the hive in their exodus.

For now, however, Chrysalis wished Archmage Twilight luck.





It was time.

In her mind, Moon Dancer read Twilight’s letter over and over as she made her way toward Captain Armor’s office.

‘Moon Dancer, come to the Old Castle as soon as possible. Bring Celestia, my brother, and some of his underlings, preferably earth ponies. Also, grab Tempest. Starlight won’t do unless she’s recovered. Twilight.’

That would be all well and good normally, except Moon Dancer didn’t know where any of them were!

Captain Armor would be the easiest to track down. He hadn’t left Equestria on his hunt for Eclipse, so he should be able to make it to the Everfree if he hurried. She’d already sent a letter via flame sending recalling him, in any case. He’d not yet posted a reply, but she presumed he would follow orders if able.

Starlight and Tempest were out at sea. Moon Dancer suspected the former still had trouble with her horn, and the latter probably couldn’t get them back to Equestria quickly enough. That normally wouldn’t constitute a problem. While Twilight was probably too busy to spare the time to fetch them, they had a powerhouse that spent most every day lounging around the castle not using her magic.

But Princess Celestia was gone! Moon Dancer hadn’t the slightest idea of when she’d left nor to where she’d gone. Moreover, wherever she was, letters couldn’t reach her!

And that left Moon Dancer with little option but to speak with the vice-captain of the guard to acquire ‘underlings’. That one request, at least, she could fulfill. She even had a good idea for getting earth ponies safely through the forest. If they couldn’t walk through it, she’d just have to drop them from far enough above to be outside the influence of the forest’s chaotic magic.

With parachutes, of course. And maybe a magical bubble of breathable air.





It was time.

It’d been a long while since Sweetie Drops had sat down for a proper meeting as the head of the Anti-Monster Division. Incog had called everypony together for one last group briefing before Princess Luna returned from banishment. As the one who’d spent the past several weeks hanging out with the archmage, one might be forgiven for thinking she had the most to share.

She did not. Most of what Sweetie Drops knew consisted of private information that had little bearing on the current situation. Half of what wasn’t were things few ponies needed to know, and the other half consisted of basic mission details everypony either already knew or didn’t need to know. Indeed, it was even still a secret, apparently, that Princess Luna had been dreamwalking for the past thousand years, so everypony still thought that they were dealing with the return of Nightmare Moon despite Princess Celestia’s little surprise announcement the other day.

But even if Sweetie Drops had shared everything she knew, the overwhelming majority of the discussion still would have revolved around how they would react to a regime change should the worst come to pass. The general consensus seemed to be that they would follow their archmage’s lead.

In hindsight, Princess Celestia had obviously been preparing for this since Twilight first ascended to power. She’d given her hoofpicked archmage, her first student in centuries, more and more of her own power. The Royal Guard had fallen into line from the start, and eventually the EIS had gotten the message as well. Archmage Twilight Sparkle, clearly, was meant to rule in her stead in all but name.

As Incog droned on with matters of policy going forward that, however boring, needed to be covered, Sweetie Drops found her thoughts drifting south to the sprawling Everfree Forest.

Stay safe, Lyra.





It was time.

Apple Bloom had slept late into the afternoon to have the energy to be awake all night as most ponies did just before the solstice. The party lasted until sunrise, after all. But this year she’d have to skip out on attending the Summer Sun Celebration. She had better places to be.

As such, Apple Bloom trekked her way through the Everfree to Zecora’s home. Every door and window was locked. Most likely, she’d headed into town to enjoy the festivities, and that suited Apple Bloom just fine. She grabbed a spare key from beneath a nearby rock and made her way inside.

Downstairs in the secret sub-basement, Apple Bloom found the caged timberwolf just as she’d left it. It took some doing, but she managed to safely snap a twig off of it for her own use and put it in a jar. She didn’t think she would need it, but better to be safe than dead. Once that was secured, she wrestled free another bit of wood and ate it now. That would get her through the Everfree. Now all she needed was Scootaloo.

That proved more difficult than expected. Scootaloo wasn’t anywhere in the sky – always the first place to look for a pegasus to avoid a long, embarrassing, frustrating, and fruitless task that could have been easily avoided – at the orphanage, the ruins of their clubhouse, or any of her usual haunts. That left Apple Bloom needing to search for her amongst the densely packed crowds of the festival, something she’d vainly hoped to avoid.

Strangely enough, Trixie was in town, on stage, and putting on a show greater than all of her prior ones put together. She should be at the castle in the Everfree preparing to face Princess Luna. Apple Bloom would have gone up to her and made a fuss, but after yesterday, who knew if the pony on stage was even the real her? Maybe she could be in two places at once like Archmage Twilight.

Apple Bloom, after wasting time watching an entire iteration of Trixie’s performance, went back to her search. In the end, she found Scootaloo in perhaps the most predictable place possible. Rainbow Dash had apparently made it back to town and had occupied herself with performing tricks for her adoring audience, Scootaloo amongst them.

It wasn’t without protest when Apple Bloom dragged her friend out of the crowd, but she got the job done. Once they were alone enough not to be heard above the tumult of thousands of ponies, more than reasonably fit in Ponyville, all doing their own thing, she said, “I know where Sweetie Belle is gonna confront Princess Luna.”

Scootaloo’s eyes immediately sharpened from annoyed to serious. “Where?”

“There’s an old castle in the Everfree. Princess Celestia said it used to be the capital of Equestria.”

“Huh. That makes–” Realization set in, and Scootaloo’s eyes widened. “Wait, you met the princess!”

Apple Bloom shushed her and said, “Focus, Scoots. Sweetie Belle. Moon princess. Tonight.”

“Right. Right.” Scootaloo wore an appropriately chastised look and then redeemed herself by immediately asking, “How are we going to get there? I mean, I can move through the forest no problem, but you…”

“Don’t worry,” Apple Bloom replied, “I’ve got it covered. I’ll get us both there.”





It was time.

More than that, it was strange being back in Canterlot. Spike had spent a good four weeks in the Frozen North with the bearers and getting caught up in their shenanigans. He’d participated in the greatest snowball fight in history, watched Twilight and Trixie level a good chunk of land, helped in the attempt to save Princess Celestia from her angry sister, and even traveled to another universe!

Now what did he do?

Twilight might not like her adventures because they took away from her research time, but now that he’d had a taste, how could he just sit here and play foals’ games with Flurry and Ocellus? It was fun, sure. They were fun. But in comparison? Maybe it was time to start thinking about how to convince Twilight he was old enough to start helping with her work beyond as a simple assistant.

“You look like you’re thinking deep thoughts there.”

Spike jumped in surprise. “Aunt Cadance? Aren’t you supposed to be at the festival?” Just because the main site had moved to Ponyville this year didn’t mean Canterlot had forgone the celebration. Cadance usually organized such things locally when Princess Celestia and Twilight were out of town.

“They’re better off without me,” Cadance replied dismissively. “If I need to step up and sit on the throne for a few minutes, it’s no secret where I am. Otherwise, I’m more hindrance than help right now.”

That told Spike basically everything he needed to know. “Mom will be fine. When has she ever not been?”

“Hey, that’s my line! I’m the responsible adult here, I’ll have you know.” Cadance even spread her wings in mock indignation.

Spike smirked.

A few moments later, Cadance abandoned her act and sighed. “You’re not wrong. She’s resourceful. And the pony who throws herself into harm’s way, not the pony in danger. I’m far more worried Auntie won’t be coming home.”

Yeah, there was that. Spike couldn’t say he knew which way the cards were going to fall either.

“Anyway,” Cadance sighed before she forced a thin smile back onto her face. “The fillies want to send a letter to Sweetie Belle to wish her luck. Your mother, too, but it’s probably best not to disturb her.”

That was a massive understatement. Spike was fairly certain he’d seen her making a checklist this morning before she’d sent him off. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have a relapse. As far as he knew, she’d been clean for years.





It was time.

There was so much to do to prepare for Luna’s imminent arrival. Twilight had no time to spare for anything except checking off the boxes on the list. Her OCDs had openly gotten the better of her for the first time in years, and for that reason alone, she was glad she’d already checked off the ‘send Spike home’ item. She didn’t need his snarky comments.

Trixie would take care of herself. She was probably performing in Ponyville, and that was probably for the best. That gave her less of a chance to brood and get cold hooves.

Lyra had already left with Bon Bon. Twilight had considered asking the latter to watch over the foals in Canterlot but had ultimately decided against it. They had plenty of protection already.

Flash would jump over to the Old Castle after taking care of a few things in Canterlot.

That left Pinkie Pie and Sweetie Belle both in need of a lift. The former could make the journey herself somehow. Twilight had no doubt about that. But the less variables involved in this operation, the better.

Those two both needed a polymorph, too, just in case things went horribly wrong. There was no need to risk their real bodies when such simple preventative measures were available. Flash had one already to deal with his broken wing, and Trixie and Lyra could take care of themselves.

Thus Twilight tracked down the mare in question and, after a quick bit of magic, asked, “Pinkie Pie, my seer, what can you tell me about the future?” The answer, she found, proved less than useful.

“Somepony I know is going to get their cutie mark!”

Twilight rolled her eyes. Pinkie Pie knew hundreds of ponies, if not thousands. Even if the information were relevant, which it was not, it hardly told her anything useful. She made a parting request to keep her informed if any data about tonight’s confrontation cropped up and then went back to her other tasks with one more box on her list checked.

What else did she have to do? Twilight had already sent a request for backup to Moon Dancer. If she managed to push Luna into the human world, that would prove useful. She needed to recharge the mirror’s battery.

That took her less than a minute.

She also needed to get the mirror to the Old Castle, but that was just one more passenger.

Sunset had blocked incoming mail, probably from everyone but at the very least from her. She went ahead and tried to send another request for assistance anyway, long shot that it was even if it got through, and only received the same disappointing results. The magic failed to latch on to Sunset’s own. Thus was she left with nothing but a pile of ash.

At any rate, that meant she needed to find a replacement to wield the mirror. She’d asked Moon Dancer to bring Tempest for that very reason just in case, so she supposed that would work itself out if Sunset kept being difficult. Worse case scenario, she could just have Moon Dancer do it. All the task really required was dropping the mirror on top of Luna while she was distracted with reveling in her victory if the Elements didn’t do anything useful.

Then again, maybe Shining would be a better pick for that. It might be better to have somepony combat capable in charge of it in case the first attempt failed. Twilight would really much rather have him waiting with a contingent of guards on the other side to pounce on Luna immediately. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them to do their job unsupervised, but this operation was kind of incredibly important, the sort of thing she would normally see to personally. Worse, they all still needed to learn how to walk on two legs. She’d have to think about this some more.

And this was, of course, all predicated upon the idea that Sparky wouldn’t stab them in the back. Sunny wasn’t around right now to interfere on Luna’s behalf, but even just an evening spent chatting with Sparky was enough to tell how close those two were. It kind of made Twilight jealous, in all honesty, for how much she’d missed out on with her own Sunset.

Now that was a weird feeling she’d need to sort out some other time.

Other than that, she supposed she should probably have a quick chat with Mayor Mare to make sure the Summer Sun Celebration hadn’t caught fire or something. That would be more or less in line with the very mixed luck she’d experienced since leaving Canterlot and the weirdness Ponyville attracted. It was on her list, at any rate, so that meant she had to do it if she wanted to gaze upon a beautiful, completed column of boxes at the end of the day.

And she did. Obviously. Who wouldn’t?

Twilight tried one last time to send Sunset a letter, felt the magic fizzle, and gave up. After tracking down Sweetie Belle and Pinkie Pie, she grabbed ahold of the crystal mirror, some spare solidified magic just in case, and then teleported them out of her lab.





It was time.

As much as she tried, she couldn’t hide her distraction. She was quite simply too worried about Sweetie Belle and Twilight. Her companion had long since noticed her state of distress, of course, but had politely declined to comment. However, this time she’d surely made too much of a spectacle of herself.

“I’m sorry, Fleur, dear. What was it you said?”

And sure enough, Fleur sent a silent stare Rarity’s way that seemed to say so much all at once. “I was asking what you thought of Princess Celestia’s announcement a few days ago.”

“Oh, yes. Quite a surprise to learn she has a sister. Princess Luna, I believe it was?”

“Indeed,” Fleur said. “Normally something you would be happy to discuss with me unto the end of time, surely.” There came that knowing look once more. “What has you so preoccupied this evening? Is she old news to you?”

Rarity shook her head. “No, of course not.”

“Then is the festival itself not to your liking? Ponyville, I think, has done surprisingly well for itself, has it not?”

“No, no,” Rarity replied reassuringly. “It has. It’s marvelous, really. I just…” What could she say without parting with secrets not her own? “There is a matter of some great import about to occur. And do forgive me, but I can say no more on the subject.”

Naturally, no pony of Fleur’s wit or position would fail to connect this information to what she already knew about who it came from. Rarity could see it in her eyes. Nonetheless, rather than pressing the matter, she offered a small nod of acceptance. “Well then, shall we see if there’s some entertainment nearby which might distract you with the here and now? You mentioned having played a part in the decorations at town hall, I believe. Show me them?”

“Ah.” Yes, she had said something to that effect, hadn’t she? It’d been somewhat of a last minute thing since Pinkie currently had more important things to occupy her time. Rarity pulled her gaze away from where it’d drifted over Fleur’s shoulder to the Everfree. “Of course. It’s right this way.”

As they departed, Rarity found her eyes drawn one last time toward the forest. She breathed deep and did her best to focus on who was currently with her. She did, however, allow herself a parting remark.

Sweetie Belle, I doubt you can hear me at this moment, but do take care of yourself. If Twilight is there, remind her that she simply must return you to me unharmed. She’ll answer to me if she doesn’t.





As much as she wished she could say otherwise, a dozen earth ponies parachuting into the Old Castle from the skies far, far above the Everfree was not the strangest sight Twilight had ever seen. Pinkie Pie, somewhat surprisingly, hadn’t quite taken that coveted award yet, but she had a feeling it was only a matter of time there.

Regardless, with Magic atop her brow, Twilight flew out of the castle to go collect her reinforcements from the Royal Guard. The wild wind over the Everfree had blown most of them pretty far off target. One of them, as it turned out, was Moon Dancer. Given the unusual arrival, she’d expected that, but it did leave her with two important questions.

“Where is Celestia?” Twilight asked as she popped another guard off to the Old Castle. “And why didn’t she just teleport you here?” And on second thought, she had a third question. “Actually, did I miss anypony?”

Moon Dancer nodded. “There’s one more not far from here.” After first reorienting herself against the castle just visible in the distance, she swept her hoof out in a vaguely northward direction. “That way, I think.”

And they set off. Anypony this close to the Old Castle could make their way there safely on their own, Twilight was sure, but it would put her mind slightly more at ease to just pick them all up. It barely qualified as anything more taxing than busywork anyway.

As they walked, Moon Dancer answered Twilight’s other question. “I’m not sure where Princess Celestia is. I haven’t seen her since last evening.”

That complicated matters somewhat, but Twilight could work around her absence. She’d only been meant to provide power to the mirror if the Elements failed and they missed the first attempt. This might even be for the best. If she were here, Twilight would have to wrestle with distracting feelings of guilt that she didn’t have the time for. And now she was thinking about how she’d lied through her teeth to Celestia’s face, and–

No. Not right now. You can feel like worthless garbage later.

And just to make things even more complicated, Moon Dancer continued, “I don’t know where your brother is, either, but I sent out a recall order to him. Tempest and Starlight are also out dealing with a major problem at sea.”

Of course they were.

Where else would they be?

Twilight screamed her frustration to the heavens.

And then, just because she clearly needed one more thing to deal with, Twilight spotted a bit of orange, a splash of yellow, and a big red bow moving through the forest in haste.





This was not the day Scootaloo had expected to have. Sure, she’d kind of always wanted to go traipsing through the Everfree for the thrill of it, but when the alternative was free food and entertainment back at home, it lost some of the appeal. She was pretty sure she’d be having nightmares for a while, too, after some huge, ugly flower had tried to eat her.

But Apple Bloom was as good as her word. They’d made it. They’d spotted the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters in the distance not too long ago. Moreover, they’d have to be blind and deaf not to notice all the activity going on here. Ponies were parachuting in from the sky – the Crusaders would have to try that later – the archmage had sprouted butterfly wings to fly about despite being in the Everfree, and plenty of light sources lit up the fading evening light within the castle.

And all of this came with one really big problem. Apple Bloom led Scootaloo to a bush with plenty of room inside it to hide themselves. Concealed, they turned their attention to their final task.

“So how are we going to get in without getting caught?” Scootaloo pushed a branch down just far enough to let her see the castle up ahead. A couple of guards had taken up a post at the gate, and she caught the occasional glimpse of a few more patrolling. More kept showing up as the archmage teleported them in, too, so time was a factor.

“I don’t know. I didn’t expect guards.”

Scootaloo hadn’t either. “We crossed a river to get here a little ways back. I could try to make a fog cover.”

“Nah, the archmage would just blow it away.”

Since said archmage had apparently figured out how to perform magic in the Everfree, Scootaloo conceded the point. “If we think really, really hard, maybe Sweetie Belle could hear us?”

Apple Bloom shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”

It didn’t work.

“Okay, new plan,” Apple Bloom said. “Trixie is in Ponyville right now, so there should only be two ponies in there who can send us away easily. If we kick up enough fuss, either Sweetie Belle will find us or Princess Celestia or Archmage Twilight will show up to send us home. They’ll let us talk to her if we ask nicely.”

“Are you kidding me? If they don’t just have somepony escort us out, they’ll take one look at us and magic us back to Ponyville.” Even if she hadn’t wanted to, Scootaloo had heard all the stories about the archmage from Sweetie Belle. And the princess was supposed to be crazy stronger than even her!

Apple Bloom shook her head, rustling the bush in the process as little twigs got caught in her mane. Such was one of many reasons why short styles like Scootaloo’s own were far superior to bold adventurers such as them. Apple Bloom muttered curses as she freed herself but still managed to get out, “They’ll listen. They’re nice,” in the process.

“You say that as though you know them.”

A moment passed. Scootaloo’s eyes shifted to her friend standing beside her.

“Oh, hay!” The words came with a little stomp of Apple Bloom’s hoof. “I knew there was something I was forgetting.”

“Wait, you’ve met both of them!” Scootaloo asked perhaps a bit too loudly. “And you didn’t tell me?”

Apple Bloom said, “It was only recently,” in her own defense. “Things have been complicated, okay? But it turns out Index was the archmage in disguise all along.”

Index was… But that means… Scootaloo’s mind was blown. “That’s awesome!” she breathed.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyhow, Crusaders charge forward?”

Once Scootaloo finally snapped out of her daze, she stretched and cracked the bones in her legs. “Totally. You ready?”

“Ready as a spring hare.”

They counted down from three and then burst out from the bush at a full gallop. Apple Bloom winced in pain but kept moving. Apparently, whatever she’d done that let her wander the Everfree didn’t protect her if her magic started acting up. But that was all the more reason to get to the safety of the castle as soon as possible.

A cry of frustration erupted from some distance away, oddly enough, but they paid it no mind. The pair crashed out of the woods side by side and pressed themselves even harder as they cleared the open ground between the forest’s edge and the castle gate. The guards stationed there moved to bar the way with their bodies. But they thought they were dealing with regular foals! The Crusaders had made it through tougher challenges than a pair of adults who weren’t taking them seriously.

But a grumpy archmage was another story entirely. She, wearing a crown of all things, poofed into existence in front of their charge without warning and picked them up with her magic, leaving their legs flailing back and forth uselessly in the air.

Oh, that’s just unfair.

Scootaloo would have tried escaping with her wings, but this was technically what they’d wanted, so mission accomplished, she supposed.

The archmage leveled a firm glare at the both of them. It then shifted to Apple Bloom in particular. “I’m not even going to ask how you got here. I expect this of you three by now.”

Wasn’t that actually a really big compliment coming from an archmage? Scootaloo couldn’t help but grin even though she knew it wouldn’t help their case. And then she registered that the archmage had said three, not two. She shifted to look past the mare and the guards behind her and spotted a tuft of pink and purple headed their way at a gallop from deeper within the castle.

With a sigh, the archmage unceremoniously dropped them back onto their hooves. “Sweetie Belle,” she began as their missing Crusader drew near.

Sweetie Belle almost ignored the archmage and leapt into a group hug. Scootaloo could tell. She’d seen that look before. But instead Sweetie Belle settled for a wide grin and a wave for the moment.

“Keep your friends out of trouble and they can stay for now. Absolutely no crusading tonight. Understood?”

Without hesitation, Sweetie Belle so promised.

“Good.” And with that out of the way, Archmage Twilight turned her attention back to the other Crusaders. She offered an exasperated sigh to Apple Bloom rather than any proper greeting, and then her gaze fell onto Scootaloo. “I don’t believe we’ve met yet. Once everything is settled, we’ll have to fix that. For now, however, I have other matters to attend to. I’ll be in the throne room if you need me.”

The archmage then teleported away without a word of warning.

Seeing the looks on their faces, or perhaps just reading Scootaloo’s mind in particular, Sweetie Belle said, “Yeah, she does that. But come here! It’s been so long!”

All three Crusaders, reunited, came together in a group hug.

An unknowable time later, they finally broke apart. Sweetie Belle was the first to break the silence, and by how quickly and enthusiastically she spoke, she had a lot to say.

“Oh, I have so much to tell you two! So much has happened while I’ve been away. I found out that Index was actually Archmage Twilight!” Sweetie Belle squeed at that, apparently still not over it, and danced excitedly in place on her hooves.

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo chorused, “We know,” not that Sweetie Belle even heard them.

“I met Spike and even got to see him grow wings. I fought a great snowball war in the Frozen North. I went to a movie night in Canterlot with the royal family. I met Archmage Twilight’s secret first mentor. Oh, and I got an up-close view of a battle between two of the greatest sorceresses in the world! That was, well, a bit of a mess, but it worked out in the end. Oh, oh, oh! And! And I got to go to another universe!”

What? “Another universe?” Was Sweetie Belle serious? And why did Apple Bloom look like that wasn’t a huge surprise? Did she already know?

“Apple Bloom, you would have loved it there. Their whole society is structured around electricity. Magic is new to them, you see. They have these strange devices called computers that are kind of like illusions spells that perform a lot of automatic number crunching to play films and music and–” Sweetie Belle had to stop to suck in some fresh air.

Finally. Scootaloo had begun to wonder if Sweetie Belle had learned how to not need to breathe from the archmage.

Meanwhile, Apple Bloom got that look in her eye when she had a brilliant idea. “How do I get there?” she asked.

“Oh, there’s this crystal mirror. We brought it with us, actually. You just walk right through. The portal takes a lot of magic to force open, but that hasn’t been the barrier one might expect.”

“Hey,” Scootaloo said. She gave Apple Bloom a bit of a shove to knock her out of whatever path her thoughts had been headed down. “Don’t do anything not awesome.”

It was one serious glare Apple Bloom sent Scootaloo in return. She cooled off quickly, of course, but it was plain there was something going on there. And Sweetie Belle had noticed too, obviously. With that necklace of hers, she could hardly miss it. She wore a conflicted look that Apple Bloom missed entirely and managed to school her expression before that could change. Neither said a word more about whatever all that was, leaving Scootaloo to guess on her own.

Instead, Sweetie Belle elaborated on some of the more memorable events of her last few weeks. Despite the festival, Ponyville hadn’t changed much, so she ended up doing most of the talking.

Eventually, a letter from Spike, Flurry, and Ocellus arrived and interrupted them.





Flash could hardly claim to be an expert or of much use, but they had nopony better qualified to teach quadrupeds how to move on two legs. Things were proceeding as well as he could expect, to be honest. His students wobbled as they moved about, a bad look for any member of the Royal Guard, but at least they’d developed a good enough sense of balance to not fall over. In another hour or two, they could probably manage to reliably sprint across a room, which was all they needed. The plan was to dog-pile atop Princess Luna if she came through the portal. Simple and effective. Their sheer weight would hold her in place until somepony drugged her.

Observing from one of her desks was the other Twilight Sparkle. Twilight had taken to calling her Sparky, and most everyone else had as well. She sat with her legs curled up atop a swivel chair, gently rotating herself from side to side as one hand and then the other came into contact with her desk. The other Sunset Shimmer, who had apparently not become an infamous criminal in this world but rather a world-renowned scientist, was somewhere in Equestria doing only Celestia knew what.

“Hey,” Sparky said, drawing Flash’s attention away from what could generously be called his fellow guards’ training. “I got the impression Sparkles doesn’t like you. Any particular reason? You seem nice enough.”

This hardly seemed like the time to go down that rabbit hole, but Flash couldn’t stop himself from letting out a rueful chuckle. “If only I could get the other you to see that.”

“Oh.” By the flat tone, Sparky understood the situation from just that alone. “You’re trying to get under her skirt.” She folded her arms. “That’s not going to work.”

That wasn’t exactly what he was trying to do, but curious now, Flash turned his full attention onto Sparky with a questioning look. It was very fortunate that human expressions were remarkably similar to pony ones.

“I had a very…limited interest in friendship until after I met Sunny. Relationships?” Sparky scoffed. “The result of a biological imperative I don’t have.”

“What changed?” Flash assumed something had from her tone.

“I learned to decouple sex and romance in my head. Romance for me is like…friendship plus plus.”

There was almost certainly a cultural reference in there that had gone right over Flash’s head, but he got the gist of Sparky’s meaning. “So I should be her friend?” He’d been doing that. Every time they spoke, despite that, she still looked like she was forcing herself to give him the time of day.

Sparky shook her head. “No, you should give up.” When Flash went to protest, she held up a hand. A moment later, she lowered all but two fingers. “You have two massive barriers to overcome. She’s like Athena. She has no time for Aphrodite’s shenanigans.”

“Who and who?”

“Right,” Sparky mumbled. “You have a literal sun goddess. No cultural analogue.” Her vague musings, increasingly indistinct, eventually coalesced into, “Basically, romantic love is a waste of her time. From what I can tell, she’s only just coming around to the idea of friendship. Love? Why bother? Believe me, she’s perfectly happy alone. People can do that. That’s a thing. Moreover, she seems even busier than I am. When do you think she’ll have the time to do otherwise? Relationships don’t just happen.”

As much as Flash hated to admit it, Sparky had a point. Part of what he admired most about Twilight was how she made the best of not just every day but every moment. No second went to waste around her. She was always in motion, figuratively speaking, far beyond what should be equinely possible.

And that, however contradictory, was also a large part of what Flash felt he could offer her. She needed help to learn how to slow down from time to time, to find the ability to unwind, relax, and just take comfort in the moment. The opportunity to really get to know her had only reinforced that notion. Even with ponies she actively liked, she didn’t seem to know how to just hang out. She always had to be doing something or, as Sparky had put it, she felt like she was wasting her time. But he could show her a better way.

“Beyond that,” Sparky continued, “our worlds are parallel, and, well…”

“You had no idea who I am,” Flash finished for her, saving her the trouble.

“Bluntly put. But yes.”

That didn’t make it impossible. There were irreconcilable differences between their worlds, and it wasn’t like Twilight had really known who he was until a few weeks ago either.

“So what’s the other problem?” Flash bit out more sharply than he’d intended. “She knows I exist now.”

“Well,” Sparky, unfazed, began, “that’s the thing. Even if she develops an interest, she’s going to go looking for love amongst those closest to her. If she doesn’t find somepony, she’s not going to broaden her search. As this pertains to you, she has you marked, justly or not, as a time waster. That’s not going to change so long as you keep reinforcing it with even the littlest things. And so long as it lasts, she’s going to keep you at arm’s length. Honestly, the only winning move you can make is not to play.”

Flash grit his teeth as Sparky went on. He’d heard words similar enough plenty of times from plenty of ponies. Not that they’d ever before come from so authoritative a source.

“And I mean that both as a warning against wasting your own time and as genuine advice to get her to let you in.”

Such contradictory advice was as far from helpful as possible. They shouldn’t even be talking about this. The last thing Flash needed right now was a broken heart to nurse just when they needed the Elements to work, and that seemed to be all this Twilight Sparkle had to offer him.

Fortunately, the genuine article chose this moment to fire up the portal and step through. Captain Armor had finally turned up and followed right behind her. After that, Sparky seemed too distracted with meeting the Equestrian version of her brother to bother with Flash again.





Twilight glared at her checklist. Several boxes weren’t checked and wouldn’t be checked, and all of them taunted her with those facts. She felt her eye twitch at the sight. How dare it mock her like this! She’d teach it what happened to those who so disrespected her.

The checklist burst into flames. It burned hot and bright far above its ignition temperature until nothing but ashes remained.

That would show it!

A heavy breath, one held far too long, escaped Twilight, and she felt just the slightest bit of her stress go with it. Right. Well, that was a marginally better resolution to how I used to react to unfinished checklists.

“Twilight.”

The mare in question silently begged that this would not be more problems.

“I finished checking the spellwork Princess Celestia laid here.” Moon Dancer passed off the documentation for all of the magical traps that would, with any luck, hold Luna in place just long enough for them to blast her with the Elements. “At a glance, I don’t think she’s added anything behind our backs.”

That was good news for once. Twilight had worried. She didn’t entirely trust Celestia to look after her own well-being right now. A little self-sabotage wouldn’t be beyond question.

“Thank you,” Twilight said from the bottom of her heart. “I know bug hunting isn’t fun or glorious, but I really needed somepony competent and trustworthy to do it.”

Moon Dancer offered a thin smile in return. “It was no trouble,” she said. “I have nothing better to do. I’m not exactly here as a combatant, you know.”

“Yeah, about that.”

Naturally, such words immediately had Moon Dancer on her guard.

“I was kind of counting on Celestia to show up at some point. Obviously, she hasn’t. I brought some extra solidified magic just in case to power the portal if it needs more juice, and I need somepony to be in charge of feeding that magic to it.”

Moon Dancer wore a distinct frown as she asked, “Weren’t you going to pull your brother back from the human world to wield the mirror.”

“Yes, but he’s going to be preoccupied with getting Luna through it. It’s kind of a two pony job. The mirror wasn’t meant to be used as an improvised weapon.”

“Then…I suppose that’s fine,” Moon Dancer replied. “You’ll need to teach me how, though. It’s obvious that thing you built around it is a custom job.”

Twilight did her best to fight down a chagrined chuckle. “Yes. Quite.” She faked a cough. “It’s fairly simple, really, once you–”

A wave of unbelievable power crashed against Twilight’s horn and left her gasping for air. The only time she’d felt anything even close to it was when Celestia had teleported her to the moon and back. Her eyes snapped to the clock she’d set up and enlarged to keep track of time. They should still have over an hour left! Their deadline was supposed to be midnight!

But there was no denying the truth.

Luna was early.
> Chapter Twenty Eight - The Solstice (Part Two)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

She hesitated to call this penance, but it needed to be done no matter how much it hurt to dredge up memories which were, in all honesty, better off not forgotten. She owed that much at least to the world even if nopony else ever read her journals.





Twilight was the first to snap back into action. Her eyes took in the scattered bearers around her. Flash had crumpled to his knees. Trixie wasn’t even in the room. Lyra looked spell shocked just from Luna’s unrestrained magical aura. Sweetie Belle had placed herself in front of the Crusaders. Pinkie Pie was…moving to help Lyra and make herself useful? Perfect!

But they weren’t ready. They’d been caught off guard.

Twilight would just have to be ready enough for all of them.

She spared no time to witness Luna manifest for the first time in a millennium nor to ensure the traps were working as intended. She hardly needed to. The hurricane of magic from Luna tearing them to pieces with sheer brute force was hard to mistake.

No, instead Twilight flew into action. She teleported Sweetie Belle over to Lyra and Pinkie Pie. She couldn’t interrupt the latter two if she wanted a chance to use the Elements, so there they would gather.

At the same time, Twilight hit Flash with a lightning fast but poorly controlled burst of her telekinesis to get his attention. It was enough to stagger him, but it got the job done. She thrust a hoof up at the trio of bearers already gathered and hoped he could figure out the rest. Thankfully, he did. Loyalty got him into place in a blink.

That just left Trixie. Twilight had no idea where she was beyond ‘nearby’. By the time anypony could hunt her down, Luna would have already long since won. She could only hope Trixie showed up in the next one or two seconds.

Twilight swore under her breath. That wasn’t realistic. She had to activate contingency plans instead.

Reaching out with her magic, Twilight dispelled several of the timing mechanisms governing the traps for Luna. That would resequence the entire system to play out at a slower rate, but it came at a cost. It ran the risk of Luna finding a way out early. Without overwhelming her with spells from every direction meant to put her down long enough to secure, she could slip out of the net.

Hopefully, she wouldn’t notice the change.

At almost the same time Twilight teleported herself into place beside the other bearers, Trixie reappeared. She froze up, however, when her eyes landed on her old mentor. There was pain there but also joy and concern, and then her face twisted into some mixed expression Twilight couldn’t read.

Moon Dancer rolled high on initiative. For all her vast knowledge and skill, she wasn’t a fast spellcaster. Instead of teleporting or choosing some other more expeditious course of action, she rushed up to Trixie on hoof. She shook the mare, said something with clear urgency, and pointed toward the rest of the bearers.

It was all precious moments wasted.

Even so, Trixie got the message. Her eyes lingered on Luna for a few fractions of a second longer before she teleported into place and completed the set.

“Laughter!” Twilight hissed.

An instant later, Trixie summoned it to her.

They were ready, and just in time. The traps had nearly run out of steam.

“Now!” It was all the instruction for which Twilight had time to spare.

Even so, it was enough.

Twilight reached out for the other bearers through Magic, and they responded one after another. The Elements shone with power, raw unimaginable power Twilight had only ever had under her marginal control once before. It swelled between the bearers, cycling properly this time now that all six of them were together.

Yet flaws remained. So intimately connected to her fellow bearers, Twilight could feel the problems.

Lyra was barely functional in the middle of a PTSD episode.

Something had upset Flash recently.

Trixie was reluctant.

As a whole, they might be called a clique. Pairwise, fewer of them were friends.

But it was better than last time. It was still power overwhelming. It would have to be enough.

Twilight took the energy she did have at her disposal, concentrated it, imbued it as best as she could with her intention to take away Luna’s anger, and directed it straight at her friend.

One of her closest friends.

Oh.

Oh no!

Twilight wordlessly begged Magic not to pull its punch just because she’d flinched.

The magic she’d unleashed, whatever it intended to do, flew straight toward Luna. Last time, it’d taken the visible form of a chaotic blend of every color of the rainbow. This time it had far more coherency. Would that make it more effective? Was it just because Kindness had taken part in forming it this time?

Twilight gnawed at her lip as she watched the rainbow carve its way through the few remaining traps as if they weren’t even there. Luna stood right in its path, unmoving.

This was going to work.

This was really going to work!

Luna smacked the rainbow into the ground with a hoof.

Twilight gaped at the sight.

What?

She’s part earth pony. She can channel magic like that.

That’s ridiculous!

That’s probably the point.

The thoughts flew by in an instant. Then the backlash from whatever Luna had done hit her. A scream ripped its way out of Twilight’s mouth as an alien pain certainly not biological surged through her. Somehow, she retained just enough command over the Elements to prevent it from spreading to the others.

But there yet remained an enormous amount of built up magic that Twilight couldn’t control anymore. When the Elements failed, it burst out of the conduits of power they’d constructed all at once. The resulting explosion of magic sent the bearers flying radially outward from their center.

At the head of the group, that sent Twilight rocketing toward Luna and catching both of them by surprise.

She took her chance.

Twilight focused power into her horn. It hurt. It hurt just like when she’d contaminated her own magic. But she pushed through both the searing pain and the exhaustion that accompanied using the Elements to fire off a rudimentary sleep spell.

Eyes wide, Luna just barely managed to throw an uncontrolled burst of magic at the spell to disrupt it before Twilight crashed into her. Twilight almost blacked out from the impact alone, but it was too much to hope that Luna had as well. She was, after all, as physically sturdy as any earth pony.

That didn’t stop the pair from tumbling end over end across the floor through the throne room of the Old Castle, however. Despite everything, Luna grabbed hold of Twilight and took the hit first just before they slammed into the wall.

It helped.

Twilight swallowed another scream when she felt one of her legs bend the wrong way against the ground. She had a polymorph active. She’d be fine. Everypony would be fine. Everypony was prepared for this sort of worst-case scenario. Even Luna would regenerate quickly. They would all be fine.

An ominous scraping filled the air.

That was the sound of stone against stone, wasn’t it?

They’d hit the already crumbling wall of this ruin of a castle fairly hard, hadn’t they? Well, at least the throne room had lost some of its roof in the original battle between Luna and Celestia. This would hurt that much less.

Then came the rumbling of bricks falling, just as Twilight had expected. Perfect. This was just what she needed.

That was, of course, sarcasm. If the mere thought of casting another spell didn’t make her nauseous, it might not have been. Perhaps she could have knocked Luna out magically, but that option was beyond her. She had an alicorn-grade tranquilizer in her bag of holding, but that had the same problem. There was no way she’d be able to manage the magical coordination necessary to even withdraw it right now, let alone use it. She could try to strangle Luna until she passed out, but as they’d already established, alicorns were part earth pony. That wouldn’t work.

The only real chance they had left was to surprise Luna with the crystal mirror.

And so Twilight affected a defeated sigh. “Thanks for the catch,” she said just before the castle brickwork fell on top of them.





As the throne room crumbled, Moon Dancer barely had the time to urge the uninvolved foals in the room to gather around her. She cast a hasty, domed shield to protect them, and it only just held against one of the throne room’s great columns falling on top of them.

Slowly, the dust settled. At the far end of the hall, Princess Luna became the first to emerge from beneath the rubble. She threw aside the stone with barely a flex of the power at her disposal. And now that Moon Dancer had the chance to really take her in, it was Princess Luna, not Nightmare Moon. Princess Celestia had told the whole world that her sister was coming home without ever once mentioning the mare’s evil alter ego, but anypony who’d paid close enough attention could tell she’d replied to almost every question about the details with a careful nonanswer or a misleading truth.

Apparently, there’d been something to Princess Celestia’s unrelenting confidence that it would in fact be her sister who came back to Equestria.

Princess Luna pulled the bloody, broken mess that was Twilight out after her. Moon Dancer’s heart leapt into her throat at the sight, at least up until the princess dispelled Twilight’s polymorph and returned her to good health.

Oh. Right. Moon Dancer had forgotten for a moment that nopony here could die so easily. But they did need to dig everypony out quickly. If left in this state for too long, their magic might disperse. If that happened, there would be no saving them.

Moon Dancer immediately set to the task. She recalled where Flash had crashed and scryed for him underneath the crushing weight of the stone. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but she teleported him out to safety and restored him fully to life. He thanked her for the assistance once he stirred, but there was something wrong.

“Why is your wing still broken?” Had Moon Dancer done something incorrectly when she’d dispelled his polymorph?

“Ah, it was already like that,” Flash replied, setting Moon Dancer at ease. “I got caught up in the whole Eclipse affair at the castle.”

Meanwhile, the two fillies had managed to find their friend. Sweetie Belle had gotten somewhat lucky. The wall she’d hit had given way and let her fly through right into the branches of a tree outside. It still must have hurt terribly, and she was covered in tree sap, but she was in one piece.

On the other side of what once was the throne room, Pinkie Pie had apparently managed to rescue herself. She made her way over to Twilight to offer a shoulder to lean on, and Twilight certainly looked like she needed it. Physically, she seemed well and whole, but the expression on her face made it clear that just staying conscious remained a struggle.

With Flash helpfully pointing her position out, Princess Luna pulled Trixie from the rubble. The moment their eyes truly met was almost painfully awkward to watch. The princess offered her a small smile, but she only looked away. Moon Dancer wondered what the story was there.

After that, Flash directed the group to Lyra Heartstrings. Before Princess Luna could unearth her, Twilight gestured for the princess to lean closer. She whispered something that even Pinkie Pie, the pony helping her stand upright, probably couldn’t overhear into Princess Luna’s ear.

“Truly?” No small amount of surprise filled Princess Luna’s voice, and Twilight, of course, nodded. “I recall what you told me about her, but I didn’t expect that. Such interesting company you keep.”

So there were even more secrets, it seemed. Twilight and Princess Luna somehow knew one another, apparently. Moreover, whatever Twilight had revealed led the princess to free up some space underneath the rubble around Lyra Heartstrings rather than simply remove her from it. Princess Luna only then dispelled her polymorph, which Moon Dancer assumed meant she had a secret identity that she wanted to remain secret.

Moon Dancer resisted the urge to peek with a bit of divination magic.

It took a little while after that before the mare herself popped out from beneath the pile of stone and rejoined the group, although that didn’t last very long. Lyra Heartstrings shrank under the weight of Princess Luna’s curious eyes. “I, uh… Twilight, I’m just gonna go get some fresh air, if that’s okay?” She barely waited for an answer before she fled the room at a canter.

Without a word, Trixie spun on her hooves and followed after at a far more casual pace.

Well, that happened.

Princess Luna let out a little sigh at Trixie’s departure, one more seen than heard. Soon enough, however, she pushed that strange melancholy aside and turned to Twilight with some as yet unspoken purpose. The two struck quite a sight.

On the left stood the victorious princess. She looked every bit as regal as her elder sister, if quite a bit shorter. Her ethereal mane, a sea of stars easily mistaken for the night sky, flowed about her in an unfelt wind without a crown to weigh her down. She wore an obsidian suit of armor that made her look every bit the warrior she was. She wanted only for a helmet and a weapon to complete the image .

On the right, the defiant archmage hung from her friend’s shoulders with narrowed eyes. She’d not yet conceded defeat and would struggle to come out on top until the last chance for victory finally slipped away. Between the two, she wore the crown. Anypony who had seen her fully armed for battle could only imagine what had brought her to this state.

Moon Dancer shook herself from such romantic notions. Real life was nothing like her adventures stories. After the past two moons, if she wasn’t careful, she’d get it into her head that she could go on them herself.

“Archmage Twilight Sparkle,” Princess Luna said, her voice regal and her tone formal. “Our bargain?”

A bargain? Twilight has been making deals with the enemy? Moon Dancer couldn’t believe it. It didn’t sound like her. Surely she wouldn’t throw Princess Celestia, her beloved mentor, under a carriage like that.

Indeed, the fire in Twilight’s eyes only burned brighter. “My word is my bond. But you haven’t won yet!”

It took a few moments before Moon Dancer realized what Twilight meant.

Oh. Oh no! She doesn’t honestly expect me to somehow get Princess Luna through the mirror, does she? That was supposed to be Captain Armor’s job, but he was stuck on the other side of the portal right now. Everypony over there had no idea what had happened. They wouldn’t be any more ready than the bearers had been!

Twilight’s defiance did little to impress Princess Luna. “The Elements have failed thee. Thy fellowship is broken.” She paused for a moment. “I can understand if you wish not to take part in what follows, but what more must I do for you to admit defeat?”

A truly evil smile curled the ends of Twilight’s lips. “That–”

Without the slightest hint of warning, a sleep spell appeared from a strange warping of space that hurt just to look at. Princess Luna sidestepped the magic rather than block or dispel it.

“–would be my cue to enter.”





It didn’t surprise Sunset to see the Elements fail as she spied on events from atop a cloud far above the Old Castle. Honestly, what did surprise her was how well the bearers had gotten them to work. She’d have to give Twilight a pat on the back later for doing such a good job with the mess she’d had to endure.

More importantly, Sunset had spotted the crystal mirror hidden away nearby. It was both a perfect match for the sketch in Star Swirl’s research notes and a stroke of genius. She had no idea where Twilight had found it or if she’d somehow constructed it from scratch just for this, but Sunset wouldn’t ignore such an obvious path to victory. All she needed to do was create the right opportunity to use it.

Having seen Luna shield Twilight from their impact with the wall, Sunset sat back and waited to strike until the bearers were back on their hooves. As she did, she took in Luna’s measure, evaluating how her soon-to-be opponent moved and carried herself.

Sunset had always assumed she’d have to fight Celestia someday to cement her hold on the Crystal Empire. She’d prepared for it. She’d done everything she could to give herself the best shot at coming out on top. She felt she had better than even odds at coming out on top for one simple reason.

Celestia was not a warrior.

But her sister? Sunset could see it in every move Luna made. Despite all of the power at her disposal that made brute force a viable option in every battle, she had learned to use it properly. She had the instinct. She had the training. She would be no lumbering beast trampling her way to victory by virtue of being in a weight class all her own.

This was going to be a tough fight.

Once all of the bearers had recovered, Sunset dispelled the telescope spell she’d been using to spy from the sky. She wouldn’t need that to fight. Next, she warped space to give her a clear shot at Luna in the ruins of the Old Castle’s throne room. It was a hard thing to notice when one wasn’t looking for it. Sound carried perfectly well through the distortion in the fabric of reality, however, and she took a moment to eavesdrop.

“The Elements have failed thee. Thy fellowship is broken. I can understand if you wish not to take part in what follows, but what more must I do for you to admit defeat?”

So she’s not thrown in the towel yet. Perfect. Unless Twilight had another crazy plan up her sleeve, Sunset was glad to hear that they were on the same page. She would do the fighting. Twilight could manage the mirror.

“That–” Twilight began, which was just too perfect of a moment for a dramatic entrance to pass up.

Sunset fired a sleep spell through the warped space straight at Luna.

The surprise attack didn’t work. Luna merely sidestepped it. But that was fine. It set the right tone.

Stepping forward with a confident smirk, Sunset entered the throne room and placed herself neatly between Twilight and Luna. “–would be my cue to enter,” she finished.

“Sunset Shimmer,” Luna acknowledged with instant recognition and a tone of respect. “Today is just full of surprises. Did you and my sister mend fences since you stole her crown?”

Reactions to that were mixed. Twilight already knew, of course, while Moon Dancer didn’t seem particularly surprised. Loyalty’s bearer wore a glare that might have been intimidating to a normal pony. The pink one’s long gasp was too absurd to be real, unlike the foals’.

For her own part, Sunset scoffed. “As if. I’m only here because my sisters will pitch a fit if I don’t help out.”

“Sisters?” Luna echoed with a note of genuine confusion in her quiet voice.

“We will not,” Twilight said, answering that question succinctly. With a bit of a huff, she added, “Although I did attempt to contact you on several occasions recently.”

Not taking an eye off of Luna, Sunset waved a hoof dismissively in Twilight’s general direction. “Late notice. That’s your problem, not mine.”

Twilight harrumphed but said nothing more.

A bit of light laughter came from Luna. What she found so funny, she declined to share. Instead, she asked, “So what is thy plan, sorceress? Surely, you don’t intend to fight me.”

Sunset pushed a cocky smirk back onto her face. “Actually,” she began, “that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

“What? No!” Twilight urged the pink one to help her get between the two combatants, and she managed to hobble over on seven legs. “Sunset, you can’t do this.”

“I can’t?” Sunset scoffed. “I heard you before. Look at yourself in the mirror.”

The tiniest bit of emphasis on that last word made Twilight’s eyes widen, something Luna couldn’t see. Sunset couldn’t have positioned the two more perfectly if she’d planned for it.

“What do you think you can do?” Sunset sidestepped to get Twilight and Pinkie Pie out of her line of sight. “Besides–” She made sure to lock eyes with Luna to better play up the overconfident act. “–I am you, Sparkles, only older and better in every way. Just lie down and let me take care of this.”

For a moment, there was total silence.

Then, before anypony could say anything in retaliation, Twilight reached up and removed her crown from her head. She held it out in her hoof. “Take it. Try to keep the collateral damage inside the Everfree.”

This was the first time Sunset had come so close to Magic before. She’d fully expected to experience what Twilight referred to as the call, but there was nothing. She didn’t know how to feel about that or what it meant, but she could think about it later. For now, she levitated Magic onto her head. A bit of power rushed into her, but nothing on the scale she needed or even near what Twilight exhibited while wearing the Element. It would let her cast spells anywhere within the Everfree, though, which was all she required.

Luna bore a heavy frown now, one which even Sunset found utterly unreadable. Something about that exchange had bothered her, clearly, but what and why remained a mystery. When she spoke, it was merely to ask, “Do you insist upon this folly?”

With a shrug, Sunset replied, “The sneak attack didn’t work. Might as well fight you fair and square.”

“Very well,” Luna said. “I suppose I could use a warm up before–”

Sunset reached into the ocean of power safely tucked away within her subspace storage and drew it forth like a river. She unleashed a beam of pure, raw magic at Luna. There was no blocking such an attack without creating a dangerous build up of magic, no dispelling it, and no countering it. The only reasonable options were to get out of the way or take the hit.

In this case, not prepared for an attack of that magnitude, the beam blasted Luna out into the forest. If she were anypony else, the acceleration alone would have knocked her out. Even the Everfree’s chaotic magic couldn’t devour the attack quickly enough to stop it. Trees splintered like twigs as Luna crashed into them. The thundering cracks sent everything within ten leagues running for the hills.

“Fair and square?”

Sunset spared a moment to smirk at Twilight’s wry question. “Well, for me.”

“How much magic did you bring?”

It was hard to say. Sunset hadn’t bothered to measure in well over a decade, but one word sufficed. “Enough.”

Twilight just snorted while everypony else utterly failed to break out of their shocked stupor. “Don’t forget you’re fighting in the Everfree,” she said. “Luna doesn’t have an Element to stabilize the magic around her. Use it to your advantage.”

“Sparkles,” Sunset began flatly, “don’t teach your grandmother to suck eggs.”

Twilight had the decency to look abashed.

That said, the origin of the Everfree Forest’s chaotic magic was no secret to Sunset. Celestia and Luna had created it during their great confrontation a millennium ago. Time had changed the forest, but she wouldn’t count on it not bending before it’s former master’s might.

Case in point, something was ripping up the forest on its way straight toward the Old Castle, and Sunset would bet anything that Luna was the culprit even had she not been able to feel the overwhelming weight of a furious alicorn’s magic headed in her direction.

“I’ll get her full and undivided attention,” Sunset said. There was no need to clarify who ‘she’ was. “We only get one free shot at this.” There was no way Luna would fall for the same trick twice. “Don’t screw up.”

Despite the urgency of the situation, Twilight still shuffled herself off of Pinkie Pie to wrap Sunset up in a hug and a nuzzle. “Thank you.”

“You and Cadey, I swear. Always with the hugging.”

As soon as Sunset managed to get Twilight to let her go, she conjured up a pair of wings for herself and leapt into action. She needed to take this away from the castle and the unintended casualties waiting to happen inside it.





Luna’s initial counterattack when she re-engaged with Sunset was nothing short of an all out attempt to crush the target of her wrath with overwhelming power. It didn’t work, naturally. Sunset had both the magical might behind her to fight fire with fire as well as all of the experience and knowledge necessary to avoid falling into such slugfests to begin with.

It didn’t take long for Luna to adapt and adjust. She shifted into her usual flexible style the very moment she realized Sunset was perfectly willing to meet brute strength with brute strength. The two moved almost as a blur and teleported freely, engaging in a wild melee of spellcasting and the occasional more mundane strike with a conjured weapon meant to sneak through a hole in their defense.

A thunderclap split the air. Twilight pressed her ears to her head against the deafening sound and pushed the phantom pain that came with it from her mind. She vividly recalled Luna shooting her from the sky with lightning during one of their dream spars. As an attack, it was too fast to react to but notoriously, exponentially, impossibly difficult to control over large distances, yet Luna had managed it anyway. That had certainly been an experience.

However, Luna clearly hadn’t heard the full story of Eclipse’s jaunt through Canterlot Castle. The lightning bolt warped around Sunset and flew straight back at her. It didn’t do any more than stagger her for a split second as pegasi, alicorns especially, were resistant to electrical shocks, but it was the principle of the thing.

Someday, Twilight needed to get Sunset to tutor her in dimensional magic. That mare had truly taken spatial manipulation to a whole new level, and it made for one monster of a defensive strategy.

Of course, Luna could see that as well and quickly started including countermeasures in her attacks. Sometimes they worked, sometimes they didn’t, and sometimes Sunset turned the tables on her by letting them work. Twilight wished she could join them. She didn’t particularly like fighting, but she did oh so love the matching of wits inherent in magical duels on her level.

As the battle carried on, the remaining bearers and the Crusaders watched the spectacle in silence. It was hard to tell, but it almost looked like Sunset was, Twilight dared to say, winning. Granted, she’d gotten her flank served to her on a silver platter enough times to tell when Luna was holding back. Only one of those two couldn’t die, after all. Even so, the sight of a puny mortal legitimately giving a goddess a run for her money was heartening, encouraging, inspiring, and every other such word one could think of.

Twilight broke the silence. There was work to be done. “Moon Dancer.”

The mare in question jumped in surprise with a sudden intake of breath. “Huh! I – oh. Yes, Twilight?”

“Get the mirror. You’re going to wield it.”

“What? No!” Moon Dancer fell heavily onto her rear and shrunk in on herself. The impact shifted her glasses, and she used a hoof instead of her magic to push them back into place. “I can’t. Your brother–”

Twilight cut Moon Dancer off. “–has a personal grudge against Sunset.” Unlike Cadance, Shining wasn’t nearly so forgiving about how she’d treated his wife. “And if somepony let it slip that she’s Eclipse as well? Yeah, that’s a complication we don’t need.”

“What about Lyra Heartstrings? Where is she?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” Given current events and the emotional turmoil Lyra had left in, Twilight would guess she’d already left for Ponyville. With Honesty, she could just teleport there through the Everfree. “She’s not in a fit state to do the job.”

Moon Dancer then reached for the only other way to escape. “Trixie?”

“Has divided loyalties,” Twilight replied, which was the nice way of saying she’d probably already ditched them. With a bit of help from Pinkie Pie, Twilight managed to stand in front of Moon Dancer. She placed her forehooves upon the mare’s shoulders with some difficulty and looked her dead in the eye. “It has to be you.”

“Um…”

Before Sweetie Belle could give Moon Dancer another out, Twilight silently interrupted her. You’re going to dump magic into the mirror’s battery. She was too young and inexperienced to be given the primary role when they had somepony far more qualified present.

Moon Dancer gulped. “Are you sure you can’t do it?”

Bitter laughter escaped Twilight. “No, I’m useless. Whatever Luna did to the Elements, it damaged my magic.” She ignored the wide eyes and the gasps that elicited. “I won’t recover for a few days. Please, Moon Dancer.”

“I… Okay.” With unsure eyes downcast, Moon Dancer heaved herself to her hooves. As she left, she said, “I’ll get the mirror.”

That would not do.

“Hey,” Twilight called out.

Moon Dancer paused and looked back over her shoulder.

“I get that you feel out of place here. That” – Twilight thrust a hoof up into the sky behind her where Sunset and Luna flung more magic at each other with every passing second than most ponies would use in their entire lives – “is enough to make anypony feel small. The point isn’t that they’re stronger than you. It’s that they’re leveraging what strengths they have to their advantage. The mirror is the ultimate trump card. Let Sunset do the heavy lifting. You just focus on cheating our way to victory for all you’re worth.”

That was, Twilight felt, probably the best inspirational speech she’d ever given, not that she had too large of a sample size.

A smile forced its way out of Moon Dancer. With a chuckle, she pushed up her glasses in a familiar nervous tic. “I’ve never cheated a day in my life, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”

And with that, Moon Dancer departed to go retrieve the mirror. It was very fortunate they’d kept it hidden and, as a consequence, kept it from being caught up in the throne room’s collapse.

When Moon Dancer was out of earshot, Sweetie Belle spoke up. “Archmage Twilight? I don’t know how to work with solidified magic.”

Yes, Twilight had expected that. “Don’t worry. Unless something goes horribly dramatic, you won’t actually have to do anything. Regardless, it’s not too difficult. I can teach you before we move out.”





After so many close calls, Sunset had developed a sixth sense for electrical buildup. She could feel it in how the hairs of her coat stood on end. Sure enough, Luna teleported directly in front of her and fired off a two punch combo. First came a tricky bit of magic to stabilize the fabric of reality, and then came the lightning bolt. This time, however, she also slashed out with a telekinetic blade to cut the invisible ground connected to the forest floor which Sunset had been using to short out these sorts of attacks.

Sunset bit out some swear on reflex. She didn’t want to test her protective enchantments against alicorn lightning directly if she could avoid it. When ponies told stories about divine judgment, that was the form it usually took.

In the split second before Luna fried her, Sunset pulled a chunk of solidified magic from her subspace storage, crudely shaped it into a malformed, inert spell, expanded it until it reverted to its normal state, and then braced herself for a ride. With the magic free to flow once more, the mass exploded and sent both her and Luna flying.

Having had time to prepare for this fight, Sunset let her enchantments bleed the sudden acceleration into a uniform field across her body. The heat didn’t bother her, but the light made it impossible to see, much less aim, even with scrying spells. And because it was an explosion of magic, if her opponent were anypony else, she wouldn’t be able to sense Luna’s location via her horn.

But alicorns were big, obvious targets in the magical field. Sunset leveled her horn at Luna and fired another beam of raw magic.

By the grunt, the attack struck true. Sunset even felt the mass of magic that was Luna fly away into the sky. This wouldn’t win the battle, but it gave her an opening.

Sunset teleported above where Luna was headed and prepared to blast her toward the ground. If she hit her head hard enough, unprotected, it might knock her out long enough to win this fight outright. She damn well wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to become a living legend if she got it.

But when Sunset’s vision finally cleared, that wasn’t Luna flying toward her. It was just a big lump of magic! A trap! She hurriedly formed a teleport, but it was too late.

Luna appeared just above Sunset and delivered a kick that broke through her enchantments, snapped her spine, and sent her careening into her own attack.

She was not going to lose to that old trick!

Casting aside the half formed teleport, Sunset did something stupid. She telekinetically shoved herself aside to get a good enough angle, if not dodge, and fired another beam. Neighton’s laws applied to magic just as well as anything else. Her attacks deflected off of each other, thankfully, instead of unleashing an explosion of magic that would have probably torn her own magic apart and killed her.

Like a well played game of billiards, Sunset’s original attack sailed dangerously close past her and caught Luna, who hadn’t expected such a harebrained response, instead.

Sunset had a few moments before Luna recovered. Using them, she layered a new polymorph atop her old one to heal. Fighting with a broken spine was a nonstarter.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sunset caught just a glimpse of a splotch of bright color moving beneath the forest canopy below. She purposefully didn’t look any closer but instead glanced toward the Old Castle. Purple, orange, pink, orange, yellow. That left two ponies unaccounted for: Sweetie Belle and Moon Dancer.

So they finally have the mirror ready.

As Sunset’s attack finally ran its course and lost power high up above, she tensed as she realized Luna wasn’t up there.

Don’t tell me she saw the mirror.

Sunset couldn’t go check. If she did, she’d give the whole plan away if Luna didn’t already know.

Deep down, Sunset also didn’t care. She wanted to win. She wanted to best the master of the ancient world. She wanted–

Sunset executed a tight half-loop and shielded herself against a conjured blade. On the ground, it would have been a stalemate. In the air, Luna proved the greater strength. She followed through with the stroke, and although it couldn’t pierce the barrier, it sent Sunset rocketing downward.

Sunset wasn’t the best flier, so she opted to teleport straight up rather than risk a more complicated aerial maneuver. Without the extra work of redirecting her momentum, she got out of the way just before Luna unleashed a follow up attack.

Right. No hubris. Let’s just toss her through the mirror.

Sunset would give the two below wielding it a few more minutes to get set up. After that, she’d start looking for opportunities to knock Luna down to the ground and into the portal.





“Do you think they know we’re down here?” Sweetie Belle asked.

Moon Dancer wasn’t sure. As she observed the battle above through the few gaps in the forest canopy, she noticed that Sunset Shimmer seemed to be favoring attacks aimed downward, which, as a corollary, meant Princess Luna’s return fire often went upward away from them. “Maybe.” It came as a small comfort. She had a teleport ready to get them and the mirror out of trouble if a stray spell came at them, but she didn’t want to trust her reflexes with their lives. She’d much rather those two just didn’t shoot in their general direction. “Either way, our job is the same. You ready?”

“No.”

The poor filly deserved points for honesty in Moon Dancer’s book. “Are you going to be?”

“No.”

A fit of light laughter forced its way out of Moon Dancer. There wasn’t anything funny about this situation, but it was either laugh or curl up into a little ball and cry. “Yeah, me neither.”

“But we have to do this anyway.”

Moon Dancer pat Sweetie Belle on the shoulder. “You’re a braver filly than I ever was. Whatever happens, be proud of that.” Her words actually seemed to have a positive effect on her partner in this venture. She only wished a few pretty words could make her less nervous.

And so they settled in for an uncomfortably close seat to all the action. Moon Dancer carefully constructed a second teleport spell but left the destination unspecified. The plan was to place the mirror in Princess Luna’s path when she couldn’t dodge. Twilight assured her that Sunset Shimmer was in on it. It wasn’t very complicated as far as combat tactics went, but simple plans tended to work best.

The battle raged on. The two combatants continued their deadly dance above, neither seemingly gaining the upper hoof over one another. As they traded blows, their missed attacks occasionally demolished whole sections of the forest.

Then opportunity knocked. Sunset Shimmer and Princess Luna came together and simultaneously unleashed an attack. When the blows met, they went flying in opposite directions. The former soared skyward, gravity having no hold on her. The latter plummeted toward the ground.

This was their chance!

Moon Dancer gave the signal and quickly calculated the destination coordinates for where she needed to place the mirror. It needed to be aligned perfectly to send Princess Luna through it instead of bouncing off of it. She put the results into her teleport spell as Sweetie Belle activated the portal’s battery, and then she sent it away.

Unless she screwed up her math to a wild degree, they only got one shot at this.

Please, please let this work!

Moon Dancer held her breath.

Princess Luna flew straight and true toward the mirror.

Then the moment the portal fully activated, Princess Luna spread her wings and gave a mighty beat. That arrested her momentum only hooves from her defeat. A shield popped into existence between her and the mirror as, with a calculated flap, she spun along her barrel’s axis upward to face the mirror.

The massive counterspell at the tip of Princess Luna’s horn blinked out of existence as her eyes widened.

And in that moment, Sunset Shimmer seized her chance. She teleported directly behind Princess Luna and blasted her straight into the mirror.

Suddenly, all Moon Dancer could feel or hear was the furious beating of her own heart.

It’d worked?

They’d won?

They’d won!

“Oh my gosh! We actually did it!”

Sweetie Belle, just as excited, leapt up and down crying their victory.

Over at the mirror, Sunset Shimmer grabbed hold of it before it fell to the ground and figured out on her own how to deactivate it, two things which Moon Dancer really should have taken care of herself, but she just couldn’t stop to think because they’d really, truly, actually won, and that was amazing, and she’d had a part in it, and her thoughts kept racing with just how incredible it all was, and if she didn’t calm down soon, she–

Moon Dancer’s head swam. She swayed on her hooves. This was one doozy of an emotional high.

Seeing Sunset Shimmer teleport away with the mirror back to the Old Castle, Moon Dancer did her best to calm herself. She and Sweetie Belle needed to return as well to celebrate.





“Really? You’re the Captain of the Royal Guard over there?”

Even if it wasn’t actually his sister seated across the table from him, Shining couldn’t help but preen a bit at the surprise and adulation. “I am! What does the human version of me do?”

“Oh, you’re a police officer,” Sparky, the name Twilight had given him for this version of her, replied. “You’re an inspector, but most think you’ll be the police commissioner when our current one retires.”

Hmm, not bad. It wasn’t nearly as prestigious or influential, but Shining could see the appeal. “What about Cadance?”

“She’s the principal at my old high school, Crystal Prep Academy.”

Shining laughed at the coincidence. “Imagine that. Mine is actually just starting a school of her own for pegasi. She hasn’t decided on a name yet, but I’ll pitch that one to her.” He rubbed his jaw with his hand thoughtfully. “Although everypony will probably just end up calling it Princess Cadance’s School for Gifted Pegasi anyway.”

“Wait. What?” Sparky’s head snapped up from the notes she’d been taking. “Cadance is a princess?”

“You didn’t know?”

Sparky shook her head fiercely back and forth.

“Well, let me tell you–”

Without warning, a massive burst of disordered magic came through the portal. It spread everywhere. Sparks flew from dozens of no doubt delicate instruments. The room itself being designed to contain magic gone wrong kept the chaos going as the magic bounced and bounced until, after what felt like forever, it finally settled.

A few moments of relative silence passed before Shining risked coming out from cover. Even as a human, he could feel the heightened level of magic in the room, but everything looked calm. He called out that the danger had passed.

Sparky emerged from under her desk next. She frowned at the state of her lab and, with a huff, started cleaning it up with telekinesis from where she stood.

“I take it that’s not normal?” Shining asked.

Sparky replied, “It most certainly is not. What on Earth is Sparkles up to?”

Eager to have the very same question answered, Shining tried to pass through the portal. It was closed.

“Well,” Shining began, “I guess we’ll find out later.”





Moon Dancer teleported in with Sweetie Belle not long after Sunset had arrived, and Twilight added them to her celebratory hug as soon as they came within range. Pinkie Pie jumped in next, and then came Flash and the remaining Crusaders for a full group embrace.

It was over. It was really over. They’d won.

“Thank you,” Twilight said. Her voice hitched as she spoke, and she didn’t bother trying to hide that she was crying. “Thank you all. I – I didn’t think – I really thought Celestia – Sunset, you didn’t have to – I – oh, thank you!”

Moon Dancer distinctly blushed and mumbled, “I was happy to help.”

“Anytime, anywhere!” Sweetie Belle said.

Sunset, having already gotten her ego out of the way before the others joined in, asked, “Are you ever going to let me go? I’m burning magic just holding on to it, you know.”

However valid a complaint, Twilight shook her head. She wouldn’t let this feeling of warmth and accomplishment go anytime soon. It was hard to believe it was all over. Granted, she still had to get Luna to concede defeat and work out where they went from here, but that was the easy part. The impossible part was over. The merely hard part, of course, would be reconciling the two sisters.

Twilight chuckled with a lightness she hadn’t felt in years. That’ll certainly be a long-term project.

“Pinkie,” Twilight began, “how would you like to throw us a victory party?”

The mare in question gasped in what sounded like both excitement and surprise. “I’d love to! We can invite everypony!”

“Yes, a celebration would be most appropriate for such a glorious victory.”

Everypony froze. Twilight’s heart sank in her chest. Slowly, she turned to face the source of the voice. Standing just beside the mirror was the mare they’d pushed through it and locked safely away.

“Your creativity is commendable,” Luna continued, “but you misunderstand my very nature.”

Twilight struggled for words that wouldn’t come.

“Tell me, were you counting on me to be unwilling to destroy the mirror or did you just get lucky?”

From the peaks of joy to the valleys of despair, Twilight fought not to hyperventilate.

“Well, I suppose it matters little. ’Tis your loss. Do you yield at last?”

Twilight had nothing. Unless Sunset thought she could fight Luna and win? Twilight turned to her last chance with what she knew was a terribly unfair hope in her wet eyes.

The silent request did not pass unnoticed. Sunset frowned, performed some mental calculation, bit her lip, and then finally shook her head.

Twilight forced a thin smile onto her face. She understood and accepted the decision. Tough choices were part of her job.

But was there truly nothing else she could do? There had to be something. There was always something.

But she had a hard time thinking of it.

“I… I-I…” Twilight hung her head and squeezed her eyes shut. She refused to show Luna her tears.

At this very moment, as if fate meant to mock Twilight, light coalesced into Celestia’s form near the pile of rubble that used to be the Elements’ pedestal, because of course she arrived just in time to witness her faithful student swear herself to another princess. Why not just rub salt in her wounds while fate was at it?

Luna, however, rather than take advantage of the opportunity, turned her full attention onto Celestia. Her expression twisted into a predatory smile. “Ah, dear sister. Arriving late, I see.” That silky voice sent shivers down Twilight’s spine. “Done letting other ponies fight your battles for you?”

The first time Celestia opened her mouth, no words came out. Her second attempt only netted her a quiet, “Lulu…” She took first a half step forward and then a full one. “Lulu, is that really you?”

“Despite your best efforts,” Luna shot back at just shy of a snarl.

Celestia only stepped closer. “I never wanted you gone, Lulu. These past thousand years have been agony for me.”

As Celestia drew near, Luna stalked the beginnings of a circle about her. “Oh, I believe you. Certainly, you could not have found bearers for the Elements and set me free early. Certainly, nopony could possibly manage such a feat. Certainly, no ragtag band of misfits came close with the Crystal Empire.”

Twilight winced. Her own actions had given Luna that ammunition. When she saw how stricken Celestia looked, she cringed away from the sight.

“Lulu, we tried that ourselves. We failed. I thought… If I had known… I…” Celestia shook her head. “No. No excuses. Lulu, I beg of you, please forgive me for everything. I regret everything. I am more sorry than you can possibly imagine. I want to make amends any way I can.”

The stirrings of an irresistible form of magic prickled at Twilight’s horn and pulled at her muscles like marionette strings.

“Make amends?” Luna echoed bitterly. “One thousand years, Sister. What could you possibly offer to make amends?”

“Anything,” Celestia pleaded. “Everything.”

The magic swelled. Twilight wasn’t sure if the royal sisters even noticed as Luna smoothly transitioned into verse.

“Oh, you can give me everything?
“Yes, anything I want?”

Luna barked a laugh.

“I know your words are empty and
“As hollow as this haunt.”

In a show of strength, she cast a massive spell of dizzying complexity. Piece by piece, the Old Castle rose around them, renewed and repaired. As the dais reformed, she climbed the stairs to her old throne while the heartsong carried on.

“You have no power to keep me
“From what is rightly mine.
“You must admit you lack the strength.
“You might as well resign.”

Luna caressed her old seat of power with a soft smile that soon fell into a frown and then turned back to her audience.

“So now what do you offer me,
“O’ sister I despise?
“A world that’s forgotten me
“And a throne without allies?”

The magic of the music, despite it being – or perhaps because it was – an expression of Luna’s innermost feelings, conspicuously placed everypony supportively behind Celestia.

“What do you think my answer is
“When that is your reply?
“Forgiveness is outside your reach,
“And let–” Luna leapt from the dais into a glide. “–me lay out–” She landed neatly in front of the gathered group. “–why.”

A new wave of magic swept through the throne room and displayed scenes of Luna’s past in every direction. Some Twilight recognized from stories or Luna’s anecdotes. Some showed events she now knew were wrongly accredited to Celestia. Most depicted matters she’d never heard of.

“The ponies of Equestria
“Once knew a dark blue knight,
“The merry maid who danced and played
“And fought for what was right.”

Luna moved from scene to scene, nostalgically reciting some of her more notable accomplishments.

“I brought us out of the Everfree.
“I braved the northern fjords.
“I fought the creatures of the night.
“I faced the feathered hordes.”

And then the harmony darkened. The black figure of an alicorn leapt from the shadows and shattered the images of Luna’s past. With them went any semblance of happiness in her voice as her anger resurfaced.

“Yet now the specter, Nightmare Moon,
“Awaits those in the dark
“Because you let them demonize
“Without a kind remark.”

Luna banished the unwanted remnant of her past and then spun on Celestia.

“It would have been so easy, too,
“Just something simple, mind,
“A word or two from you to them
“To see that we’re aligned.”

The heartsong compelled Celestia to a brief moment of protest that she had tried, but the words fell on deaf ears. No, worse than that, Luna snorted contemptuously as though she believed them but found them somehow wanting anyway.

“But it no longer matters now.
“I see through your design.
“The simple truth is that this time
“You’ve truly crossed the line.”

Twilight moved with the music as it carried her to stand beside Celestia, who now sat upon the Solar Throne in the Old Castle. Luna stood at the base of the dais while everypony else stared up at her in wonder amongst a crowd of illusionary courtiers.

“How all those little ponies jump
“Upon your ev’ry word
“Exposed, your lies, I can’t deny,
“Would simply pass unheard.”

Upon Luna’s approach up the dais, Celestia gracefully rose and stepped aside. The intent was clear.

Luna did not take the offered throne. She smacked aside the hoof Celestia raised in invitation.

“Still now I’m here to call you out
“On what you’d call a gift.”

Luna gestured at the empty seat of power.

“You have arranged for my return
“To proceed smooth and swift.”

The attention of the audience noticeably shifted from one sister to the other, although it was no longer with open admiration but rather a mixture of suspicion, begrudging acceptance, and open hostility.

“But who, I ask, does benefit
“From pomp and circumstance
“As this eleventh hour dies
“As though to break a trance?”

Luna stepped forward and thrust out a hoof. Her voice raised in volume, and she slipped on controlling her habitual anachronisms.

“’Tis thee who dost abuse
“Thy ponies’ twisted loyalty
“To leave in gallant sacrifice
“To rival royalty!”

To emphasize the point, Luna blasted Celestia from the dais. Everypony gathered watched her fall with gasps of shock before their horrified gazes snapped back to Luna. Twilight herself could only watch on with clenched teeth.

“A noble end. Thy conscience eased.
“A sister vilified.
“I hope thy vanity was worth
“The hate I must abide.”

Bitterly, Twilight mentally conceded that she understood how Luna could come to this conclusion. If she could just get those two to talk without Luna dismissing everything Celestia said or Celestia’s guilty conscience getting in the way! It wouldn’t heal all of the hurt, but it’d be a start.

“I sometimes asked, ‘What if I’m wrong?’
“But this doth vindicate
“A thousand years of my distrust
“Which thou didst instigate.”

Luna stared down upon Celestia from the dais, power swelling around her on a scale that dwarfed even her battle with Sunset. With her magic injured, Twilight could only guess at what Luna was casting. She had a bad feeling she was about to find out the hard way, however, as the music swelled to a climax.

“And as we part a thousand more,
“Here’s a mercy for thy jail.”

There was sudden silence, and then Luna’s dark voice broke it.

“When next we meet, I shall ensure
“Thou find a level scale.”

The heartsong crescendoed as the magic in the air spiked. Whatever Luna intended to do with Celestia, be it banishment, petrification, or something more mundane, they stood upon the precipice.

And then a lone voice cried out, “Wait!”





This wasn’t the first heartsong Sweetie Belle had gotten caught up in. As a rule, she liked them more, it seemed, than most sorceresses did.

But Princess Luna’s? A shiver would have run down Sweetie Belle’s spine if she had the agency for it. Princess Luna hid her thoughts behind what sounded like Old Ponish, but this could only end one way. Even if the thick emotion hanging in the air allowed Princess Celestia to sing a reprise in answer, Sweetie Belle had overheard enough stray comments to worry about the princess’s own sense of guilt.

Something had to be done! Sweetie Belle imagined herself in Princess Luna’s place with Rarity down below and shook. Their bond would never – no, could never become so strained. As Princess Luna sang her anger and hurt to her sister, the dark emotions hanging heavy in the air grasped Sweetie Belle’s heart. Somepony had to do something!

As she struggled against the heartsong, a familiar feeling swelled up in Sweetie Belle. She’d caught hints of it now and then, almost always fleeting. It’d come clearest when she’d played the piano with Spike. This time she chased it to its source with abandon. It felt like something new and beautiful, and she just knew it had to be exactly what they needed.

Somehow, following a faint instinct, Sweetie Belle pushed back against the heartsong.

It fought back.

The weight of the heartsong’s magic threatened to crush her. It felt like wrestling the moon.

Then it happened.

It came in a moment of clarity.

As Princess Luna’s power built with the climax of the heartsong to strike her own sister down, the slightest weakness in the magic showed itself.

Sweetie Belle felt a shift in her own magic, a solidifying and strengthening of what was already there. Her mind lit with possibilities she didn’t understand. Something was happening, and if she proceeded any further, she might not be able to stop it.

A lone voice cried out, “Wait!”

For a moment, the world fell into perfect silence as it turned to Sweetie Belle.
> Chapter Twenty Nine - The Solstice (Part Three)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Held aloft in her magic, the finished journal levitated over to a place of dishonor at the front of her library. It would be the first volume, Apotheosis, of a matched set. All of the magic involved too dangerous to leave lying around, she would place into an appendix on some other occasion. That information, she would store in the restricted section of her library. It was too precious to risk losing to time despite everything.





Sweetie Belle swallowed. The entire weight of the situation fell squarely upon her shoulders. Her friends were watching. Her mentor wore a look of worry, shock, and perhaps the slightest glimmer of hope. The princesses, Luna above and Celestia below, bore unreadable expressions.

No pressure.

Luna’s heartsong still held Sweetie Belle firmly under its sway. She couldn’t escape it, but she had a very strong feeling that there were rules. She might not know them, and she might not know why she felt so certain they existed, but she could influence the song so long as she didn’t break any of them.

No pressure!

Sweetie Belle forced herself not to swallow again as she dissected Luna’s heartsong. Ballad meter. Only minor variations from iambic feet. Rhyme second lines of the couplets. Subject matter is her dysfunctional relationship with her sister. So long as she stayed within those lines, she should be fine.

She hoped.

Sweetie Belle wet her lips, took a deep breath, stepped before Princess Luna, and then did her best to string words together on the fly.

“It’s clear to me that you’re upset,
“Enough to stage a coup.”

There were dozens of simple words that rhymed with coup, but Sweetie Belle needed to stay on subject and get across what she wanted to say. She bit her lip, doing her best to plan ahead, and then haltingly produced the next two lines.

“If even half of that is true
“Then so you should be too.”

That worked well enough as a start, she supposed. She still had a grip on the heartsong, at least, however she was doing that. But she needed to segue into something useful. Right now, though, she just needed something to say. The heartsong was allowing her to set her own pace and sing a cappella at the moment, but she didn’t want to test its patience with her. Maybe she could establish some rapport with a quick stanza? It wasn’t like she didn’t get where Princess Luna was coming from.

“I cannot say how often my
“Own sister does the same.
“Sometimes I want to throttle her.
“It’s all part of the name.”

Sweetie Belle suppressed a cringe. That wasn’t the best rhyme of her life, but it got the job done. And now that she’d gotten it out, she had a rough idea on where to go next. She just needed time to work out the details, which made now the perfect time to cobble together a chorus she could mindlessly repeat.

“Yes, older sisters are the worst,
“As all of us attest.
“They understand so little of
“The burden we detest.”

That would do. Now she only needed to rag on everypony’s elder sisters a bit for being good big sisters in ways that drove little sisters crazy. Then she could make the comparison between them and the princesses. She had plenty of little sisters gathered here and more material than she knew what to do with.

But before Sweetie Belle could start, the heartsong suddenly twisted, for lack of a better word in her vocabulary, and wrested control away from her. It wasn’t Luna who sang the next verse, however. Pinkie hopped into place beside Sweetie Belle with a bounce in her step and a bubbly voice.

“My eldest sister is a grump.
“She treats me like a chore.
“And when she tried to cheer me up,
“She always was a bore.”

Sweetie Belle blinked. Was that what she thought it was? A grin pulled at her lips as she felt the heartsong pull at her to sing the chorus with Pinkie. It was running itself now!

“Yes, older sisters are the worst,
“As all of us attest.
“They understand so little of
“The burden we detest.”

Archmage Twilight shambled over next from where she’d stood beside Celestia’s throne. This was really happening!

“My sister hovers over me.
“She’s always there to help.
“It’s like I can’t do things myself
“As though I’m just a whelp.”

With the heartsong on automatic, at least for the moment, Sweetie Belle allowed herself to slip fully back into the current of its magic. As she sang the chorus with Pinkie and now Archmage Twilight as well, she made a note to tell her mentor that she had a lovely singing voice and could have it outside heartsongs as well with a bit of practice despite her reservations.

“Yes, older sisters are the worst,
“As all of us attest.
“They understand so little of
“The burden we detest.”

Next came Apple Bloom galloping up the dais steps into place beside the rest of the oh so terribly mistreated little sisters.

“My sister is a hypocrite
“Who thinks she knows what’s best.
“She says, ‘Do this,’ when she did that.
“She’s such an unfair pest.”

Sweetie Belle had a feeling she knew what that was about, but they’d have to talk about it later. The chorus came again, this time with Apple Bloom joining in.

“Yes, older sisters are the worst,
“As all of us attest.
“They understand so little of
“The burden we detest.”

And now at last came Sweetie Belle’s turn. She wasn’t sure if the urge came from the heartsong or her own conscious desire, but she took the opportunity to vent.

“My sister lets my parents leave
“Upon their merest whim.
“She never tries to tell them no.
“It’s really very grim.”

It wasn’t much of a secret that Sweetie Belle wished her parents were around more often, but she hoped all the same that nopony mentioned this to them. Besides, she had Rarity to look after her, and that was what this song was really all about.

“Yes, older sisters are the worst,
“As all of us attest.
“They understand so little of
“The burden we detest.”

The next voice to add her gripes was Scootaloo’s. There was a sudden odd feeling of incongruence about the heartsong, but Sweetie Belle didn’t know what it meant or a better way to describe it, not until she heard the new verse.

“My sister figure is sublime
“And never has to try.
“She taught me magic, these despite–”

Scootaloo held out her stunted wings and then hopped onto a few tufts of clouds to move about the air.

“–And even how to fly!”

Everypony who’d sung so far turned a frown at best onto Scootaloo. Even the princesses looked unimpressed.

The heartsong allowed the filly who couldn’t read a room to save her life enough agency to ask, “What?”

The question went ignored. Sweetie Belle could feel the annoyed charge in the air. She wouldn’t even have to try to force a change upon the chorus despite Scootaloo joining in now. The vast majority were in visceral agreement on what had to be done, and the heartsong reflected that.

“Yes, older sisters are the worst,
“As most of us attest.
“They understand so little of
“The burden we detest.”

And now, to Sweetie Belle’s surprise, when she’d intended to wrest control of the heartsong back to spell out the takeaway to Princess Luna, Archmage Twilight stepped forward once more for another verse.

“My other sister is a thief,
“The best I’ve ever known.
“I shouldn’t trust her with a thing.”

Archmage Twilight very deliberately turned a warm smile upon Sunset Shimmer waiting off to the side and out of the way.

“I’ve reaped what I have sown.”

Sweetie Belle was very confused, but there was no time for that lest she miss the beat. She reached out for the heartsong as she had before and took what nominal control it allowed her to alter the chorus again with everypony singing along.

“Yes, older sisters are the best,
“As all of us attest.
“They always give so much despite
“The burden we detest.”

And now they came upon the moment of truth. This was the first time Sweetie Belle had met Princess Luna, but anypony could tell that her murderous rage had cooled into something just shy of an explosive fury as she humored them. Maybe this would work. With all the time the choruses had given her to compose, Sweetie Belle was prepared to deliver her final verse.

“So there you see they have their faults.
“Nopony is exempt.
“Sometimes they anger us so much
“We hold them in contempt.”

The group of little sisters parted to make way for Princess Celestia to approach her own little sister.

“And yet we love them all the same.
“That bond will never break.
“Now maybe you should listen up
“If just for your own sake.”

Sweetie Belle swallowed and, with nervous, shaking legs, released her control over the heartsong. The musical accompaniment slowed from the upbeat, bouncy tune in time with their griping into a solemn, flowing sound. It was up to the princesses now to sort out their differences.

Princess Celestia opened her mouth and sang with the most beautiful, broken voice.

“My dearest little sister~
“I never meant to hurt you~
“I know you’re mad, and I’m to blame.
“I don’t know what to do~”

Princess Luna snorted but, thankfully, didn’t interrupt.

“Your happiness is all I want.
“It’s always been my goal.
“And though I’ve erred along the way,
“I want to keep that role.”

Princess Celestia attempted to step closer, but the warning glare she received in turn made her wilt in place. She recovered quickly, however, and pressed on.

“I know you cannot trust me now,
“Not like you did before,
“But let me prove my love for you
“Ere slamming shut this door.”

A deep, rumbling growl that might as well have been a snarl came from Princess Luna. They could all but see her grinding her teeth together.

“I truly wish to mend our bond.
“I know it will be hard.
“Please take a chance. I know we’ll last.
“We need not be so scarred~”

As Princess Celestia’s voice faded away, they endured a stanza’s worth of silence as Princess Luna slowly grew more visibly agitated. She made no indication of what she was struggling with, but Sweetie Belle hoped it was her heart trying to convince her head to grant forgiveness. In the midst of a heartsong, nopony could deny the pure, unfiltered emotions in the air. Even she had to admit Princess Celestia spoke from the heart without the slightest hint of deception.

And then the heartsong began once more, just as slow and solemn as it’d been under Princess Celestia. When Princess Luna sang, her words lacked energy and spirit. One could easily mistake them for spoken verse.

“Yes, older sisters are the worst.
“They spoil everything.
“Revenge like this ’tis hardly fun.
“’Twould barely take a swing.”

Princess Luna closed her eyes, each and every pony present held in suspense. Princess Celestia wore a look of cautious hope about her. Sweetie Belle wondered it she’d actually done it. Surely it couldn’t be, could it?

It was not.

Princess Luna’s fury came crashing down upon them. The moment of peace fled before the swell of only barely restrained rage.

“Just go! Be gone! Get to the moon!
“I’ll keep mine eye on thee!
“The moment thou step out of line
“Shall end this small mercy~”

Princess Celestia’s face twisted into the very picture of agony as she visibly forced down sobs. She offered one last weak smile for Archmage Twilight and a small nod for Sunset Shimmer before she dissolved into light.

The very moment Princess Celestia departed, Princess Luna finished her final note.

The heartsong was over.

They’d lost.

Everypony had lost.

Princess Luna turned to Archmage Twilight and sharply asked, “Our bargain?”

Outside, the full moon hung high in the sky, now without the visage of the Mare in the Moon. It took a few moments before Archmage Twilight managed to wrest her gaze and attention from the throne room’s windows and the moon beyond. Even then, it was a slow process as she battled the shock of it all.

“I… Oh. Yes, of course.” Her voice lacked any emotion, and Archmage Twilight carried on almost like a golem. “We’re not due in Ponyville until an hour before sunrise. Go cool off if you want to make a good impression.”

Sweetie Belle still didn’t know what that was about, but the response seemed to satisfy Equestria’s new ruling princess. And wasn’t that a thought? So much was about to change that hadn’t in generations – no, centuries. It was the end of the Solar Era and the beginning of the Lunar Era.

“If my sister misbehaves,” began Princess Luna, “I expect you to clean up after her.”

Archmage Twilight’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded.

“If she takes a single step out of line, I will ensure she can’t again.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

“So long as you understand.” Princess Luna then heaved a heavy sigh that spoke to the mess of emotions roiling around inside of her. “Now I think I’ll take your advice. Maybe I can dig up some Apple cider from my stores and drink Sunny under the table. Hmm… Autumn and Ember are awake as well, as is…”

And with that strange comment, Princess Luna dispersed into soft light much as Princess Celestia had before her. That wasn’t the exit Sweetie Belle had expected, but, well, she supposed she might do the same if she were a little older and in Princess Luna’s place. Today had been a roller coaster of emotions for everypony.

A few moments passed as everypony just processed everything.

Soon enough, Archmage Twilight approached Sweetie Belle while actively rejecting Pinkie’s assistance, her face unreadable. She reached out with an arm and scooped Sweetie Belle up into a tight, fierce hug. When she spoke, it was with a wet voice that had finally broken.

“Thank you. I don’t know how you did it, but thank you.”

Sweetie Belle flushed at the praise and gratitude and mumbled back, “I don’t really know either.” How did she explain this? “It was like I knew things I don’t, but… It was like instinct, but more…solid?” That sounded like gibberish.

Yet a knowing smile, as much of one as she could manage right now, grew on Archmage Twilight’s face.

A new voice joined the exchange. “I have an idea,” Sunset Shimmer said. “Cadey showed us something like this. From Star Swirl’s research, remember?”

Archmage Twilight finally released Sweetie Belle as her gaze shifted to Sunset Shimmer, who gave nothing away, and her brow furrowed in thought. There was nothing like a good puzzle to distract somepony, was there?

Then the spark of realization lit Archmage Twilight’s still wet eyes. “The Sirens!” She turned back to Sweetie Belle. “You’re a spellsinger!”

Sweetie Belle cocked her head to the side. “A what?” The name said it all, most likely, but she’d never heard of the term before.

“A spellsinger. You sing spells. It’s old magic.” Archmage Twilight smirked and added, “Cutie mark magic.”

“What!” Could it be? Was it possible? Sweetie Belle twisted her neck to inspect herself. There, in place of her familiar blank flank, was an eighth note over the six-pointed star of magic.

Sweetie Belle squealed in delight.

It was at this point that Flash released his silencing hold on the other two Crusaders, who immediately swarmed so they could celebrate together.





Twilight stepped far aside to let the Crusaders have their moment together without her bringing the mood down. A weak chortle slipped past her lips as she thought about the events leading up to it. And I thought I had a good cutie mark story. She hijacked a heartsong of all things from a goddess.

And that was going to become just another problem, wasn’t it? Twilight rubbed a hoof into her mane and leaned heavily against a column supporting the repaired roof. What was she going to do about Sweetie Belle now?

The question hung in her mind as Twilight watched Pinkie enthusiastically join in the fillies’ celebration. She could tell from the sad looks that the mare wanted to console her after how this all had ended, but Pinkie had apparently learned her moods well enough to know now wasn’t the time for that sort of thing.

Twilight heaved a quiet sigh. Well, this could have gone worse. Exile is…okay. I guess.

It didn’t feel real yet. It hadn’t sunken in.

Celestia can send mail. Maybe build up that moon colony Luna wanted to establish when they were young. Luna said she’d try to teach me dreamwalking, so someday I’ll be able to go visit whenever I want. This is fine.

She just needed to get through the transitional period.

Might as well consider it a long holiday. It’s not like Celestia isn’t overdue for…

Something sticky coated Twilight’s chest. She brought a hoof up to scrape it off, but it just made the toe sticky too. What is this? Tree sap? She looked back over at Sweetie Belle, who, upon inspection, appeared to be coated in the stuff judging by the matted hair of her coat. How did that even happen?

“Hey.”

Twilight did her best to quickly wipe the sap off onto a clean part of her coat. The last thing she needed was her hoof sticking to the ground as she shambled around. Once she’d valiantly failed at that, too, she returned the greeting. “Hey, Sunset.”

The mare in question approached with Moon Dancer and Flash following right behind her. Without prompting or, strangely enough, any hesitation when its mere presence unconsciously drew Moon Dancer’s eye, she returned Magic to Twilight’s head. “I need to go unload my subspace storage. Are you going to be okay here?”

Twilight managed a smirk at the question. “Well, look at you. Coming to the rescue and now this? You’re secretly a big softie underneath that surly facade, aren’t you?”

“I can just leave, you know,” Sunset replied flatly.

Moon Dancer cleared her throat before that could go any further. “I think we’re going to need a lift.”

Oh. Right. She’d done her best to suppress the feeling, but now that Twilight’s attention went back to her magic, she felt more than a little nauseous again. She wasn’t going to be useful anytime soon. Everypony else who could teleport the group out of the Everfree quickly had already left. Loyalty, the finicky little thing, could carry luggage, but it wouldn’t accept magical passengers even though it transported mundane animals and magical artifacts just fine.

Then again, that gave Twilight an idea. “If you really need to go, we can just send everypony through the mirror and have Flash take it to Ponyville.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Flash asked. He conspicuously eyed the way Twilight leaned heavily against her pillar.

“That…” It was something Twilight hadn’t thought about. “–is a good point.” Who knew how her injured magic would react to that horrible reality. “Would you give at least me a ride out?”

“Sure, Sparkles. Maybe we can take tea. You look like you’re about to keel over.”

Yeah, that felt about right. Twilight couldn’t help but chuckle at her own helplessness. “Tea sounds good.” She turned to Moon Dancer and said, “If something goes inexplicably, horribly wrong in the next few minutes, I’m leaving you in charge.” With all three Crusaders together, she didn’t discount the possibility. “Pull Shining out of the mirror and boss him around if you need to.”





The subject of conversation upon everypony’s mind was the sudden and unexplained disappearance of the Mare in the Moon. Rarity, who strongly suspected if perhaps not outright knew the cause, found herself more often than not opting to remain silent rather than trying to contribute some far-fetched but plausible sounding theory. She certainly hoped Princess Luna never heard some of the more inane ideas.

A very pointed clearing of a throat from behind Rarity stole her attention from one such hypothesis about moon ponies planning to terraform their home or some such nonsense. To be certain, she’d not known who or what she’d expected to find when she turned in place, but this sight was new even for Ponyville. At first, she mistook the pony for Twilight, but closer inspection revealed that it was her regent, Moon Dancer. Large, scattered patches of her coat glowed with an eerie green light in the night like something out of a horror story.

Rarity cleared her own throat. “Er, Your Excellency, are you aware that you seem to be, well, glowing?” The unamused glare she received in return made her promptly add, “Yes, silly question. My apologies. How can I help you?”

“I believe one of these belongs to you.” Moon Dancer levitated a trio of guilt-ridden fillies forward, each similarly glowing in odd places, one of whom indeed fit the bill. Rarity felt her eye drawn to Generosity, whose gem had curiously changed shape, briefly before she shook off the strange, magnetic charm it always exuded.

“Sweetie Belle!” Rarity stepped forward to reclaim her younger sister and carefully scooped her up into a hug, doing her best to avoid the unidentified substance covering her. “But if you’re here, where is Index?” She looked back and forth between her sister and Moon Dancer. “Is it all over?”

Neither of the two jumped to answer the question, nor did the other two Crusaders, although Rarity wasn’t quite sure how they’d gotten involved.

“Index isn’t hurt, is she?” Or worse!

After a few moments, Moon Dancer went with, “She’s currently resting. Things could have gone better.”

Rarity strangled her gasp to avoid attracting attention. “But then…”

This time Sweetie Belle spoke. “Things could have gone worse, but we lost.”

Oh no! Oh, poor Princess Celestia. Oh, and Twilight, the poor dear. She must be absolutely inconsolable!

“But! But look at this!” Sweetie Belle shifted to show off her flank. There, instead of a pure coat of snow white hair, sat the six-pointed star symbolizing magic with an eighth note laid over top it. “I’m a spellsinger!”

A wide smile now split Rarity’s lips. “Congratulations!” It was nice to know some good had come out of the royal family drama even if she wasn’t precisely sure what a spellsinger was beyond what the name implied. “We simply must do something to celebrate.” She turned back to the mare who’d been politely pretending not to eavesdrop and asked, “Fleur, darling, would you mind terribly if I left early?”

“Non, a pony only gets their cutie mark once. Someday, though, you must remember to introduce us properly.”

“Of course. Of course.” With that out of the way, Rarity turned her attention back to the others. To Moon Dancer, she said, “I can take all three of them if you have somewhere you need to be.”

The mare in question offered a gruff, “Thank you,” before stalking off while shaking her head and no doubt muttering curses upon the spirit of youth under her breath.

Rarity eyed all of the Crusaders with a practiced eye to make them squirm. “You three fillies have some explaining to do.” And that included, if her suspicions were correct, how the two very much not bearing an Element had gotten involved in the battle against Princess Luna. Once they’d suffered long enough, she let them off the hook for now. “But that can wait. As can your baths. You can tell me all the details over…”

“Ice cream!” Sweetie Belle filled in once she clued in on that it was her choice.

“Over ice cream, then,” Rarity said. A perfect comfort food as well. I couldn’t have chosen better myself. “Now let’s be off.”

As eager as Rarity was to hear everything that had happened with Princess Luna, which she doubted it would take much coaxing to get the Crusaders to share, they needed to find some privacy first for that to happen. Since it seemed Sweetie Belle was tolerating crowds much more easily now, that gave them several nearby options without forcing her to remove Generosity.





An almost silent clink-click drew Twilight back into wakefulness from the hazy border of sleep. In front of her, she found a fresh, steaming cup of tea with a bendy straw that looked to be trying its best to escape from its too small container.

“I noticed you haven’t been using your magic,” Sunset explained. “Not even for the smallest things.”

Twilight sent Sunset a weak smile and a grateful nod. A straw wasn’t exactly the easiest or most refined way to drink tea, but it was better than risking scalding herself or letting Sunset treat her like a foal. But no matter how it happened, she was just happy to get some caffeine in her. The exhaustion, physical and emotional, was catching up with her. She eagerly blew on it and then sipped from the cooler surface.

It tasted almost exactly like something Celestia would have brewed.

“Are the Elements that magically taxing or did Luna do something when she–” Sunset mimed the chopping motion Luna had used to deflect the Elements.

With a shake of her head, Twilight replied, “It’s tiring to use them, but whatever Luna did sent a backlash straight at my magic.”

Sunset made a face.

“I’ll get better,” Twilight hastily added, not needing the pity. “I’ve done something similar to myself before. It’s not as bad this time, I think. If I lay off the magic, I should be able to function well enough to…” She breathed deep, in and then out, and forced down all of the bad feelings swelling in her chest. “–to work through the transition of power.”

“That’s good.” Sunset’s expression was unreadable. “Still. Ouch.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

While Sunset went to pour a cup of tea for herself, notably with a conspicuously large amount of sugar hovering nearby, Twilight turned to inspecting her surroundings. She’d been half dead when Sunset had carried her in here, and now that she was kind of awake again, her curiosity got the better of her as it usually did.

From what little Twilight recalled of the rest of the manor Sunset called home, the sunroom was modest by comparison. It had a bust and a vase that she suspected came with a very large price tag, but most of the considerable free space went to exotic plants. She recognized a cactus that only grew in the badlands south of Equestria. The plum lily in the corner she was almost sure was a rare species from the jungle. And that blue flower was poison joke! How did Sunset manage to make that grow this far from the Everfree?

Sunset soon noticed Twilight’s wandering eyes. “If you think this is interesting, you should see my basement.”

“Can I!” If she could cast spells right now, Twilight would have made her eyes sparkle.

Regrettably, Sunset replied, “Maybe some other time. You do have somewhere to be this morning.”

“Spoilsport. I’ll hold you to that promise someday.” Beyond the bulk of the vast riches Sunset had acquired over her life, Twilight assumed that was where she stored and produced the absurd amount of magic she’d brought to fight Luna. Part of Twilight wanted to ask how many years of production she’d burnt through tonight, but the greater whole knew it’d be about as crass to inquire after as it would be to ask how much a gift cost.

“Sure, whatever. Just don’t make me regret bringing you here.”

The words came without any true heat, but Twilight couldn’t resist the chance to tease. “After you heroically came to the rescue tonight? Perish the thought.”

Sunset turned away and sipped from her tea. 

“The role really does suit you. If that was a dry run for the Crystal Empire, I think you’ll do just fine as a hero empress.”

“Of course I will,” Sunset said just above a mumble. “Who do you think I am?” She heaved a sigh as she set her cup down. “You know, with Sunbutt around, I wasn’t ever going to invite you here.”

Twilight’s smile faded at the reminder of Celestia’s exile. “I can understand that.” She hadn’t exactly been subtle in her attempts to bring Sunset back into the fold. It was hard to say what she’d have done with the information in the long run. “But now it’s Luna on the throne.”

“Yeah. I doubt you’ll sell me out to her despite that weird frenemies thing you two have going on.”

“It’s just friends now, I guess,” Twilight said somberly. “I already hate my job. I don’t need to deal with hating my boss as well. It won’t make my life any easier.”

“You know that’s bunk, right?”

Twilight arched an eyebrow at Sunset. Of course she knew. That wasn’t the point. 

After a sip of tea, Sunset changed the subject. “So you made a working crystal mirror?”

“Oh. Um, no. I sort of, well, borrowed it without permission from Luna.”

Sunset snickered as she concluded, “So you stole it.”

“No!”

“You totally did.” There was no attempt to hide her amusement on Sunset’s end. “Look, Sparkles, I know you look up to me, but don’t take it too far.”

Twilight managed no more intelligent response than a groan. Of all ponies, Sunset was the absolute last one who needed more friendly blackmail material on her.

“So what’s the other side of the mirror like?”

Oh, that question deserved a proper answer for somepony who could truly appreciate it. “Imagine ripping out your cutie mark and replacing it with a special talent for vulnerability and emptiness.”

“Yikes. Makes me glad to have missed it. And you sent your brother over there?”

“Well, he probably won’t mind as much.” That said, perhaps Twilight would let him off the hook now for the whole Flash fiasco. “The magic system on the other side is similar enough that we don’t die, but its different enough that you can’t feel that part of you. Shining is a powerful mage, but the core of his being doesn’t revolve entirely around it. Not like us.”

“Ah. Was it at least worth the trip?”

Twilight shrugged. She hadn’t seen much of the other world, but everypony else who’d gone over the second time seemed to have enjoyed themselves. “These are all secondhoof stories, but it’s all I have right now.” She then proceeded to share what she’d heard from the others.

A while later, Sunset was the first person to have a proper reaction. “Wait, a parallel world? In the literary sense? Are you serious? That’s ridiculous. Do you know how unlikely that is to occur by chance?”

“Vindication!” Twilight cried to nopony. She took a sip of tea while Sunset’s eyes rolled. Afterward, she added, “But it’s true. I’ve met our counterparts. They’re lab partners.” She went ahead, then, and told the whole story of what she knew about those two.

When Twilight finished, Sunset admitted, “Sounds like a nice life.” It was far from ruling a nation or a potential ascension, but the everlasting fame of being what amounted to Star Swirl’s Star Swirl had an undeniable appeal. She then eyed Twilight with a scrutinizing look. “‘Sparky’, eh? Hmm… Yeah, I can see it.”

Twilight wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know what Sunset was imagining in that head of hers, so she didn’t ask. She reached out for her straw and found herself sucking on air as she drained her cup down to its dregs.

“More tea?”

In answer, Twilight nodded and made a token effort to push her cup and saucer toward Sunset.

The cup lit up in the amaranth glow of Sunset’s magic and flew off toward the supplies she’d brought into the sunroom. This time, without doing battle against exhaustion, Twilight watched the brewing process. It was uncanny how much she moved like Celestia in the act. She didn’t even bring the water to an instant boil, instead slowly warming it back up to temperature, just like Celestia would. Even the mere act of pouring the water had a certain grace about it that reminded Twilight of Celestia.

Sunset placed a new cup of tea in front of Twilight, straw included.

“Thank you,” Twilight said, her voice just above a whisper and her eyes fixed upon the liquid. If she drank it, she knew it’d taste just like something Celestia would have made.

A chair floated into place beside Twilight, and Sunset sat herself upon it.

“Sunset?”

A moment passed before Sunset spoke. “The first time I saw Celestia,” she led, “I was only a little older than you were. It was the Hearth’s Warming Eve pageant for me. I pretended to be one of the extras’ foals and slipped in backstage.”

The ends of Twilight’s lips curled up into a small smile. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Hey, you and I both know brilliance shows from a young age.”

Twilight chuckled but opted not to make a snarky remark.

“Anyway, I hid between some crates as she walked right past. Once the coast was clear, I followed after, because obviously. Everypony got out of her way. Everypony followed her orders. Everypony looked upon her with admiration. To a poor little orphan filly in a city where status meant everything, she might as well have been a living dream.”

Twilight arched an eyebrow at Sunset. “Are you blaming her for your megalomania?”

“Shush. This is going somewhere.”

Twilight settled into a more comfortable position to listen on her chair. Sunset, in turn, took that as compliance and carried on with her story.

“Soon, Celestia went to raise the moon in privacy. I managed to get into her room first to watch and hid myself away, and you know Hearth’s Warming, the winter solstice, is Luna’s holiday, right? Well, Celestia started talking to the moon.”

A facehoof was the only appropriate response to that. “How much did you learn?” Twilight asked.

“Enough that it might as well have been full disclosure.”

Twilight shook her head. She knew how this story ended, but this was the first time anypony had told her any of the details. “And what did you do with this information?”

“Oh, I sat on it for years. The next time I met Celestia was at her school. For some reason, she came to speak with me before personally delivering my acceptance letter. She never explained what that was about.” Sunset turned a questioning look onto Twilight.

In turn, Twilight shrugged. “I can pull your records and see if anypony from your admissions committee is still alive.”

“Don’t go to too much trouble,” Sunset said with a dismissive wave of her hoof. “Anyway, at that point, I was eight, still impressionable, and kind of terrified out of my mind that the Princess Celestia, Goddess of the Sun, the immortal ruler of Equestria, had taken a personal interest in me. What was I going to do? Say I was sorry to hear about her sister?”

Twilight chortled at the thought. “Oh, I would love to have seen her reaction to that.”

After a moment of reflection, Sunset said, “Yeah, me too.”

The two shared a mischievous smirk before Sunset moved on.

“Celestia showed up from time to time. Never for very long, mind. Just enough to suck me into her mystique. Of course, I was a nopony. I needed an in, so I threw myself into my studies. Learning was the only thing I was good at.”

“Arguably, the best thing to be good at,” Twilight commented. “Through education, all doors open.”

Sunset understood. “Yeah, pretty much. It wasn’t just magic I studied, either. I picked up anything and everything the world had to offer me. But it wasn’t enough. If I wanted to move forward, I had to make an opportunity for myself.”

“Cadance?” Twilight asked. She already knew the answer, but it never hurt to make sure.

“Eventually,” Sunset replied. “I tried a few other things first, but that’s a different story.” She shook her head at whatever her younger self had gotten up to. “Celestia was not happy with the games I played with Cadance. Oh, she was subtle about it at first, but her message came across loud and clear. The more we butted heads, the more I learned from her. To make a long story short, it became easier in the end to welcome me to the team than to get rid of me.

“After that, life was everything I’d ever wanted. I was well-educated, wealthy, magically powerful, influential, and best of all, Celestia warmed up to me once I broached the subject of her sister. I mean, she knew what I was about. We both knew exactly what I was doing. But she needed somepony to talk to so much that she didn’t care, and I…”

Sunset paused to brush a tear from her eye. “Twilight, you’re probably the only pony who understands. I took everything she would give me, even when it was just suspicion or anger. I love her as much as I hate her. She’s the mother I never had.”

Despite her best attempt, Twilight couldn’t blink her own tears away. “I…” She swallowed. “I love my mother, but you’re right. I get it. Celestia is always who I went to for advice, for comfort, for…mom stuff.”

“You got her administrative skills.”

Twilight laughed. “Yeah? You got her social skills.”

“You got her obnoxious sense of responsibility.”

“You got her mischievous side,” Twilight fired back.

Sunset went with, “You got her workaholic attitude.”

“And you got her – her…” Twilight’s breath hitched. “–her…” Her vision grew blurry.

When had her laughter turned into sobs?

Sunset wrapped an arm around Twilight’s barrel, and they leaned into each other.





Cadance had known the moment her other aunt returned to Equus by the disappearance of the Mare in the Moon. She’d turned her gaze toward Ponyville and the Everfree only a short flight from home. She hadn’t expected to see anything, but the magical light show occurring deep within the forest could only come from one source: her aunts were fighting. She dearly hoped anypony else who noticed shrugged it off as some weird magic of the Everfree.

The foals, even though they’d known what was happening tonight, hadn’t caught on until much later after the battle had ended one way or another. She’d given it away with her fidgeting and fretting. Worse, she didn’t have any answers for them. As far as she was concerned, no news was bad news, but she kept that to herself.

And then Shining came home. She got wind of it first thanks to one of the staff and managed to slip away from the foals. If she had to deliver news of Celestia’s defeat and banishment or worse, then best she get her own devastation under control first.

Shining was a sight. Physically, he looked well, but something had heavily taxed his spirit. He wore an almost angry look about him combined with a defeated slump to his posture. He didn’t need to say a word for Cadance to know that Celestia had lost. When their eyes met, he turned away. Had that been shame she saw there?

Without hesitation, Cadance drew close. She placed a hoof on Shining’s cheek and gently guided him to look her in the eyes once more. “What happened?”

“We lost.”

Cadance felt her jaw tighten. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t already expected, but it still hit hard. There was no time to grieve just yet, however. Her love needed her to be strong for just a few moments longer.

“Twily called me in, and I didn’t get to do anything.”

That happened around Twilight. It was nothing new. Cadance knew there must be something deeper troubling Shining. “It was never the plan for you to,” she said comfortingly.

“Nothing went to plan,” Shining retorted. “She should have pulled me out of the mirror to wield it.”

The mirror? Cadance shook her head. It sounded familiar for some reason, but she could ask about that later. “Okay. So why didn’t she?”

Through gritted teeth, Shining bit out, “She didn’t trust me to do my job.”

Cadance winced. There was the matter with Flash, as she understood it, but Twilight was no stranger to Shining’s brotherly protectiveness. Surely she could have seen past that in an emergency. “I’ll talk with her later. She–”

“No, don’t.” Once again, Shining turned his eyes away from Cadance’s. “I get why she did it. First Flash. Then I let a mere thief humiliate me and the entire guard.”

Without giving anything away, Cadance said, “Eclipse is no mere thief.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Shining said dismissively. “You know why she didn’t trust me?”

Cadance cautiously shook her head.

“Because Sunset bucking Shimmer showed up out of nowhere to be the big damn hero and she thought she’d have to waste time browbeating me into working with the…” Shining trailed off when he noticed the unimpressed look Cadance sent his way. “–er, the morally compromised sorceress.”

Given the state of things, Cadance supposed that would do. She needed to find a good opportunity sometime soon to let him know she’d adopted Sunset into the family without him making the connection between her and Eclipse. Maybe tonight’s events could make for a good excuse once she heard the details.

“You know what the worst part is?” Shining went on once he realized Cadance was giving him a pass. “Some no name, untrained filly from the middle of nowhere saved the day in the end.”

Cadance gasped. Had she misread the entire situation? “Then Auntie…”

Shining swore under his breath. “I’m sorry. I misspoke. The princess is in exile on the moon.”

Oh. Oh, that hurt to have her hopes raised and then shattered so completely. Cadance swallowed the empty, twisting sensation threatening to devour her for the moment. “Would that filly happen to be Sweetie Belle, your dear sister’s protégé?”

It took a few seconds before Shining slammed his head against both of his forehooves. “I’m an idiot.”

Cadance offered Shining a weak smile, not that he could see it, and said, “Yes, but you’re our lovable idiot.”

“I got shuffled through the mirror so fast after I arrived, and then there was this other Twilight. I didn’t even think…”

Okay, now Cadance officially needed a real explanation of exactly what had gone down in the Everfree Forest tonight. When she pressed for details, however, she didn’t get them.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have the time right now. I only stopped by to give you the news. I need to get control of the castle before this mess of a regime change unfolds.”

“Then you can tell me on the way,” Cadance countered. “I…” She breathed deep as she’d taught Twilight so long ago. Getting through today would be rough, but she could do it. “I should be there to welcome my other aunt, shouldn’t I?”

This was, quite obviously, an argument Shining wasn’t going to win, so he didn’t even try. They briefly debated whether they should tell the foals before heading out and ultimately decided to wait until at least one of them had the time to stay with them afterward.





As Twilight slowly and reluctantly found her way back to the waking world, she first noticed the sheets. She didn’t usually go for silk, but she had enough familiarity with the material to tell its high quality. After that, the mattress felt strange. She’d grown so used to sleeping on clouds. This was a featherbed, she suspected. The whole arrangement was also quite a bit larger than usual, judging by how the tension in the sheets distributed under her weight.

In conclusion, this was not her bed.

What was she even doing in a bed? Wasn’t she supposed to be doing something kind of important? What day even was it?

With a groan, Twilight rolled into a semi-upright ball. Her magic felt wrong, so she avoided using it at least until her brain woke up enough to let her think properly. As such, she rubbed the rheum from her eyes with just a hoof.

There was no sunlight to burn Twilight’s eyes once she finally opened them, only the soft glow of moonlight peeking in through the windows of, upon inspection, what looked like a guest bedroom in some noble’s manor. She shuffled out of bed to get a better look at her surroundings. The view outside of rolling plains made it obvious she wasn’t in Canterlot, however, so that meant she had to be in some countryside estate.

And then Twilight’s gaze drew up to the moon, a shining pale orb in the sky with only a few craters visible to the naked eye. Against the backdrop of a starry sky unafflicted with light pollution, it made for a beautiful sight. She wished she had her telescope close at hoof, but she suppose she could just gaze upon the constellations and the Mare in the…

Where was the Mare in the Moon?

Twilight blinked, lost for a moment, and then it all came rushing back: the Elements, the mirror, the heartsong. Celestia was gone, exiled to the moon. She’d cried herself to sleep in Sunset’s embrace, mourning the loss of a pony who’d been as much of a mother to her as her own. It’d all been too much. Even if Celestia wasn’t gone forever, she was still gone.

With a heavy sigh, Twilight tore her eyes back to the here and now. What was done was done. She could only move forward.

For now, that meant finding Sunset. Twilight set to wandering the corridors of the manor. The moon was full tonight, so unless she’d slept longer than she thought or Luna’s freedom had changed everything she knew about the lunar cycle, she needed to get to the Summer Sun Celebration in Ponyville.

Twilight stopped a few times during her journey to examine the artwork on display. She didn’t have a good eye for paintings and the like, but a few gave her a vague sense of familiarity. None of them were from one of Eclipse’s heists, it seemed, which meant they weren’t trophies. Did that mean Sunset actually had a taste for fine art or were they just the expected decorations meant to impress? It could be both, she supposed.

Eventually, Twilight found Sunset in a study sitting on a rug beside a roaring fireplace. At her side was a scroll with its wax seal still unbroken. Another, this one unrolled, levitated in front of her for a moment before she tossed it into the fire.

“Do your nefarious plans proceed according to your design?”

Sunset chuckled. “It wasn’t that kind of letter.” She held up the other as Twilight approached and said, “Here. This arrived for you while you were asleep.”

After checking the reflexive impulse to pluck the scroll from the air with her injured magic, Twilight sat down beside Sunset and said, “Would you mind? I’m not feeling very dexterous right now.”

“Ah. Right. Sure.” However distracted Sunset seemed, she still broke the seal and unrolled the scroll for Twilight before passing it along.

Twilight’s heart skipped a beat when she saw the flowing script and instantly recognized the mare behind it.

‘Twilight,

‘I apologize for how long it took to send this, but I needed some time to compose myself. Not to put too fine a point on it, but seeing my sister again was difficult. Even now, I have yet to get my thoughts in order.

‘But I write not to burden you with my problems. Rather, I only wanted to assure you of my well being. The moon is not the most inviting of places, but I will make the most of it. I can conjure what I need for the most part, although I would appreciate it if you could find a way to send me a collection of seeds to work with. I confess that I did not think to bring any. The moon could certainly use some grass at the very least. Perhaps some tastefully sculpted hedges as well.

‘Luna has yet to visit. I doubt she will anytime soon, but she’ll be ready someday. Take care of her for me until then. I know you two can rule well together.

‘Celestia’

Twilight set the letter down after reading it for the third time. It curled at the ends, and she gently, carefully, delicately rolled it back into a scroll. She then set it aside far away from the fire in front of her. And speaking of, she eyed the shriveling, crumbling remains of the scroll Sunset had thrown into the fire earlier. Beside her, the mare in question had lain her head down on the rug curled away from her, her letter, and the fire.

Sunset must have sensed the attention. “You look a lot better now than when I first brought you in.” Not that she could see that at this precise moment, of course.

It was a deflection, but Twilight went along with it. “Yeah. The rest helped, as did…” Maybe it was best not to reopen that wound too soon. “Thanks for earlier.”

Sunset made a grunt that served as a rough approximation of recognition and acceptance. “I thought about dumping you on Cadance.”

“I wasn’t that bad,” Twilight protested.

Yet Sunset simply said, “No, you were.” A few moments later, as though uncertain, she revealed, “That’s why I kept you.”

Twilight hardly needed to ask, “What do you mean?” for Sunset to know she wanted an explanation.

“You were going all numb. I wasn’t sure if she could break you out of it before it really set in. Celestia buried herself in her work for centuries. The last thing anypony needs is you following her example.”

“Oh.” In hindsight, Twilight could recognize the signs of that in herself. She’d just wanted to get through the night, get through the Summer Sun Celebration, get Luna’s reign up and running smoothly, get everypony’s lives back in order, get on with things. “I see your point. Thanks again.” It couldn’t have been easy for Sunset to open up to her of all ponies.

“What else are sisters for?”

Sisters? Did Sunset mean that? Did she truly mean it not just as adoptive sisters-in-law? It was a big change over the course of a few weeks from virtual strangers to family. “Is that what we are?”

Sunset shrugged. “I think that’s up to you. You’re the one who had the hots for me.”

A fierce blush erupted onto Twilight’s face. She sputtered out half-formed words that sounded more like clarifications in her mind than denials. Her attraction had been purely intellectual, after all!

“Is ‘lab partners’ a euphemism for something?”

It took Twilight a moment or two to understand where that question had come from. “Oh,” she said once she did. “I, um, well, maybe? I didn’t ask. I don’t think I want to. Spoilers, you know? Um, but our age difference is really obvious on that side, so probably not? Or not yet?” That would matter a lot less once they hit their first century. “I don’t know. I mean, if there’s a deterministic algorithm across parallel universes for that sort of thing–”

Sunset’s laughter prompted Twilight to snap her mouth shut and stop letting every rambling word that entered her head out of it. She really was terrible at this sort of thing.

“Okay, okay. Safe topic,” Sunset said, still laughing. “Are you going to be okay with that student of yours?”

“Hey! No poaching! She’s mine.” After what Sweetie Belle had done, even if it’d only given them a more graceful loss, there was no way Twilight would pass her education off to anypony else, not even Sunset, or Celestia, or Luna.

“Not interested,” Sunset replied. “But you looked worried earlier. What gives?”

“Ah, well…” Twilight ran a hoof through her mane. “I can’t sing to save my life. I know almost nothing about music theory. I know it’s mostly applied mathematics, but I don’t have the…spark of creativity, I guess.”

Sunset made a long, “Ah,” of understanding. “Were you expecting her to have completely unbound magic like us?”

“No. I just didn’t expect it to be tied up in a subject I have zero skill in.” That was just her luck lately, wasn’t it? Twilight heaved a sigh. “I’m still going to teach her theory, obviously, but I’m not going to neglect what she can do with cutie mark assistance. I’m acquainted with a musician who might be able to help. If not, I guess I’ll go shopping for a tutor.”

“Just don’t screw her up. We don’t need a modern siren waltzing around like she owns the place.”

Twilight suppressed a shudder at the thought. It was a very good thing she’d found Sweetie Belle before somepony with ill intent had. The Sirens, the greatest spellsingers of the Classical Era around whom all modern myths had likely evolved – in some ways, they’d been more dangerous than even an alicorn. According to Star Swirl, they’d become a walking heartsong, unstoppable and irresistible. The world had reordered itself around them with but a verse to suit their desires, and they’d enslaved everypony within their reach to fulfill their every whim.

“She’ll be fine,” Twilight said. “She’s a good filly. I’d be more worried about her and those friends of hers finding a way to accidentally release Discord.”

Sunset facehoofed. “You’re joking. All of the stories I heard in Ponyville are actually true?”

“Probably, yeah.” As it happened, there was rarely a need to exaggerate the Crusaders’ escapades to draw an audience. “Those three are a little bundle of wandering chaos.”

With a snort, Sunset said, “Good luck, then.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”

The sudden chiming of a grandfather clock reminded them of the time.

“Are you ready to face the future?” Sunset asked.

Twilight sighed. “As I’ll ever be.”
> Chapter Thirty - The Solstice (Part Four)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Princess Twilight Sparkle conjured another blank journal. It was time to begin the next volume: Hamartia.





After teleporting away from the Old Castle, Lyra didn’t stop running from the nightmare until she made it to Canterlot. Once there, she immediately headed straight toward the government-issued apartment Bon Bon used whenever she needed to stay the night in the capital for her real job. She’d shown it to Lyra when they’d last come to town just in case.

It was empty.

Lyra didn’t panic. Of course it was empty! Why wouldn’t it be? Bon Bon had to work through the night to manage her branch of the EIS during this upheaval, so of course she wouldn’t be here. No, she’d be somewhere in the castle. That was where Lyra needed to go. How she was going to get inside, however, needed a bit of thought.

Then again, Lyra would feel very stupid if she didn’t try the simplest thing possible if it worked. She teleported across town and walked right up to the main castle gate, which was closed at this time of night while the rest of Canterlot celebrated their little holiday. The expected contingent of guards stood watch. She simply told them her name and asked to be let inside to see her marefriend.

It worked!

As the gate slowly opened, Lyra asked, “You’re really going to just let me in?” It was hard to believe this had actually worked. She’d been ready to try to force her way through had it failed. Had she started hallucinating or something? Was this a trap? Had the Royal Guard been compromised?

But no, the guard said, “Captain Armor cleared you for visits a few weeks ago. Don’t cause any trouble and you’re free to wander the castle. Within reason.”

That was convenient, and Lyra wasn’t going to question it any further. She had better things to do and shot off inside as soon as she could. Asking around for directions eventually sent her underground to the front entrance of the EIS’s headquarters. It was an unremarkable door with an appropriate sign and a mare seated at a desk just beside it. There she encountered a foe she did not have the right state of mind for right now: bureaucracy.

“As I said already, Miss, I can neither confirm nor deny that a Bon Bon or a Sweetie Drops works for our organization. Please have a nice day and do not come back.”

Lyra’s eye twitched at the receptionist’s response. She felt power rush to her horn. It’d been a long time since she’d used force for anything other than self-defense, but even in the form of a unicorn, long buried habits were starting to rise to the surface.

“Listen, you no-name bottom feeder.” Lyra drew herself up to her full height and radiated magic in ways she hadn’t in years. “I am a very powerful sorceress who happens to generously share her bed with one of your boss’s bosses. Around my neck is an ancient artifact of untold power. I’ve just come from a field mission with the archmage, the pony at the top of the top. You have one last chance to open that door before I blow it down.”

Said door opened with a soft click. Both Lyra and the obstacle turned toward it in surprise.

From beyond the entrance, Bon Bon appeared. “I’ve got this,” she idly said to the secretary as she passed the mare’s desk. She stepped forward and pulled Lyra into a warm, loving nuzzle. “Hey. You’re early.”

Lyra couldn’t give any good reason for feeling safe within Bon Bon’s embrace. Between the two of them, it was obvious who was the more polished instrument of death. Maybe safe wasn’t the right word. Maybe it was that she felt comforted, and that was close enough to confuse the two emotions. Either way, she’d finally found an island of peace within the storm.

Bon Bon reached up with a hoof and gently ran it through Lyra’s mane. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Lyra shook her head against Bon Bon’s neck. She’d known alicorns were strong, the strongest living beings on Equus. But when the Elements had connected her to her fellow bearers, a flawed team though they were, she’d felt the power behind them. It’d been like nothing she’d ever imagined. If Princess Luna could swat that aside like a gnat, not even a fly, then she was a far greater threat than everything that had ever clawed its way up from the abyss combined. Each and every living thing on Equus was very lucky alicorns had a mind and morals and liked to build civilizations instead of exploiting or smashing them.

Something of Lyra’s train of thought must have slipped out somehow, because Bon Bon made a gentle shushing sound. Accompanying a loving nuzzle, she said, “I have some time for myself right now. Why don’t we go to my apartment and relax together. Just the two of us. Does that sound good?”

Without a word, Lyra nodded.





It came as no surprise, but seeing the state Celestia had left her office in really made reality set in. She’d neatly organized everything and done so much more. There were helpful little notes explaining where to find something; lists of what needed to be done and when; ideas for where to take Equestria over the next few seasons, years, decades, and even centuries; dossiers on who to trust for what and how far; an amusing attempt at documenting Equestria’s secrets in code with ‘ask Twilight’ scribbled over it in large, stylized letters; and so much more besides. Where she found the time to do it all would remain one of life’s great mysteries.

Cadance wasn’t ashamed to admit that she’d finally broken down and cried for what felt like hours as she went through everything. No pony could ever accuse Celestia of not preparing for any eventuality, but with this mountain of evidence arrayed all in one place, neither could anypony deny that she’d not expected to come back from the Everfree.

But this was not the time to wallow away in grief. Cadance gathered up what records she needed to start preparing the uninitiated for the shift in power. It’d almost caused a bit of a relapse when she realized Celestia had unearthed and gathered all of the dusty old scrolls governing the diarchy into one place. But she powered through it and set out to find Raven Inkwell, Celestia’s seneschal and trusted adviser. Raven more or less knew the full story and, if she could weather the blow from the news, would be of great assistance.

The mare had barely reacted. She’d looked up from whatever she’d been working on, said, “Yes, I expected as much,” and then passed off a small pile of notes on what needed to be done. Cadance, however, couldn’t help but notice that her eyes had the slightest tinge of fading red to them.

Most of the castle’s night shift had the day off to attend the festival. Even so, the skeleton crew were already at work preparing a proper welcome home for Luna. Thanks to Celestia, all of Equestria knew she had a sister who was due to return today. She’d conveniently left out the part where she would not, however. Without knowing what story Twilight and Luna intended to peddle to the world, all Cadance could do to prepare everypony for the shock was to let them know that they’d had word of the ‘good news’.





As much as Sweetie Drops hated to leave Lyra alone, she’d done her best to comfort her marefriend and now had to report what she’d learned about the conflict between the royal sisters. The more warning the EIS had, the better prepared they could be for Princess Luna’s arrival. The fewer bases they had to cover, the less thin their resources had to be stretched.

Along the way to the director’s office, Sweetie Drops bumped into first Espionage and then Spitfire. The former had a report of his own from Queen Chrysalis, and the latter had one from the Wonderbolts. Given that all three of them had come in at roughly the same time, they probably all had roughly the same amount of information. It would have been helpful if Lyra had stuck around longer after the Elements of Harmony had failed, but this would be enough.

“Let me guess,” Spitfire began. “Nightmare Moon?”

Espionage nodded. “I’ve been listening in on the hive mind.”

“It’s not Nightmare Moon.” Now that Sweetie Drops had a firsthoof account, namely Lyra’s, she could clear up that misunderstanding amongst the EIS without exposing their new princess’s dreamwalking. “My source told me it was Princess Luna, fully sane, who came back.”

Spitfire asked, “Really!” in a tone that said she wanted to believe it but couldn’t quite force herself to without more of an explanation.

“Yeah. You didn’t hear this from me, but apparently, the princess went off on a monologue and was just too embarrassed to take back the whole Nightmare Moon–night eternal thing at the time.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, that got a snicker from the other two. A certain tension they’d been wearing since the start of all this faded from withers. If this embarrassing bit of information ever came back to haunt her, Sweetie Drops would point her hoof straight at Twilight. That was who she’d gotten it from, after all. If it wasn’t true, that wasn’t her fault or problem.

As they arrived at Incog’s office, they each adopted a more solemn and professional expression. They delivered their reports, and it wasn’t long before the director decided to call another general meeting of the department heads.





Chrysalis idly wondered why the royal couple had left without keeping the nymphs abreast of current events. Nothing good ever came of withholding personal information like that. Offspring, in her vast experience, had an infuriating habit of finding out things they weren’t supposed to at the worst time possible and held petty grudges.

Without a hint of shame or regret, Chrysalis informed Ocellus that the battle had already broken out and ended with, as far as her spies could tell at a distance, Nightmare Moon’s victory. It wasn’t the result she’d hoped for, but she would see how events played out before deciding on a course of action.

“Mother? Spike says there is no Nightmare Moon.”

Curious, Chrysalis asked for a more information from Ocellus. She, in turn, passed the inquiry along to her friend while Chrysalis listened in over the hive mind. Spike proved reluctant to part with the details, but he gave enough to paint a clear picture for someling who’d heard stories of the lost princess’s fabled abilities.

So, the little sister has been dreamwalking through her banishment. Interesting. I wonder how much support she’s managed to drum up for herself over the centuries. Between that and the archmage’s apparent approval, this may turn into a smooth transition of power.

If that was the case, then as far as Chrysalis was concerned, it would be business as usual for her. It may take some time for Princess Luna to warm up to the idea of a massive changeling hive living in her kingdom as it had for Princess Celestia, but Twilight would surely temper her behavior. One did not upset the princessmaker without expecting headaches all day every day in return.

A presence in the hive mind pulled Chrysalis from her thoughts. It waited patiently at the edge of her mind, requesting her attention but not intruding so much as to be annoying or demanding. Considering its source, this was not an emergency, then, but the information was considered important. “Yes, Pharynx?” As the commander of her personal guard, his only fault was an unfortunate relation to the hive’s greatest traitor.

“I have news from my brother.”

It did, however, make him good for passing information to and from Thorax when Chrysalis didn’t feel like taking the burden of suffering the traitor’s presence upon herself.

“The moon princess is sane. His source is one of the Element bearers, Lyra Heartstrings.”

“Old news,” Chrysalis replied. “If only by a few minutes.” It did surprise her, though, that one of the Element bearers had already made it out of the Everfree for long enough for that information to spread. She would have thought either Princess Luna or Twilight would have kept them close after the battle. “Did she say anything else useful?”

“Unfortunately not, Your Majesty. She left right after the Elements failed before the actual fighting occurred.”

Well, that was unexpected, but it hardly mattered.

“We do know, however, that Princess Luna assisted in healing the bearers after the castle roof came down on top of them before the fighting broke out.”

Oh? Chrysalis dismissed Pharynx with a feeling of recognition for performing his job up to expectations. So the real Princess Luna is just like the one in my mother’s stories. How very interesting.





A small number of the Royal Guard had gone to Ponyville yesterday to provide additional security for the princess this night. A not insignificant fraction had left with Shining to hunt down a lead on Eclipse and hadn’t yet returned. Those who’d headed into the Everfree before him had been debriefed and sworn to secrecy already. But the massive gathering in front of him upon their training grounds, many of whom had been awoken and dragged out of bed, constituted the vast majority of the guard. This was a meeting that had to happen, and it had to happen before the new reigning princess arrived.

The Royal Guard was meant to keep Canterlot Castle safe, to defend their princess from would-be assailants, and act as her sword and shield in times of trouble. Perhaps other agencies had largely supplanted them from that last point over time, but they’d served their princess loyally and dutifully nonetheless.

But the princess was no longer their princess.

This would not be pleasant even if it went over well.

Shining stood atop a small platform so all could see and hear him. After one last mental run through of the main points he intended to hit, he raised a hoof for silence. This was not to be a military matter, so he refused to put them in the wrong mindset with an order. Then, at last, he addressed the crowd.

“My friends, my comrades, those who have dedicated their lives to the defense and protection of the crown.” Shining saw that he had their rapt attention now, even those who’d looked like they’d want nothing more than to return to bed mere moments before. They all knew he never got flowery with his speeches. “I return to you with news. As Princess Celestia informed us all, she does indeed have a sister. Princess Luna has returned to Equestria.”

It took a will of iron to not even clench his teeth at the joyous cheering that erupted, but Shining kept himself from reacting. They were all just happy for their princess. In another world, this would have been the best response he could have hoped for. Once the crowd finally quieted, he spoke again. 

“It is with a heavy heart, however, that I must inform you Princess Celestia has left us.”

Absolute silence fell.

“My sister has not yet made me privy to the full details, but suffice it to say, Princess Celestia will likely not return to us within our lifetimes.” Shining paused to allow himself to breathe and to let his audience absorb that shocking information. “Equestria will soon change in ways it has not in the last millennium. The coming years will be rough as we all adjust, but Equestria will endure and prosper as it ever has.”

And now came the difficult part. Shining wondered how many would leave and how many all these lies would trick into staying.

“When I took my oath, just as each and every one of you, I swore myself to my princess, to Princess Celestia, to serve her faithfully amongst the Royal Guard as a member of her Day Guard. Yes, that is our official designation. It’s been buried in paperwork and the Night Guard’s nonexistence for the past thousand years, but it’s true.

“And now you have a choice. In Princess Celestia’s absence, the Day Guard is unnecessary. If you wish to resign, you will be released from your oath with all due honors. For those of you who wish to remain, we will be reforming the Night Guard for the first time in a thousand years. The choice is entirely yours.”

The crowd remained silent for the longest time. Shining hadn’t given them instructions yet on how to go about following through on whatever decision they made, but he’d gotten caught up in studying their faces. With few exceptions, nopony knew quite what to think.

Then Spearhead, his friend, asked, “What about you, Captain?”

“Me?” It took a moment for Shining to reign his thoughts back in and process the question. “My sister is staying on, so so am I.”

Waves of whispers rushed through the assembled guards. Even those who disliked Twilight on a personal level loved her as the archmage.

“Will you still be our captain?” Shielded Strike asked next.

In all honesty, Shining had assumed that would be the case without ever examining that assumption. It occurred to him now that he didn’t actually know. It was entirely possible Princess Luna would want to pick somepony she personally trusted and got along with well. There were benefits to preserving the existing power structure, but the Night Guard was also a personal matter. He didn’t know which way the scales would fall for her.

“I’m uncertain,” Shining ultimately replied. “I’ve yet to speak with Her Highness myself. It would be her decision.”

A voice Shining was less familiar with asked, “Would Her Excellency accept us into the Evening Guard?”

That was an alternative Shining hadn’t given any thought to for good reason. “Almost certainly not,” he said, “considering she categorically denies such an organization exists.” That got some very light laughter despite the heavy mood. “The work they do is certainly exciting, and I appreciate your desire to make her gang of misfits more respectable, but she’s always turned away volunteers in the past. I wouldn’t put much stock in it when weighing your options for your future.”

When no more questions proved forthcoming, Shining delivered his final instructions as Captain of the Day Guard. “If you wish to resign, you can find me in my office. You have until Princess Luna comes to ask you for your oaths to make your decision.”

As Shining moved to depart, it started with his friends. They called out that they’d stick things out with him. One by one after that until it devolved into a great cacophony of noise, other guards declared their intent to stay. It probably wasn’t all of them, but it was more than enough to avoid being underponied.

There was one problem that Shining wished weren’t a problem, however. Amongst the names he heard – Princess Celestia’s, Twilight’s, his own – he never once heard Princess Luna’s. It didn’t come as a surprise, but he desperately hoped the mare in question didn’t find out and take it personally. Twilight had informed him only tonight that Nightmare Moon had never been real, but he had his doubts.





“Excuse me, are you Mayor Mare?”

The mare in question turned from the half dozen ponies demanding her attention to spare a few seconds for Moon Dancer. “Yes, what do you–” The look of realization set in. “Oh! Your Excellency, welcome to Ponyville. We weren’t expecting you and the princess for some time yet. How can I help you?”

“Actually,” Moon Dancer began, “I’m here to help you. Archmage Twilight will be returning to her post this morning, and Index Code is occupied with matters of state elsewhere, so I thought I’d stand in for her.”

The mayor breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much. Things are getting crazy here. Are you at all familiar with the situation?”

“Not at all.” For what it was worth, Moon Dancer offered an apologetic smile. She didn’t know how much actual use she would be here, but she wanted to help as much as she could to ensure things went smoothly. They needed Princess Luna to make a good impression. A lot of Equestria’s movers and shakers had come here following after Princess Celestia but would get her sister instead. Starting off Princess Luna’s renewed reign with a mismanaged festival wouldn’t be a good look even if she wasn’t the one responsible for any aspect of it.

Mayor Mare hung her head but recovered quickly. “Very well then. We have a…situation at one of our local taverns. Are you familiar with Sunset Shimmer?”

Well, there was only one honest answer Moon Dancer could give. She eked out a very hesitant, “Yeeees?”

The mayor waved two ponies forward and instructed them to relay what they’d seen. Apparently, a blue unicorn, a dragon, a kirin, and Sunset Shimmer herself had walked into a bar. It sounded like the setup to a bad joke. In this case, the punchline was that the dragon and the kirin had gotten into a fight and set the place on fire, because of course they did. Sunset Shimmer, the wanted criminal, and the unicorn had put the flames out together and repaired the Prancing Pony while its proprietor scolded the two who’d caused the trouble.

Moon Dancer facehoofed. During the trip to Ponyville, Sweetie Belle had filled in some of the gaps in her knowledge about the situation. She had a feeling that the unicorn was Princess Luna, the Sunset Shimmer was the one from the human world, and the other ponies were some of her friends. It was one thing to hear that she’d been dreamwalking during her banishment; it was another thing entirely the witness the consequences play out firsthoof.

“I’ll take care of it,” Moon Dancer said, although she honestly had no idea what she could actually do. Maybe she could convince Princess Luna not to cause trouble right before her big moment or something. She rubbed a hoof against her forehead, trying to think of a good argument to make that could trump enjoying one’s freedom for the first time in a thousand years. She wished Princes Celestia were here. She would know exactly what to say. But that was kind of the crux of the issue, wasn’t it?

When Moon Dancer arrived at the tavern, she found that everypony who’d fled from it had already come back. Ponyville citizens were a resilient lot, it seemed. Not much fazed them. Inside, she found the troublesome group almost immediately. They’d occupied the centermost table visible as soon as a pony walked in. Seated around it were the three mares and the dragoness from the report, all of whom appeared to be having a rowdy good time.

This was the exact sort of social scene Moon Dancer had avoided her entire life. She hated these sorts of parties. Worse, only one of them was native to Equestria.

“Twilight?” the kirin asked. “Cousin! Come join us!”

And worst of all, with that one exception, they were all drunk.

The dragoness pulled Moon Dancer to the table and handed her an ale, insisting that she finally share a real drink with them for once. Across the table, the unicorn who was definitely Princess Luna smirked and made absolutely no attempt to help her explain that she wasn’t Twilight. If she hadn’t already been strongly disinclined to like the princess for what she’d done to Princess Celestia, who Moon Dancer had been honored to count amongst her few friends, that would have settled it.

This was going to be a long night after an already long night.





The audience before her had eyes and ears for nopony else.

“Watch and be amazed as the Great and Powerful Trixie saws herself in half!”

She could feel their rapt attention upon her every move. It was what she lived for. She loved being the center of every crowd.

Sometimes it was best to indulge in the classics. Trixie’s act generally tended toward the theatrical. She filled it with illusions to boggle the mind and delight the eyes. But stage magic had its own charm from time to time. Not that she didn’t have her own twist on said tricks, if indeed they could be called that, being far more greater and more powerfuler than any garden variety magician.

As she’d proclaimed, so she did. It was amazing what one could do with real magic and not foalish parlor tricks.

The crowd applauded as both halves of Trixie took a bow. She then put herself back together and moved on to the next part of her show.

Trixie hated that she was just going through the motions.

It was all Luna’s fault. Trixie couldn’t get that pitying and pitiful smile from their brief reunion out of her head. She was just fine on her own! Her life had been perfect until Twilight Sparkle had come along with Laughter, and even that was Luna’s fault, really. Twilight Sparkle never would have descended from her ivory tower if not for Luna. Everything was her fault.

When Trixie finished her last act for the night, she packed up her wagon and prepared to skip town the moment she got paid. She’d even considered passing on the hefty bag of bits owed to her just to get out of this miserable backwater before moonset. The last thing she wanted to deal with right now was Luna hunting her down for a word about how hypocritically sorry she was about everything but how she would have made the same choices again anyway.

By the moon, Trixie needed a drink before she turned somepony into a rabbit.

The walk through town became a twisted nightmare. Her fans wouldn’t stop getting in her way with their adoring praise, and the fact that she couldn’t enjoy it only made the fire within burn hotter. How dare Luna do this to her! If she couldn’t even bask in the adulation of her fans, what point was there to life?

In hindsight, going to the Prancing Pony was an obvious mistake. Trixie had chosen her wine supplier out of habit. She knew the mare who ran the place and, being the Generous and Successful Trixie, preferred to patronize said establishment.

But it was Luna who had introduced them.

Trixie didn’t realize her mistake until she noticed the dragon in the tavern. It was Ember. Autumn was here, too, and the pair were engaged in a hoof-wrestling contest of all things while the simpleton spectators surrounding their table cheered them on. Berry Punch stood on standby with a barrel of water. Beside them sat Sunny and a blue unicorn who could only be Luna herself. For some reason, Moon Dancer was there as well, but it made some amount of sense. The nerds had gathered.

Trixie spun on her hooves and marched right out of the tavern. She was done with Ponyville. She would return for her pay another day if she absolutely had to.





Without magic for the moment, Twilight held Magic in her hooves. It was a reminder of her failure, but even if the call weren’t messing with her head, tossing it aside would feel wrong. It’d done its best for her. She couldn’t exactly walk around wearing it in her daily life, though. It’d be impossible to pass it off as anything less than a crown in the best of circumstances. With Celestia gone, her crown stolen, Luna’s ‘missing’, and who knew what other social factors Twilight was oblivious to, she couldn’t casually wear it in public without making a very significant fashion statement.

But she really wanted to.

An idea came to Twilight. Just putting Magic around her leg didn’t ignite the connection forged between them, but what about her neck? The band was flexible enough to fit and possessed a narrow enough radius to hold itself in place. The other Elements were necklaces. It’d look weird, sure, but Rarity could probably find a way to make it work for her. It was worth a try.

Sadly, no such luck.

Twilight heaved a heavy sigh and pulled Magic from her neck. She set it atop the miscellaneous odds and ends that had fallen out of her bag of holding while she’d slept for later retrieval. Then she nestled Celestia’s letter inside the band so that it might stand watch over such a priceless treasure.

At the door, Twilight turned one last look back upon her Element before she left. Thank you for trying. I’m sorry for calling you secretly evil even though you probably are.

The distinct impression of a mental eye roll came back from Magic, but there was gratitude and apology buried underneath it as well. Twilight didn’t think she’d ever get used to that strange form of communication. It felt somewhat like how she imagined a glimpse into a changeling hive mind would. Perhaps they used a similar basis for their magic. It’d be an interesting side project to look into in ten years when she finally had some free time again after settling Luna into her throne.

And on that depressing thought, Twilight returned to Sunset in the study beside the fireplace and announced that she was ready to go. Sunrise wasn’t too far off. She needed to be in Ponyville to explain why Celestia had shrunk, dyed her coat blue, and put glitter in her mane.

Sunset lazily lifted her head from the floor. “You sure you want me to come with? I don’t think I need to tell you walking around with me is a bad look.”

“I don’t care.” Even if she did, Twilight needed somepony she trusted to protect her and cast spells for her. She’d rarely – no, she’d never felt more vulnerable than she did right now, and nopony could be allowed to have any reason to suspect she’d been hurt fighting Luna. “I’ll just say Celestia pardoned you after your actions tonight.” Who would challenge her word on that? “Last acts should be respected.”

“Pardoned!” Sunset scoffed. “If we were different ponies, the world would have treated it as no more than a personal spat.”

While that had a certain amount of truth to it, Twilight rolled her eyes. “Yes, but you’re not. I’m sure Celestia gave you some variation of the speech about our actions having more weight behind them than regular ponies’.”

Sunset snorted. “How many times?”

A light blush formed on Twilight’s face. “I lost count. You?”

“Same.”

The pair exchanged a look before breaking into laughter. It felt so good to laugh. It made the loss clawing at the heart ache a little less.

Twilight brushed a tear from her eye as she petered out into giggles. “Just don’t get caught out as Eclipse,” she said. “I can’t wipe your record clean of that so easily.”

“Meh, it’s fine.” Sunset cracked her spine and legs, stretching as she got to her hooves. Then came a loud pop from her neck and a satisfied sigh. “Ole Sunbutt’s crown is a good heist to go out on. Anything after that is a step down. I’d intended to retire Eclipse soon anyway. It’s better if she disappears long before the empire comes back. Wouldn’t want anypony thinking those two events are correlated.”

Twilight couldn’t argue with that logic, although she would miss reading the new case files for Eclipse’s latest heist. Truly, this was the end of an era.

And that joke just made me sad…

“Hey. You’re okay to go, right? I can fill in for you if you’re not.”

Twilight forced a grateful smile onto her face. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.” Really, what did she have to complain about? Luna was great and would actively want to take work away from her. That was a big step up from Celestia dumping more responsibilities on her plate!

“If you say so, Sparkles. Ready?”

With a nod from Twilight, they were off.

The trip to Ponyville passed in a blur. They moved in a rapid string of teleports high up in the air clear of any stray pegasi. Without her usual enchantments, Twilight only occasionally managed to place herself on a mental map of Equestria before they made their next jump.

When they arrived, it was on the doorstep of Sunset’s Ponyville cottage. It was a cozy little place on the edge of town. But despite its location, the Summer Sun Celebration had spilled past its official boundaries into the neighborhood and beyond. A half-dozen different songs filled the air with ponies singing along to their favorite tune in an awful but spirited cacophony at this nexus point between performances. Ponies danced. Foals played. Spirits were high and freely passed around. A slew of games, both informal and organized, had popped up literally overnight since Twilight’s last visit.

If she’d accomplished nothing else over the past two moons, then her half-hearted oversight of the festival at least hadn’t made it anything less than a clear and obvious success. Twilight was willing to take her wins were she could right now.

Of course, being one of the most instantly recognizable ponies in Equestria, Twilight caused something of a commotion as she made her way through town. A few ponies from the generation before hers gave Sunset an odd look or two before shaking their heads dismissively. The young mare she was leaning on for support couldn’t be who they’d first thought. Sunset, after all, was far closer to her mother’s age, not her own.

Then again, the one stallion who’d run away screaming probably knew the truth. Unless Twilight had done something to him or somepony he knew that she didn’t remember. He had looked somewhat well dressed. Maybe he was part of the nobility? Well, either way, he didn’t really matter.

The first task on Twilight’s mental list was to check in with the mayor to give official notice that she’d arrived. With any luck, Mayor Mare would also be able to spread the word quickly for her that Sunset had clemency. It wasn’t hard to find the mayor, although the very confused look on her face upon their approach did warrant a bit of concern. The skittishness she displayed when she glanced at Sunset, of course, was simply to be expected.

After they got through the formalities and a quick, no-questions explanation about Sunset, Twilight asked, “Is something wrong?”

“Ah, well, it’s just, um…” Mayor Mare dared a hasty glance at Sunset, prompting the latter to roll her eyes. “I sent your regent after, er, well, a Sunset Shimmer only a little while ago.”

Twilight shared a look with Sunset.

“Let me guess,” Twilight began. “They’re at the Prancing Pony? With a dragon and a kirin?”

The surprise on Mayor Mare’s face was easy enough for anypony to see. “Yes, actually. How did you know?”

“You have a case of mistaken identity. The other one belongs to a circle of friends hailing from every corner of Equus.” Twilight stopped herself from adding ‘and beyond’. “Berry Punch happens to rank amongst their number. Don’t pay them any mind.”

“If you say so, Your Excellency.” Judging by Mayor Mare’s tone, Berry Punch would be in for a number of pointed questions after Ponyville quieted down. “Now if you don’t mind my asking, when can we expect the princess to arrive?”

Twilight couldn’t quite suppress her flinch. “Yes, about that. We have a bit of a change in program…”





Rarity wasn’t entirely certain how she’d gotten into this situation or how to feel about it. On her left sat the disguised form of the titanic, freshly victorious Princess Luna. On her right, her precious, darling little sister, Sweetie Belle, stood atop her seat so that she might be more than just a head poking above the tabletop with her friends gathered around her.

Legally speaking, which was the most cut and dry way to look at it not requiring any quaking of the knees, Sweetie Belle and her friends weren’t allowed inside of Berry Punch’s tavern at this time of night. On the other hoof, they were with Princess Luna, and that surely trumped mundane restrictions.

“Why can you not simply accept that it was an accident? Princess Celestia never meant to banish you for so long.”

Oh yes, and that was the other thing. Sweetie Belle was arguing with Princess Luna.

“There is no such thing as an accident with magical artifacts,” Princess Luna replied. There was some heat to her voice, but she’d been very indulgent so far with Sweetie Belle. “That’s one of the very first things a student of magic learns about them. If you touch them, if you take possession of them, if you use them, you assume responsibility for whatever happens. With Generosity around your neck, surely your mentor already taught you that.”

Sweetie Belle’s lips pressed into a very thin line. From that reaction alone, it was easy to tell that yes, Twilight had indeed imparted a lesson to that effect.

“That’s not entirely true,” Sweetie Belle said. “Manufacturers are responsible for defective artifacts they produce.”

A scoff from Princess Luna met the argument. “Do not confuse or conflate product liability with personal accountability. The gap between modern trinkets and devices of power is as wide as the ocean.”

It seemed that Sweetie Belle had no ready response this time but furrowed her brow in concentration. If Rarity hadn’t found herself too stiff to even nurse a glass of water, she would have advised Sweetie Belle that perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to get into a legal argument with somepony who’d helped write their laws or a philosophical debate with a pony whose very existence had probably shaped the formation of Equestria’s core moral values.

Then out of nowhere, Twilight said, “Stop picking on my protégé!” and threw a punch straight at Princess Luna’s face.

Princess Luna shifted to better take the blow when, to Rarity’s trained eye, she could have dodged it altogether or just as easily struck back. Twilight’s form, in all honesty, was simply dreadful. But she needn’t have bothered.

When Twilight’s hoof landed, she cried out in pain. Princess Luna didn’t even finch as she muttered, “Stupid earth pony magic,” under her breath. At her side appeared Sunset Shimmer, another controversial figure in this tale. She appeared to be letting Twilight lean on her perhaps more heavily now than when they’d walked into the tavern.

“Did that make you feel better?” Princess Luna asked blithely.

At a bitter mutter, Twilight replied, “It would have if you weren’t so durable.”

Princess Luna laughed as she took what must be described as a very unregal swig of her cider. “I’m glad we understand one another,” she said as she set her mug down. “Such a wonderful feeling, is it not? Shall we consider this justice?”

If there was some deeper meaning to that exchange than the obvious – and the sharp glare Twilight sent at the princess said there must be – neither of the mares involved elaborated.

A moment later, Princess Luna performed a double take. “Sunset Shimmer? How unexpected.”

“Yes, I can understand the sentiment.” The gaze of the mare in question had slipped to her seemingly older doppelgänger at the far end of the table laughing at something Ember had said. Apparently, she hadn’t noticed her pony counterpart’s arrival yet. “Sparkles insisted upon my presence.”

Princess Luna hummed in interest but didn’t pursue that matter any further. Instead, she cordially said, “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet such a fierce warrior. I hope we can spar together someday soon and finish our match.”

Sunset Shimmer made a noncommittal response, and that was the end of that for now.

“So? What brings you here?” Princess Luna asked Twilight. “Unless much has changed in my absence, by the position of the moon, I’m not running late.”

One might note that there were no windows by which Princess Luna could see the moon from her position. But Rarity had started to grow used to all the strange and wondrous things magic could do and didn’t question how she knew that.

“We ran out of stuff to do until you’re ready to introduce yourself,” Twilight replied.

“And so you came straight to me.” Princess Luna feigned delight. “I’m flattered. Are you here to take up your protégé’s position in our philosophical debate?”

Sweetie Belle very noticeably blushed under the attention she received upon that remark.

The moment passed, however, and Twilight said, “No, I’ll leave that to her. I wanted to know how you did that–” She mimed a strange sort of smacking motion with an even odder sound effect. “–to the Elements.”

“Ah. That’s a complicated matter better suited for less boisterous company. In short, I reached out through the Elements’ attack to disrupt their power. It’s somewhat similar to how I dreamwalk.”

For some reason, that made Twilight smirk triumphantly as though she’d solved some great puzzle.

“I wasn’t sure if it would work.”

“And if it hadn’t?” Sunset Shimmer asked curiously.

With a shrug of her shoulders, Princess Luna said, “Meh. I would have just resisted the attack, matching my power directly against their own. There was no need for anything more complex. It wasn’t well formed.”

Twilight, the poor dear, completely understandably heaved a defeated sigh.

“And the mirror?” Sunset Shimmer pressed. “How did you pull your consciousness out of it?”

Princess Luna directed a very hard stare at the mare, who refused to shrink under the weight of it. “That question I shall not answer. Whatever my sister has told you, you’d best keep to yourself.”

Rarity did not want to know what that was about. She didn’t want to recall Twilight’s interested reaction. She wanted precisely zero involvement, and so she forced herself to think about how exquisite Generosity looked with Sweetie Belle’s cutie mark on it. Really, that necklace was always good for a distraction if she let it be.

After that barely diverted debacle, the conversation shifted to a far more palatable topic which Rarity could actually contribute to: prepping Princess Luna for who she would meet this morning just before sunrise. Oh, she was already well aware of the current power structure in Equestria, of course – the who’s who and all that. No competent ruler would be caught dead without that information. But the finer points could make or break any good impression, and Rarity had plenty of harmless personal information about such ponies to provide. A little of it sprinkled into conversation would do wonders for her public perception.





It was nearly time for sunrise, and as much as Twilight hated to do this, the moment had come to inform the world of the new regime. She climbed up onto the stage with slow, solemn dignity as much to hide how weak she felt right now as to put on a show. Then, as she walked to the front dais projecting from the platform where Celestia would have raised the sun, she took note of the already gathered, seated, and notified notables’ expressions. They were, she was sure, trained from birth to hide their thoughts, but she managed to pick up a few clues here and there from a crack in the mask or from somepony who felt no need to conceal their emotions as she passed their row of seats.

Reactions were mixed. Some clearly relished the opportunities the change in power would create either in the political sphere or the economic sector. Some were obviously concerned about the shift, and they had every right to be. Celestia had ruled Equestria alone for a thousand years unchallenged, after all, and it had prospered under her for the vast majority of that time. Some didn’t particularly seem to care one way or another.

Then there were the reactions to Sunset’s presence. Unlike the average pony wandering around town, all of the politicians present had at least heard of her. Very, very few of them were happy to see her return to favor, which was just fine by Twilight, because that was largely how they’d treated her upon her ascension to the office of the archmage up until they’d realized that nothing they could do would remove her from power.

At the head of the stage upon the podium meant for Celestia, Twilight sent a surreptitious look back at Sunset. She couldn’t cast a single spell right now, but the last thing they needed was for that to become public gossip. Rather than give the game away and resort to a sound system, Sunset did the work for her and cast her voice out to her audience of thousands more than Ponyville had room for.

“Ponies of Equestria!”

The crowd slowly fell silent as Twilight drew their full attention.

“As any student of history will tell you, our physical records from the Harmonic Era are erratic at best. There are very few left living who remember that time, and most of them are dragons who had few interactions with our civilization during that period. The bulk of our body of knowledge concerning that era stems directly from somepony writing down something Princess Celestia offhoofedly mentioned.

“When she told me she had a sister, I was shocked as I imagine many of you were not even a week ago. It did not, however, surprise me that she kept that information to herself for centuries. I know I would hate to be separated from my family for so long. Worse, to be the pony who banished them? Even by accident? When we spoke, it was obvious how deeply she missed her little sister and how guilty she felt.”

Twilight was very, well, not glad, but perhaps relieved Celestia that had already laid the groundwork for this narrative with the public, because she really didn’t think she could sell it on her own.

“But today we find ourselves with long forgotten history leaping off the page. After a thousand years, Princess Luna has at last returned to us.”

The riotous cheering of the unfaithful crowd who’d loved their exiled princess nearly tore Twilight in half. As she waited for the fervor to die out, she reminded herself over and over again that they didn’t and wouldn’t know the truth. They had no reason to be anything but happy for Celestia.

“Yes, it’s all very exciting.” Twilight did her very best not to let that come out as snark and mostly succeeded. “Equestria will once again be a true diarchy. Princess Luna will return to her throne to rule once more.”

There was more cheering at that announcement, but it was shorter and more tolerable this time.

“During the sisters’ emotional reunion, however, Princess Luna offered to shoulder the full burden of both thrones so that Princess Celestia might, after a thousand years of unswerving devotion to us, take a long, much deserved holiday. She accepted.”

As there were no screams of panic or cries of treason, Twilight thought this was going well.

“For those of you who are curious, Princess Celestia will be off-planet. No, you didn’t mishear me. Now that she has free time, she’s decided to attempt to fix some of the damage Discord did to the heavens during his reign. It’s fascinating work. If you see something strange happening in the sky, it’s probably her. Feel free to wave and wish her well.”

Twilight breathed deep. This was it, the moment it all became real.

“And now, without further ado, Princess Luna.”

On cue, Luna coalesced from moonlight on stage beside Twilight. The audience, having bought every word of her gross misrepresentation of the truth, didn’t hesitate to voice their support. It was Luna’s first public appearance in a millennium. They were honored. Thrilled! This moment would go down in history, and they could all say they were here for it. Of course they were excited.

And why shouldn’t they be? She was Princess Celestia’s sister. Princess Celestia’s faithful student and incorruptible archmage endorsed her. It certainly didn’t hurt that Luna was just as beautiful as her sister with the same regal air, not to mention that she was an alicorn.

For the first time since Luna’s return, Twilight saw her with a real smile on her face.

Luna held up a hoof for silence before too long. She opened her mouth once she had it, and then introduced herself.

In Old Ponish.

The confused looks spread quickly, and Twilight fought not to facehoof.

Luna laughed and, with what probably constituted perfect comedic timing, said, “I jest.”

The crowd got the joke now and laughed with Luna.

It wasn’t a bad lead, Twilight supposed. Luna would never be Celestia in their eyes. At best she’d be a cheap knockoff. Ponies would expect a certain level of dignity and grace from their princess, but she had that in spades. There was no need to try to imitate her sister’s more distant rule when she could just be herself. She wanted respect, not awe. Love, not worship. If Celestia was the type of leader one would willingly bow to, Luna was the type one would follow unto the ends of Equus.

Or at least that was Twilight’s take on the matter. She’d learned a similar lesson long ago herself after becoming the archmage. Even so, she still rolled her eyes as she stepped aside. She found her seat only a few steps from where she’d started beside Sunset and fell under a subtle privacy spell. She might not be able to use her magic right now, but she could still tell that much at least.

“Not bad,” Sunset said. “For a shut-in.”

Twilight merely huffed in response. She knew what she was.

As the crowd quieted once more, Luna began her real speech.

“The world has changed since I last walked these lands. I see trains where once were dirt paths. The smallest of libraries overflow with more literature than I ever possessed. The terrors that lurked in the shadows have fallen back to the dark corners of the world. Ponies now follow their dreams without worrying if it will allow them to eat. Wild weather is a horror story you tell your foals.”

A strange sound caught Twilight’s attention. Is Luna…crying? Was she actually crying right now?

“For the past one thousand years, I have slumbered. In my dreams, I wondered what I would return to. I wondered what I would say. How I would feel. Rest assured, I stand before you now as a proud mother of this nation. You have grown so much since I left. I only wish I could have been there to see it with my own eyes.”

Twilight swore under her breath.

Luna stood a little straighter and spread her wings. “Citizens of Equestria! I swear to you now that you will not find me absent again.”

On that oath, Luna leapt into the air, her horn glowing a brilliant cobalt blue.

In the sky above, the moon set and the sun rose.

“Feeling conflicted?” Sunset asked with a pointedly casual air.

“No,” Twilight retorted. “She’s in the wrong. I just wish she didn’t make me feel bad to blame her.”

Chuckling, Sunset said, “This is why you don’t befriend your enemies.”

Twilight heaved a sigh. Rather than respond, she watched the last sliver of the moon disappear over the horizon, taking Celestia along with it. She’d played her hand, even cards she’d not known she’d had, and lost. Now she had to live with the consequences.