Equestria is rather notorious for its historical illiteracy. A thousand years guarantees anypony who wasn't there to witness the event won't remember it. Even the passage of a few generations runs the risk of events falling by the wayside.
But some things ponies remember, even if they don't always retain the reasons why they hold onto those memories. Twilight Sparkle just found one, and now she's going to try to find the reasoning behind it.
It's worse than she could ever imagine. On so many levels, it is so much worse.
Inspired by "Corn & Peg," a Nick Jr. cartoon that G4 very well could have been in a much darker timeline. Set in very early Season 8, during the School of Friendship's construction, and assumes that "Spring Breakdown" took place during that time. Blame/thank Estee for this story's existence. No heretics were BLAMMED in the making of this story.
Like all towns, Ponyville had its natural rhythms. They were bit louder and higher tempo than most towns, and definitely made more use of the sorts of "instruments" only Vinyl Scratch could love, but Twilight had come to learn and appreciate them nonetheless.
One particular rhythm that had experienced a recent tempo shift was Rainbow Dash's nap schedule, but once she'd sorted out active Wonderbolt duty and answering the Cutie Map's irregular call, it had regularized itself once more. As such, all Twilight had to do to find Dash late one spring morning was fly above cloud level and look for a patch of sky blue in the wrong direction.
Her timing was, naturally, excellent. She swooped down just as Dash was waking up. "Rainbow!"
Dash finished her post-nap stretch before answering. "Hey, Twilight. What's up?"
Twilight held up the copy of Long Wind's The Egregiously Unabridged Military History of Equestria, Vol. CXXIV she'd been carrying. "I was unwinding after the incident with Sunset and our human selves with a little light reading—"
That got an eye roll for some reason. "Right. Light reading." Dash sat on her napping cloud, forelegs crossed and expression sour. "Still kinda miffed that you didn't let me meet me, you know."
Twilight smirked. "I don't think any world could handle that much awesome."
"Heh. Yeah, probably. It'd be like the Pinkies meeting."
The smirk stayed, though Twilight's good humor quickly drained away. She cleared her throat. "Yes. That is definitely something we avoided." She focused on the book, flipping through it to the relevant entry. "Anyway, I found a reference to a Wonderbolt that I've never seen anypony mention before. I thought you'd be interested."
That got Dash off her cloud in a hurry. "Must have just never come up. There's no way I don't know the whole roster. Seeing their old stuff at the barracks even got me learning the history that isn't on the exam." She hovered over Twilight. A quick glance showed her trying to find the best angle to read the book through any intervening alicorn crania. "What's this one's name?"
"Captain Thunderhoof. She—"
Twilight cut herself off as she found her vision full of angry blue muzzle. "Rule Seven!"
She flinched back. "What?"
Dash backed away just far enough to jab her hoof into Twilight's ribs. "We do not talk about Captain Thunderhoof."
"But—"
"We do not. Talk. About Captain Thunderhoof." Every pause came with another jab. Dash flew off once she'd said her piece.
Twilight blinked. After a few moments, she realized she'd dropped volume CXXIV in her shock, and it had embedded itself a few inches away from a cowering Lily Valley. Ingrained habits collected the book, repaired what little damage hadn't been done to the ground, and assured Lily that the bibliocalypse was not in fact nigh.
The rest of Twilight was busy planning a way to figure out what just happened.
Twilight had planned on apologizing to Rainbow Dash as soon as possible, but that meant actually finding her. With the pegasus fresh off of a nap and with no prismatic contrails in sight, such a search would've taken the rest of the day, or at least waiting until Dash's afternoon nap. Instead, Twilight arranged an impromptu conference with the rest of her friends.
"Pass the clover," Pinkie said from behind an already heaped plate.
Also lunch.
"It's bizarre." Twilight piled almost a dozen books on the castle's dining room table, moving dishes to accommodate the stacks. "I've looked through the other histories I have for that time period, and none of them even mention Thunderhoof. And this is only about sixty years ago; there are plenty of contemporary accounts, but I can't find her in any of them. Even Long Wind mostly refers to her indirectly. Nothing gives even a hint of what kind of disgrace could make even saying her name get that kind of reaction."
"Speaking as a former destroyer of time," said Starlight, "they probably don't want to remember that kind of disgrace."
Rarity nodded. "Such is the price of fame. With all eyes on you, a truly grand misstep might be remembered for generations unless drastic steps are taken."
Fluttershy frowned into her salad. "I've never heard of Thunderhoof before, but now I feel just awful for her."
Applejack scratched under her hat. "Why's this buggin' you, Twi? So some mare who sounds like a flyin' buffalo was in the Wonderbolts three generations back and nopony's talked about 'er since. What skin is it off your muzzle?"
"I upset Rainbow Dash terribly. I want to understand why."
"Aw, she'll come around." Pinkie turned to face the castle dining room's doors. "In fact, I bet she'll come in for lunch any second now!"
Everypony else turned to look as well. There was a marked absence of entrances, by pegasi or otherwise.
"Aaaaany second now."
"Um, why would she know we were having lunch here?" said Fluttershy.
"Because it says so on her invitation, silly!"
"Pinkie, I didn't send any invitations," said Twilight. "This was a spur-of-the-moment meeting."
Pinkie snorted. "Well there's your first problem."
Twilight rolled her eyes and stood. "I'm going to go track down Rainbow." Her stomach voiced an objection to that plan, and she sheepishly sat back down. "After I finish this sandwich."
After magical scrying, carefully planned search grids, and another aerial survey over prime napping spots all came up blank, Twilight had only two recourses left. That called for another search, since she didn't want to stick a Daring Do novel or a mug of apple cider in a box trap.
Again.
Thankfully, this search proved more fruitful. Once she found her initial quarry puttering through town, Twilight called down, "Scootaloo, do you know where Rainbow Dash is?"
The scooter slid to a halt as Scootaloo surveyed the sky. Moments later, she nodded and pointed, making relief flood through Twilight. "She's in her house."
Twilight followed the hoof. Nothing seemed to indicate occupancy in the cloud mansion. "How can you tell?"
"It's three shades darker than usual, so she's probably pacing and grumbling about something."
"Oh." Twilight cleared her throat. "I see."
"Friendship problem?"
"Possibly. Still figuring it out." She forced a smile for the filly. "I'll let you know if she needs little-sister support."
Scootaloo snapped off a passable salute. "Got it. We'll be at Town Hall, helping Mayor Mare cope with you turning Ponyville into a college town without her input because alicorn."
Twilight blinked. "You know, most ponies would at least hesitate before completing that sentence to my face."
Scootaloo beamed. "You're welcome!" With that, she zipped off.
After a few moments of thought, Twilight shook her head and filed away all the issues that raised for later. For now, she focused on flying up to Dash's home.
The moment Twilight touched down, she could feel what Scootaloo had meant. There was a tingle beneath her hooves, a sense of electrical tension waiting for release. She found her wings fidgeting as she walked to the front doors, and fought to quiet her mind before she knocked.
She realized the futility of knocking on a door made of condensed cloudstuff a fraction of a second before the whole house released an ominous rumble of thunder.
Twilight winced, but pressed on. "Rainbow? Are you in? I'm sorry if I offended you somehow."
Dash all but shoved the doors open, still scowling. "You wanna knock harder? I don't think they heard you in Sacrapinto."
"Sorry. Your house seems... kind of tense."
The frown held up for only a few moments more before Dash sighed and sagged. "Yeah, that's me." Twilight swore she could see the hue of the clouds lighten a bit. "Come on in," Dash said, moving aside to let Twilight through. "You're probably not gonna let this go until you get some answers anyway."
"I don't mean to pry."
"Too late." It was hard to tell if Dash had meant to say that under her breath or not.
Twilight bit the inside of her cheek, trying to think of a way to broach the topic gently. "So, uh, how's your lesson plan coming?" It took all her mental focus as a master of the arcane arts and crafts to not facehoof.
"Really?" Dash gave her a look so flat it was a wonder the cloud mansion wasn't crashing.
Twilight just offered a hopeless smile. "Really. I'm interested."
"Eh, sure." Dash shrugged her wings. "About that. Are you sure about this whole 'School of Friendship' thing? You want us to stay home because the Map grew."
"Well, yes." The familiar ground of an objection several of her friends had already raised made Twilight comfortable enough to slip into lecture mode. "A few ponies can't cover an entire hemisphere's worth of friendship problems by resolving them one at a time. It would be like Pinkie hoof-delivering invitations to everypony in town when she could just mail them or use the bulletin board in Town Hall."
"Town Hall has a bulletin board?"
"Rainbow Dash."
Dash rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I get what you mean. Still, you're expecting me to teach. Me. The pony with an actual learning disability."
Twilight moved to her side with a soft smile. "You don't have a learning disability, just a very unusual preferred model of learning."
"Still don't think I'll be able get away with teaching a whole class by flying them past a bunch of skits and placards." Dash snorted. "Especially if some of them can't fly."
"For what it's worth, I basically planned on you teaching gym."
Twilight could practically see the gears turn as Dash considered that. "Oh. Yeah, that can work. But how are we even going to have time to teach? The only reason I don't live on base these days is because I'm fast enough to make the trip there a ten-minute commute."
"Starlight and I are working on that."
"How?"
Twilight gave a nervous laugh. "We might be modifying certain spells devised by Star Swirl the Bearded."
Dash took a few steps back, wings half-spread in worry. "I thought you said time magic was a bad idea. Like, 'destroy the world' bad."
"Nopony said anything about time magic!" said Twilight, perhaps a bit too quickly. She cleared her throat. "Besides, this is for a good cause."
"Okay..."
Twilight took a deep breath. Probably best to abandon this conversation before it really crashed and burned. "Look. Rainbow. You probably know I didn't come up here just to check on your lesson plan."
"No freaking duh. You're the one who brought it up."
"Right." Twilight found herself shifting from hoof to hoof and stilled herself, body and mind. "So, about... the Wonderbolt you'd prefer I not name. I am so—"
Dash held up a forehoof. "It's cool, Twilight. It's just one of the base rules, you know? I don't know why Thunderhoof's equus au gratin—"
"Non grata." Twilight said reflexively.
"That too. All I know is that not talking about her's right up there with keeping the runway clear." Dash shook her head. "And the last thing I need is Spitfire tearing a strip off of me for breaking the base rules any more than I already have."
Twilight nodded as she considered that. "I see." She looked off in the direction of Wonderbolt headquarters. "Well. I suppose I'll have to ask her then, won't I?"
Firefly Mesa was a perennial hub of activity, whether that meant trainees getting put through their paces or full-fledged Wonderbolts keeping their skills sharp. As Twilight glided to a landing, that activity came to a screeching halt. Ponies stopped to salute in midair, midstride, even midchew. The Dizzitron quietly wound down, the stallion strapped in too busy staring at Twilight to notice he'd ended up upside-down.
"Princess on base!"
Twilight's lack of familiarity with the team and the nearly Royal Canterlot output of pegasus lungs made it impossible to tell precisely who'd made that redundant announcement, but it was enough to jolt her out of her fugue and remind her why they were all holding still and staring at her, hooves at their temples. "At ease!" she called, nearly as loudly.
It was as if she'd flipped a switch and turned a little clockwork airbase back on, everypony instantly returning to their routines.
Twilight shook her head. "I'll never get used to that."
"Not like we're used to it, either." Soarin' fluttered to a landing next to her. "You've only ever come here twice. Once was before the wings, and the other time you had Rainbow Dash with you to nudge you when all that happened." He chuckled. "You know, this is technically supposed to be secured airspace."
"Oh, hi." Twilight blinked as her preprepared social routines labelled "acquaintance," "friend of a friend," and "military" all tried to engage at once. "I mean, um, Lieutenant, uh..."
He just smiled. "Relax, Your Highness."
Snark. Good old reliable snark. That would see Twilight out of the mental logjam. "I hope you see the irony of that statement."
"Heh. Point. Tell you what, I'll be Soarin', you be Twilight. Sound good?"
"Sounds great. Sorry about the..." Twilight waved a hoof, as if to encompass the Twily-nanas-ness of her sputtering. "That."
"It's cool. We hear a lot about you guys from Dash." After a beat, Soarin's expression turned thoughtful. "Seriously, a lot. Did you really get sucked into a comic book once?"
Twilight nodded. "And when we looked for the shop the day after, it wasn't there. And it wasn't even properly licensed as a wandering storefront!"
"That's a thing?"
"Mostly in high-unicorn settlements. Canterlot has eight of them on record. Mom's always said that's how to get the best deals on groceries if you don't mind checking them for curses."
"Huh." Soarin' grinned. "Well, Silver Lining owes me ten bits. It's like I tell him, always bet on Crash."
Twilight tilted her head as she tried to process that. "Huh."
"What?"
"Sorry, it's just that when your brother's Shining Armor, you get a certain mental image of guardponies."
Soarin' snorted. "Yeah. Guard ponies. Don't worry, Twilight, you're not dealing with Princess Celestia's tin soldier collection. We're a bit more relaxed in the 'Bolts."
Twilight said nothing about the flash of interservice rivalry. She remembered Shining complaining about "jumped-up bluebird showoffs" quite clearly. "So Rainbow has told me."
He smiled. "Tell you the truth, we've got Dash to thank for a lot of positive changes around here."
"Really?"
"Sure. Her, you, the other Bearers. Spitfire's been cleaning house pretty much since the day we got knocked silly by a flailing unicorn at the Best Young Fliers Competition." Soarin' looked off to the side, his eyes narrowing. "Don't think any of us realized just how much there was to clean before then." He shook his head and perked back up. "So, what brings you here?"
"Historical research. I was hoping to speak with Captain Spitfire about it." Twilight looked around. Everything seemed to be going smoothly around her, but she could make out some sidelong looks and glances in her direction. She leaned in close and whispered, "Does 'Rule Seven' mean anything to you?"
She could see Soarin's recovered perkiness die a swift and painful death in his eyes. He took a step back and gulped. "See, when I said we were more relaxed, I didn't mean that relaxed."
Twilight winced. "That bad?"
"It isn't good, I can tell you that." Soarin' sighed. "You mares just keep finding new ways to make Spits's day."
"Is there really that much of a stigma attached to Thun—"
He held up a hoof. "Don't. Please. Neither of us needs that kind of headache. She's in her office. I'll take you there. Just get ready to have your ears blown out when she finds out why you're here."
"Understood."
A pall then hung over the pair as they made their way through the base's administration complex. Twilight idly noted several minor ways to improve efficiency—a redundant process here, a poorly placed supply closet there—but decided they could wait for another day. Dash had made it clear how little Spitfire liked other ponies telling her how to run the Wonderbolts, and Twilight would be making herself unwelcome enough as it was.
Finally, they stopped inside of a door little different than any other, aside from the nameplate. "I'll let her know you're here," said Soarin'.
Twilight let a little sarcasm slip into her voice. "I figured everypony on base knew that. Is the office soundproofed?"
Soarin' began to answer, only to be drowned out by a voice on the other side of the door raised halfway to a shout. "Help me out here, Pub. How do we spin 'Princess Twilight ordered the rest of the Guard to take the day off' so it doesn't sound like we're throwing the hero of the day under the train?"
He winced. "Not exactly. Sorry about that. We're kind of in a PR tailspin since we were the only military at the Festival of Friendship."
Twilight groaned. "No need to apologize. That was one of many mistakes I made that week."
"Good to hear you say it." Both turned to see an open door and a smirking Spitfire. "Sound goes both ways, you two." She dipped her head just enough to not completely scandalize propriety. "Your Highness."
Twilight returned the nod. She'd made the mistake of saluting last time and planned on never repeating it. "Captain. For what it's worth, I didn't anticipate an invasion of the capital by airship."
"For what it's worth, Royal Intelligence is getting reamed three times harder than we are, though you didn't hear that from me. What brings you here?"
"Just a bit of curiosity." Thinking back to the Festival of Friendship made Twilight's anxiety slip out of its bonds in the back of her mind. She took a step back, feeling a nervous grin creep up her face. "I should've made an appointment. If you're busy, I can come back whenever—"
"I'm gonna stop you right there, Your Highness. You can come on in." As Spitfire stepped back from the doorway, she added, "Clipper, you get back to conditioning."
"Ma'am." Soarin' saluted and marched back through the hallway.
As Twilight entered the office, Spitfire continued. "Being captain of the 'Bolts means I can count the times each year I'm not busy on my hooves, and a quick question from royalty isn't going to eat into my schedule too badly. And if it's not a quick question, Pub here can probably field it for me." She waved a wing in the direction of a white-coated pegasus mare with a ink-black mane and red eyes.
The other mare bowed enough to bend her front legs. "Your Highness."
"You must be Publicity Stunt," said Twilight. "I've heard nothing but praise about you from Rainbow Dash."
"Of course you have," Publicity said with a smile. She shifted to bring her mark of a rag polishing a bronze statue into better view. "It's literally my job to make her look good." Her smile took on an eager, almost predatory edge. "On that note, can I quote you on the whole 'one of many mistakes' thing? To be blunt, your reputation can take the hit a lot better than ours can right now."
"Certainly." Twilight smiled. Positive interactions, happy introductions. It was enough to cram her worries back into their cell. "Now, I was hoping one of you could answer some questions about Captain Thunderhoof—"
"Rule Seven!" barked Spitfire.
Twilight flinched back, ears flat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Publicity Stunt had adopted an unreadably neutral expression. "I can see why Rainbow reacted like she did when I brought it up with her."
"Good to hear. She's a fast learner when she wants to be." Spitfire moved to her desk, donned a pair of sunglasses, and tented her hooves before her. "Now, is there anything else we can do for you, Your Highness?"
"You still haven't answered my question, Captain," said Twilight.
"And I have no intention of doing so."
Anxiety wriggled, but didn't emerge. Anger had already shouldered past it en route to the forefront of Twilight's mind. "I am not your subordinate, Captain. You can't order me to stop asking about this." Of course, Twilight's absence from the chain of command also meant she couldn't order Spitfire to spill the beans. The only reason she'd been able to tell the Guard to stand down during the Festival was because she was the mare of the hour at the time. Still, she wasn't going to say that.
Spitfire's flat look made it clear that she didn't have to. "Your Highness, you may have a castle and a crown, but that doesn't mean you can loiter on the runway, and it doesn't mean you can talk to me about certain former Wonderbolts who will remain nameless."
"I see. Miss Stunt?"
The mare just stared at the opposite wall and recited, "The Wonderbolts Demonstration Squadron acknowledges that a mare named Thunderhoof joined its ranks and achieved the rank of captain. Said mare was later dishonorably discharged. The Wonderbolts can neither confirm nor deny any other activities said mare performed before, during, or after her active service therein."
Twilight found herself gritting her teeth and forced her jaws to unclench. "You realize I can go over your heads and get a cup of tea in the process."
Spitfire removed her sunglasses so dramatically, Twilight knew that that was why she'd put them on in the first place. "With all due respect, Your Highness, there are some things you should just let lie."
Twilight met and matched her steely gaze. "With all due respect, Captain, my refusal to let historical mysteries lie is why the sun still rises in the morning. Good day." With a thought, she was gone.
Only when she began to pace about her castle's main library did she realize she'd broken her previous teleport distance record (unaugmented by extra magic) severalfold.
Arranging an audience with Celestia wasn't too hard if you knew how. Timing was key; she always made time for herself just after sunset, and would always welcome guests during such personal time.
Well, she welcomed any guests who were her personal student and fellow alicorn princess, who dropped out of the sky and onto Celestia's private balcony just after the sun sank below the horizon. "Good evening, Princess."
If Celestia felt any surprise at Twilight's presence, she gave no sign of it. She didn't even turn away from watching the moon rise. "Thank you, Twilight, though I must note that half of the credit goes to Luna."
Twilight couldn't help smile at that. "I was hoping I could discuss something with you."
"I imagine you were. Barely more than an hour ago, I received what I can only describe as an aggressively polite letter from Captain Spitfire."
A chill went down Twilight's spine. "Ah."
"Indeed." Celestia moved to a table for two, where a tea set awaited, steam puffing from the kettle. She began the preparations with ease of long practice. "I imagine Luna would praise you for asserting yourself as she has insisted you should for years. Personally, I'm a little surprised by just how adamantly you're pursuing information on Thunderhoof. I've seen you focus on an obscure bit of trivia in the past, but this seems unusually driven, even for you."
Twilight sat, her gaze on the dance of tea, cup, and kettle. "At first it was just to understand how and why I'd upset Rainbow Dash, but now?" She gave a lopsided grin. "Given my track record and how much effort ponies are making to keep this under wraps, I fully expect a descendant of Thunderhoof to try to take over Equestria at some point in the next five years. I'd rather not scramble for more information when the time comes if I can get it now."
Celestia considered this for a stretch, going through an entire cup of tea in the process. Twilight kept quiet, well familiar with her mentor occasionally slipping into such deep contemplation. Finally, Celestia said, "I truly wish I could dispute that."
"You and me both." Twilight took a deep breath. "The confrontation at Firefly Mesa also made me realize just how much I don't care for ponies hiding things from me."
There was the faintest hitch in Celestia's breathing, the sort of thing Twilight only noticed thanks to long years of knowing her. "Ah."
"Like ancient evils they temporarily thwarted."
Celestia cleared her throat and set down her teacup. "Did that come up today?"
Twilight brought her gaze up to meet her, an eyebrow raised. "Not yet."
"In all fairness, I wouldn't call Thunderhoof an ancient evil per se. This was only about sixty years ago, and she was very much mortal."
"True. Though Sunset shows that there could well be contemporary evils you haven't told me about either." Twilight let the idea dangle for a moment before adding, "Like the Storm King."
The fading light made it hard to tell, but there might have been a slight blush to Celestia's cheeks. "I think we're getting off-topic."
Twilight nodded. "True. I'd still like an itemized list of any and all adversaries, national or higher level threats, and other potential concerns who are potentially still at large by the end of the month."
For a few seconds, neither pony spoke. Finally, Celestia said, "Did you just assign me homework?"
"Call it planning for the inevitable."
Celestia shook her head, but there was still a smile on her muzzle. "Luna is going to be ecstatic when she hears about this. Very well. As I said, Thunderhoof was no horrific monstrosity from the depths of time, no spirit of mayhem or anarchy. She was just a pony, but you already know how a terrible a pony can be if they choose to twist their potential towards sinister ends."
Twilight nodded. "Terrorizing other universes, mutilating souls, defrauding ponies across the country... So what did Thunderhoof do?"
Celestia looked off into the sky. The first stars were coming into view, but her unfocused gaze wasn't looking at anything in the present moment. "While she was captain of the Wonderbolts, Thunderhoof was the worst warmonger Equestria has seen for centuries."
"Indeed. It's almost a shame; in darker times, I might have welcomed a mare like Thunderhoof. I don't know why she went into the Wonderbolts rather than a more martial division of the EUP, but she rose through the ranks with incredible speed." Celestia lit her horn and pulled out a thin volume from under the tea table. Though yellowed with age, the Wonderbolt emblem on the cover was still clear. "The old gazettes in the Canterlot Archives contain some of the only remaining images of her."
Twilight turned each page with the care and respect owed to a publication of that age, even if it was essentially an old sports magazine. Soon enough, she found a group shot of the entire Wonderbolt roster of the time, all of them with the stiff and dour expressions of ponies waiting minutes for the lengthy exposure process of a doggerreotype* to finish. * Lucky Doggerre revolutionized photography, cutting down exposure times from hours to a mere fifteen minutes. No prizes for guessing his species.
Thunderhoof stood front and center, her build similar to Rainbow Dash, not small so much as aerodynamic. Even in the picture, she gave a sense of tension beyond that of holding still for the camera, like a coiled spring ready to release its energy explosively. The sepia tones of the old photo brought Daring Do to mind. "She seems... intense," said Twilight.
"Very much so. Thunderhoof was a mare with little patience for nuance or shades of gray. She knew what she wanted and took it without shame or hesitation." Celestia sighed. "Unfortunately, what she wanted more than anything was an Equestria more proactive in its defense."
Twilight blew out an irritated snort. "If you're trying to shame me into cancelling that list of threats at large, it's not working."
"No, that was definitely a wise decision. But Thunderhoof would see having even one entry on that list as a gross failure on the part of every member of Equestria's military, up to and including me. Especially me. She believed that my permitting enemies to exist was a violation of the tenets of Harmony."
"I take it the concept of Kindness was lost on her."
Celestia shook her head. "She could be kind. She just saw no reason to extend kindness to her foes beyond swift elimination. Indeed, she took it even further than that." Her expression grew confused. "Even today, I don't understand how she convinced herself that Harmony could somehow be forced upon other nations. She wanted to wage war not just to conquer lands, but to overthrow entire cultures."
"But, but..." Twilight's thoughts reeled at the incomprehensible concept. "That's an inherent contradiction. By its very nature, Harmony must be something that emerges organically, by choice. Sure the Elements can bring it to bear as a tangible, magical force, but as a philosophy? At best, Thunderhoof's approach would get something like Ourtown."
Celestia shuddered. "I fear Thunderhoof's vision of Harmony would be far darker than an isolated town of talentless ponies. Sadly, while you may see the errors in her argument, many did not. And she was nearly as talented with persuasion as she was with warcraft."
Twilight swallowed, dreading her next question. "How many did she convince?"
"I don't have an exact number, but I do know that it began in the Wonderbolts. If you read that gazette, you'll see how she'd already turned them into a cult of personality. But by the time I realized the depths of her delusions, the country was weeks away from civil war."
"What!?" Twilight nearly fell out of her seat, her wings splaying out in shock. "But... you have literal centuries of political experience. How could anypony undermine you to that degree?"
Celestia smiled, the warm, sincere sort she wore when she didn't need to fake any of her joy. "It's good to see you haven't lost all your faith in me."
"I..." Twilight folded into herself as she reflected on her earlier words. "I never meant to imply—"
Celestia shook her head. "I neither expect nor want you to spend your entire life under my wing, Twilight. Even I need ponies who will stand up to me and question my judgement. I am neither flawless nor omniscient." She still smiled, though it took a turn for the rueful. "I'm sure you remember Cadence and Shining Armor's wedding."
"Well, yes," said Twilight, "but Chrysalis was literally born to insinuate herself among unsuspecting ponies."
"True. Whereas Thunderhoof had the advantage of spending as little time as she could in Canterlot, where I had to remain to keep the country running. I only know as much as I do from investigations after the fact: Literature, testimony, a few snarled words from the mare herself."
"How did you first find out?"
"When she finally began putting creepers into Canterlot. Thunderhoof had no intent of conquering the city by force, only converting it to her side. She knew the world could not survive without me and that she'd never convince me of her beliefs, but if the rest of equinity sided with her, she'd force my hoof. For what it's worth, she'd hoped to take Canterlot with as few casualties as possible. She might have had a twisted vision, she still ultimately sought to improve lives, not destroy them."
"By going to war in some kind of perverse, self-defeating crusade for Harmony," spat Twilight.
Celestia smiled at that, a twinkle in her eye. "Ah, if you could only have met her yourself. No doubt the debate between you two would have been legendary. But I digress. Ponies more loyal to me than to Thunderhoof caught wind of her attempts to sway the masses, and I investigated the matter personally."
Twilight leaned forward, an eager grin on her muzzle. "So how did your debate with her go?"
"Quietly, and in private." Celestia chuckled quietly at Twilight's disappointed slump. "Once I knew what she was doing, I knew how to stop it. As you noted, I do have a fair amount of experience in leading my little ponies. Publically shaming or banishing Thunderhoof would have only made her a martyr and incited her followers to rise up against the solar tyrant."
Twilight quirked an eyebrow. "That sounded like a quotation at the end. Has that ever happened?"
"Look up the Sweet Potato Rebellion of 185 some time." Celestia paused for a moment, then facehoofed and groaned. "Wait, no, you can't. I had those records expunged. Not my finest hour. Or decade, really."
"Any other embarrassing little incidents you wiped off the record?"
"A few." Celestia managed to smile again, though her ears still lay flat. "I suppose restoring them will be my next assignment, Headmare Twilight?"
Twilgiht found herself grinning in spite of herself. "Ask me again when I'm in a better mood." She collected herself and said, "So what happened with Thunderhoof?"
"It took some time, but we were eventually able to strike a compromise. Thunderhoof didn't want a civil war any more than I did, and if nothing else, we agreed that there was no way for her to mobilize Equestria without one."
"That's..." Twilight took a moment to analyze her mental state. "Is it weird that I find that anticlimactic?"
Celestia's smile grew more genuine as she poured a fresh cup of tea and reheated it with a thought. "Given our respective track records, I imagine you expected a combination of calls for reason and aerial combat, culminating in some grand magical display that sealed Thunderhoof away for a thousand years."
Twilight nodded. "That does match up well with your other confrontations that I know about."
"In this case, we were both working towards the betterment of Equestria, even if we were going about it in very different ways. As such..." Celestia's teacup danced in her telekinesis as she thought. "Well, you might say we made a wager of sorts."
"A wager?"
"Yes. Thunderhoof took her most ardent followers, the ones who were true believers and not just following the herd, to settle a remote part of the nation. I remained in Canterlot. Each of us would seek Harmony in our own way, and history would determine who found the better path."
"That's an awfully unfair advantage in your favor," said Twilight. "How'd you get her to agree to that?"
Celestia shrugged her wings. "Flattery, if I'm being honest. Thunderhoof's greatest weakness was always her ego. The right phrasing convinced her that I thought her victory was inevitable in the long run, that I was merely trading peace now for defeat later on."
Twilight considered all she'd been told. "So what you're saying is that somewhere in Equestria, there's a village raised on the belief that Harmony can and should be forced on others, that they have to demonstrate that that's better than a more sane approach, and that they're probably going to win when the time comes to do so."
"Assuming they haven't mellowed with time, yes."
Twilight took a deep breath. Calm in, stress out. "Princess, I say this with all the respect owed to you for all you've done for ponykind. but did it ever occur to you that that could lead to, you know, an army attacking Canterlot?"
"Oh, the possibility is certainly there. Until Tempest Shadow said who she was working for, I thought they were finally making their move," Celestia said with no more concern than discussing the weather.
"See, this kind of thing is precisely why I want that report," said Twilight, trying very hard not to slam her muzzle into a tablecloth that was probably five times older than her and worth twice as much.
"I know it sounds a little crazy, but based on past experience, I've found that that is the best way to handle this sort of ideological uprising. Scattering Thunderhoof's followers across Equestria would be all but begging them to form a secret society and plot my downfall."
"So instead, you let them plot it together and out in the open."
"In what was complete wilderness at the time. It is very hard to be a zealot and a firebrand when you're spending most of your time building shelters, tending to crops, or taming wild weather. The power of the bonds of community becomes self-evident when you watch that community form before your very eyes, and the hypothetical glory of combat begins to pale when cradling your newborn foal and imagining them on the wrong end of somepony's spear. I have seen the flames of worse revolutions become hearth fires several times in the past, and I imagine I will in the future." Celestia laughed to herself. "There is still a good amount of Equestria yet unclaimed, after all."
"I'd still like to investigate this town for myself. What's its name?"
"If Thunderhoof held to what she decided during our debate, Galloping Grove."
"Got it." Twilight got out of her seat, wings already spread for takeoff and her destination in sight.
"Twilight?"
She looked back to Celestia. "Yes?"
"Thank you for making sure I knew what I was doing, and not just assuming I did because I'm me."
"Um... you're welcome?" Twilight's mind boggled, and latched onto the first concrete thought it could find. "I'd still like that list." To her credit, she kept the scream internal.
Celestia simply smiled. "Of course. Have a lovely night."
"You too." Twilight took flight before she could embarrass herself further.
Two hours and five atlases later, Twilight realized that all the embarrassment in the world would've been worth the chance to ask "Where's Galloping Grove?" She'd assumed that the Canterlot Archives would have a map marked with the town. A record of its founding. A census report. Something. Only after a fruitless search did she consider that if Thunderhoof had been scrubbed from history, then the village she'd founded probably would be as well.
She groaned, moved the latest book aside, and rested her chin on the reading table. "I hate secrets."
"Right? The worst ones are the little open secrets everypony knows but nopony talks about. How do they know not to?"
"It's like all the other unwritten social rules. Everypony else already knew them and assumed we did too." Twilight blinked and turned.
Sitting in the chair next to her, a mare in a ratty sweater smiled and waved. "Hey."
"Moondancer!" Twilight cried, embracing her friend.
"Shh!" The admonishment made Twilight flinch back enough for Moondancer to give her a stern glare. "I'm happy to see you too, Twilight, but this is still a library."
"It's almost nine and finals aren't coming up. We're the only ones in here." Twilight swept a hoof over the empty stacks for emphasis.
"It's the principle of the thing."
Twilight the librarian poked Twilight the world-savior, and she let her foreleg drop. "Okay, yeah, fair. I don't suppose you know where Galloping Grove is?"
After a few moments, Moondancer shook her head. "It doesn't sound familiar, but I haven't studied obscure geography for a few years now. Why do you ask?"
"I probably shouldn't tell you. I'm not sure if this is a matter of national security, but it definitely won't make me any friends if I divulge the details to every mare, hen, and jenny." Twilight groaned. "I'm probably going to have to go back to Ponyville just to have Spike send a letter to the princess."
"I mean, you are a princess yourself. Can't you go ask in person?"
"I just left." Twilight looked down as she tapped the tips of her forehooves together. "And I might not have been as polite as I could have been."
"You actually talked back to Princess Celestia. You."
"And she thanked me for it, which I'm still trying to process." Twilight sighed. "Besides, she's deep in her personal time at this point. She might even be reading a book. How could I interrupt that? And that assumes she'll even tell me rather than leaving it as an exercise for me to solve myself."
"She did always love it when we could answer our own questions." Moondancer hummed at that. "Or each other's."
"You have an idea?"
"If books..." Moondancer bit her lip, adopting an expression somewhere between frustration and nausea. "If books..."
"Moondancer?"
"Give me a second. If books... can't... help..." Moondancer gagged. "Going to need to scrub my tongue. If that's the case, then you can go ask some primary sources. Ponies whose jobs depend on them knowing every nook and cranny of Equestria."
Twilight gasped. "That's brilliant!"
"Shh!"
"Sorry. Wait, did you ever find yourself in a situation where books couldn't... couldn't..." Twilight shook her head. "Oh wow, I don't even want to think that phrase."
"Seriously. And it has come up a few times, mostly with topics where the bulk of the information was preserved through oral tradition and still hasn't been transcribed." Moondancer frowned and tugged at one of her sweater's many loose threads. "Pretty much the only social interaction I had for a while."
A pair of grumbles broke into the conversation. Both mares looked at their barrels, then laughed. "Well, how about a little social interaction and a late dinner?" said Twilight.
Moondancer beamed. "Sounds great."
Twilight glided down to Ponyville in much better spirits. That lasted exactly as long as it took to check the train station for any sign of Galloping Grove on the rail map or the posted schedules.
"Galloping Grove?" said the ticket clerk when she asked. "Never heard of it. Can't be that important if the train doesn't go there."
"Several lines end in the middle of nowhere," said Twilight. "This is an actual town."
The clerk scowled at her, then turned up his muzzle. "I'll have you know Peaks of Peril Terminal is a vital stop for our kirin riders."
"Uh huh. And how many kirin ride the train on an annual basis?"
"That's entirely besides the point."
Twilight rolled her eyes and stomped into Ponyville proper. Her ire kept her going for a few blocks before her eyes and body started to slump. Miles of flight and teleportation, the stress of confronting Celestia, and the late hour all joined forces to air their grievances.
"No fair," Twilight mumbled. "I'm s'possed to be the frien'ship princess. Yer not s'pposed to team up against me." After a jaw-stretching yawn, she pointed herself towards the castle. "Not like the post office is even still open. I'll jus'—"
Whatever Twilight was just about to do, she never said. A moment later, she fell asleep on her hooves. A few seconds after that, a contingency teleport she'd put into place after the last time that had happened sent her to her bed, lying on her side atop her sheets. The crystal that had stored the spell, hanging from the bed's headboard, burst with a faint pop that she didn't even register.
For the most part, she dreamed of standing before an audience of ecstatic lunar alicorns, eliciting stampedes of applause with every line she repeated from earlier that day. But now and again, a compact mare would scowl down at her from the rafters, and the stomps would sync up enough to sound more like a marching army than a cheering crowd.
Twilight awoke to pain. Also the smell of waffles and coffee, but mostly pain. "Uuuuugh..."
She barely made out Spike's voice over various bits of her body complaining. "Wings, horn, hooves, or body?"
"Yes." Her wings ached from the long flight, her knees had been locked all night, her horn still pulsed from having a spell dragged out of it involuntarily, and those were just the most notable issues. Twilight was not Rainbow Dash. Her mind might be willing, and her spirit might have been reforged into something greater than it once was, but her body was still that of a bookworm whose primary form of exercise was the occasional bit of world-saving. Even her eyelids hurt, enough that actually opening her eyes was unthinkable.
The coffee smell intensified. Twilight stuck out her tongue, found the essence of life at a temperature that wasn't immediately scalding, and began lapping it out of the mug. "You're the best," she said when the level had lowered far enough that she couldn't get out more. It was still enough caffeine to sit up.
Spike gave her a wry smile that said volumes about how this was far from the first time they'd gone through this routine, and both knew it would be far from the last. He'd had a lot of chances to practice that look. "I try."
"You succeed." Twilight took the mug in her magic and finished step one of feeling equine again. Just nine more to go.
"So, how'd it go yesterday? You were gone since lunch."
Twilight shook her head as she struggled to her hooves, biting back a yelp as she put her weight on them. Ponies could sleep standing up or lying down, but the equine body didn't appreciate trying to split the difference. "Later. I want to let everypony know at once, and I still have some more data to gather. Also waffles." Rather than coordinate fork and knife, she just grabbed a whole waffle in her magic and took a fluffy, berry-laden, cream-topped bite.
All pain and misfortune in the universe vanished for a few blessed seconds. "O Great and Honorable Spike the Brave and Glorious, rightful Dragonlord and true master of Namepending Castle, I am eternally in your debt."
Spike just chuckled. "Yeah, I've been tweaking the batter."
Sadly, not even dark magic could make the waffles last forever, and so Twilight dragged herself through the rest of her morning routine. After her shower, the muscle aches that had built up yesterday had lessened to twinges that only flared up when she moved. The hornache subsided with time. The mental fatigue of crossing horns with Celestia had cleared up after, if not a good night's sleep, then at least that of a night that was well on its way to reforming itself and becoming a productive member of chronology.
Twilight found herself vaguely amazed by how early it still was when she got out of the castle, but she wasn't complaining. She trotted to the post office with minimal wincing, finding an imposing mug of coffee at the front desk, along with the pony it was supervising.
"Morning, Twilight," Ditzy Doo said with a yawn. She took the small ceramic cauldron in both forehooves and drank deep. "What can I do for you?"
"Firstly, where do I get a mug like that?" Twilight looked at it with naked envy and a complete absence of shame.
Ditzy beamed and turned the mug so Twilight could see "Best Mommy" shakily painted on one side. "Have Equestria's best daughter and get it as a Mother's Day gift seven years later. Everypony told Dinky she was making it too big. She knew better."
"Not sure I'm ready for that kind of time investment," Twilight said with a smile. "In any case, I was hoping for directions. I'm trying to locate a town and my other sources are coming up blank."
"Well, neither rain nor sleet nor geographic esotery stays us messengers." Ditzy pulled a map out from under the desk and unfolded it until it hung over both sides. "Which town?"
"Galloping Grove," Twilight said with as much lightness as she could.
Ditzy hissed through her teeth. "Oh. Well then."
"I take it you know of it."
A long sip of coffee preceded Ditzy's response. "See, rain and sleet are one thing. Well, two things. But that town is right up there on the 'Don't Ask' list with big green things with teeth and Mrs. Cake."
"What's so bad about Mrs. Cake?"
Ditzy winced. "Let's just say I hope Pound and Pumpkin don't try going through any rebellious phases."
"Look, I'm not asking you to deliver anything. I just need to know how to get to the town myself." A little voice that sounded a lot like Pinkie Pie piped up in Twilight's mind. "And you must know how to get there in order to not go there, because otherwise, how could you avoid it?"
Ditzy's eyes drifted as she contemplated that. After one started rolling back into her head, she shook herself and pushed her coffee mug towards Twilight. "I think you need this more than me."
With a great exertion of will, she pushed it back. "I need information more than caffeine, Ditzy."
"Fine, fine." Ditzy rolled her eyes as she slid the map about. One kept going for several seconds. "Just don't blame me when you get there. That place isn't right."
"Could you elaborate on that?"
"Yes."
A lengthy pause followed that. Eventually, Twilight said, "Will you—"
"Absolutely not. I usually pretend that place doesn't exist, and I wish it didn't. You'll see for yourself soon enough." Ditzy reached out with a pinion and poked a spot on the map nestled between Neighagra Falls and the Crystal Mountains. "Right there."
"Thanks. I won't bother you anymore."
Ditzy shook her head as she started refolding the map. "It's no bother, Twilight. Just be careful."
Twilight gave her a flat look. "That would be much easier if I knew what to be careful of."
Ditzy stayed silent for a stretch. Just as Twilight was about to turn and leave she said, "Approach the town from above. They don't look up."
"Well, that's about as much as the princesses give me to work with," Twilight said with a humorless smile. She waved a wing. "Have a good day, Ditzy."
"You too. You know, relatively speaking." Ditzy looked down at the origami tesseract that had once been a map of Equestria. "Huh."
Twilight's thoughts raced as she left the post office. Given such an ominous warning from such a normally happy-go-lucky mare, maybe it was best if she just went directly to Galloping Grove without—
"TWILIGHT!"
"Pinkie?" Twilight found herself hovering after a surprised jump. She landed and said, "What's the matter?"
"Well, my head shook, then I felt a pit in my tummy, and then my hoof smacked my forehead like this." Pinkie demonstrated a textbook facehoof. Literally. It was a perfect recreation of the illustration in Dr. Shrunk's Reading Expressions for the Socially Inept.
"And what does that combo mean?"
"You're about to go off on some dangerous mission without any of your friends!"
Twilight opened her mouth to deliver a counterpoint, but then stopped to think about how often she must have done that for Pinkie to recognize that particular Pinkie Sense. "I mean, I was planning on getting you all together and discussing my findings."
"Was. Past tense. Right now?" Pinkie leaned in close enough that their eyes were practically touching.
Twilight took a step back. "It's not like we know for sure that this is going to be dangerous, Pinkie."
"You don't. I do."
"Evidently." Much as Twilight wished otherwise, there was no arguing with the Sense.
"Sooooo?" Pinkie gazed deep enough that Twilight wondered if Fluttershy had been giving lessons.
Twilight sighed. "I admit, I was considering going on ahead to protect you guys."
"And now?"
That got a rueful grin. "Now I get the feeling you won't let me."
Pinkie went from an interrogator's stare to a wide smile in an eyeblink. "Rightaroonie!" She pronked off towards the castle. "Come on. I'll get everypony together in the map room and we can figure this out together like a Princess of Friendship should."
"I'm not sure if Rainbow Dash is even awake right now," Twilight said as she followed.
A bit of intensity crept back into Pinkie's expression. "Oh, she will be. She will be."
Once they convened, she was. She clearly wasn't happy about it. Though to her credit, she did contain herself until after Twilight summarized her findings. "How do you keep getting into my house?"
Pinkie leaned back in her throne, the very image of smugness. "Balloon mark."
"That's for parties!" said Dash.
"Among other things."
"Girls, could we focus?" Twilight looked about the room and once again wished she had an option for Starlight other than an obviously mismatched chair or just standing at her left hoof. "I'd like to hear all your thoughts before I move forward."
"Don't you mean before we move forward?" said Rarity.
"I admit, I'm nervous about bringing any of you with me. We have no idea what could be waiting for us. It could be anywhere from another Ponyville to an active warzone waiting to happen."
"Are you sure you're not overreacting?" Spike said from her right hoof. "A name like Galloping Grove doesn't exactly scream 'villainous lair.'"
Pinkie slammed the map table with a hoof. "That's exactly what the lairing villain wants you to think!"
"Pinkie's got a point," said Applejack "I'd be a lot more suspicious of some place called, I dunno, 'Bloody Hoof Gulch,' an' that Thunderhoof mare knew what she was doin'."
Fluttershy gulped. "Could we please never go to Bloody Hoof Gulch?"
"Just an example, Shy. Pretty sure there ain't no such place."
"Good."
"At the risk of playing Discord's advocate," said Starlight, "What exactly is the difference between Thunderhoof's philosophy and firing the Elements of Harmony at Nightmare Moon?"
"It's a fair question," said Twilight. "I asked Luna that, back during her first Nightmare Night. The Elements ultimately offer a choice to your subconscious mind. When Celestia used them on Nightmare Moon, she'd just transformed. She was still full of rage and jealousy and hatred. She deliberately chose the option that would hurt Celestia the most, leaving her alone and able to see her mistake every time she raised the moon. When we used them, Luna had had a thousand years to think about that choice. Under all the bluster, she was tired. She was lonely. She wanted a new start, and she got one.
"It's the same thing I did with you at the end of our time battle. You were the one who chose to end it, to seek something better than revenge. But Thunderhoof wouldn't offer any choice. She would force ponies to accept her vision of Harmony, and dissenters wouldn't be tolerated. At best, they'd end up in a locked room with a record of propaganda stuck on repeat." Twilight coughed into a fetlock. "Um, no offense."
Starlight waved it off. "None taken."
"Do you think that's what Galloping Grove is like?" said Fluttershy.
Twilight wingshrugged. "I don't know. That's what concerns me."
"Look, Twilight," said Dash, "if this place is dangerous, that means we should definitely all go. Remember the last time we went to some creepy village in the middle of nowhere? We'd still be stuck there if it wasn't for Fluttershy! No offense, Starlight."
Starlight's smile took on a plastic quality. "Some days, I really empathize with Sunset Shimmer."
"It's the 'if' that bothers me," said Twilight. "I want to take this one carefully. I'm tired of charging in half-blind and getting ambushed by whatever scheme lies in wait. No offense, Starlight."
"Seriously?"
"I want to approach subtly and observe before acting. That works better with as few ponies as possible, and..." Twilight's wings fidgeted as she considered her next point. "Well, you all know I don't like getting special treatment, but you can't ask for better covert reconnaissance than a single mare who can fly and cast spells."
That got grudging nods from the rest of the table. Rarity spoke up next. "That's all well and good, but what will you do when something goes wrong?"
"Don't you mean 'if'?"
"Consider our track record, darling."
Twilight did. Then winced. "'When' it is. Alright, fine. We're all here. Let's put our heads together and figure out a few contingency plans. But I still want to head to Galloping Grove soon. Today, if possible."
"Why the rush?" said Spike.
"Duh. When's the last time we talked about something way before we had to keep it from destroying the world?" Pinkie stretched out her forehooves to emphasize the time gap.
Everypony took a moment to think about that. Twilight answered first. "Cerberus leaving his post. That was more than a year before Tirek made his move."
"An' I'm still waitin' for the Flimflam brothers t' try that hostile takeover of Equestria Twi saw durin' the time battle," added Applejack.
"Okay, but still. I bet you the Map's going to light up with a friendship problem in Galloping Grove any second now." Pinkie stared at the Cutie Map with laserlike focus. "Aaaaany second—"
Fluttershy cleared her throat. "Um, didn't you use that gag yesterday?"
Pinkie froze from the neck down, her face slowly drooping into an expression of purest horror.
Twilight considered the Map herself. "The fact that it hasn't notified us about any friendship problems there is what most concerns me."
"What do you mean?" said Spike.
"Two possibilities. Either there aren't any friendships that can become problematic... or the citizens of Galloping Grove are so thoroughly indoctrinated that they really are harmonious in their own horrifying way."
"I think you're missing an important point," said Starlight.
Everypony turned to her. Dash spoke first. "What?"
"Both of those could describe Ourtown back in my bad old days."
"No offense!" Pinkie cried.
Starlight stared at her for a few moments, expression unreadable. "Thank you, Pinkie. The point is that if the Map sent you all there, then it definitely would have picked up on Galloping Grove if it was reaching some critical point in fulfilling Thunderhoof's legacy."
"So yer sayin' there's nothin' t' worry about?"
"I'm saying there isn't as much to worry about. I was still spreading equality for years before you all came to town." Starlight rubbed her forehooves together. "So, about those contingency plans..."
Galloping Grove wasn't terribly far from Ponyville, but the trip still took longer than one to, say, Manehattan or Vanhoover. The closest train stop was miles away, and it was only available on a local that made every stop in between. And while Twilight might have been willing to exercise alicorn privilege to keep her friends safe during a stealth mission, she wasn't going abuse her authority to force a train to violate its schedule. That way lay tyranny. Besides, it gave her time to get used to the new earring, made from the crystal of her castle.
Once Twilight got off in the town, inexplicably named Buffalo despite its distance from the Mild West, she drew every eye. The place was roughly the size of Ponyville and didn't have anywhere near the same degree of alicorn exposure. By the time she walked out of the station, she walked into a wall of sound.
"We love you, Princess Nightmare Moon!"
"We really do! Please don't blot out the sun again!"
"Can I have your autograph? Sign it 'To Liquid Despair, my most devout disciple'!"
Twilight made a mental note to bring this up with the EEA. If ponies literally didn't know her from Luna, something was going terribly awry. Still, she had other concerns at the moment.
She eventually managed to extract herself from the misinformed crowd through a judicious combination of apologies, promises for later photo opportunities with the mayor, and a long-distance teleport. From there, it was a matter of following the map and the magnetoreception that pegasi used as a built-in compass while making a mental note to study illusions more in the near future.
"Rarity was right," Twilight muttered to herself. "I should've just worn a hat and posed as a very tall pegasus."
Still, what was done was done, and the afternoon sun offered plentiful thermals for free lift. Twilight couldn't help but note the complete lack of roads beneath her; there was no sign that anypony else had travelled in this direction for some time. After a while, Rainbow Dash's lessons came to the forefront, and Twilight made a game of seeing how few flaps she could get away with. That made the miles flow by, and she soon found herself approaching a settlement.
It seemed... normal. Certainly nothing like Firefly Mesa or any other military installations, purpose-built for the most efficient possible use of space and optimized to defend against invaders. There was something familiar about it as Twilight approached. Not like Ponyville or Canterlot; the houses weren't built in the style of either, but they still tickled some part of Twilight's memories. She let the thought worry at her mind as she alighted on a cloud. She'd figure it out soon enough.
A little nestling—something else Rainbow Dash had taught her—and Twilight was encased in the cloud, barely anything but eyes and ears poking out. She began observing Galloping Grove, and made a key observation almost immediately:
Nopony else was in the air.
It wasn't unusual for surface-level towns to have a low pegasus population, but this went far beyond "low." There were no weatherponies tweaking microclimates. No shopkeeps stretching their wings on a flying break. No foals tearing up the skies as they got out of school.
Where was the school?
Twilight frowned down at the town. To answer that question and several others, she'd need a better look, and getting closer was an unacceptable risk. She lit her horn. First was Red Mercury's Antonymous Auditory Augmentation, a reversal of the great bard's signature spell. Rather than amplify outgoing sound, it would boost what Twilight heard; angling her ears would let her aim the clairaudience. After that came a spell from Red's colleague Galileo Figaro. The Magnificent Magnifier formed a lens out of the air in front of her, letting her see fine details on the surface.
The moment Twilight got a good look at a pony, she was glad she hadn't gone with the original, slightly more efficient Galileo Figaro Magnifico. That spell infamously triggered a heartsong if the caster's concentration lapsed. Had Twilight been using it, she surely would've blown her cover the moment she saw what the stallion held in his hoof.
Twilight and Sunset had filled many pages of the communication journal discussing human technology. When the questions got too technical for cursory Internet searches—the fact that Sunset could just casually check the sum totality of her world's knowledge on a whim meant Twilight had never questioned why she chose to stay there—the discussion had included the other Twilight. As such, Twilight (the pony) was by far her world's best authority on electronics, microprocessor manufacture, wireless technology, and so many other disciplines that lay decades in Equestria's future.
That was the key point. Decades in Equestria's future.
Knowing the path to mobile phones wasn't the same as trotting it. The only telephone networks in Equestria lay in the most affluent Manehattan skyscrapers as a showy alternative to speaking tubes. Nopony farmed the rare earths needed for some key electronic components, much less knew how to process them. Even bringing a phone from the human world just squirreled it away in an inaccessible hyperdimensional pocket space as long as that person stayed in this world.
In short, the cell phone in that stallion's hoof should not have been physically possible.
Then Twilight noticed a pony-adapted automobile going down one of the roads. Not a wheezing, straining ponyless carriage like the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000. No, aside from longer seats, it could've rolled out of a dealership in the human world. Her memory chose that moment to pipe up on why the architecture felt so familiar; the structures also seemed ripped right out of the human world, with only minor concessions to the equine form. She felt an eye start twitching.
"Okay," she said to herself. "Let's not fly off the handle, Twilight. We have several options. They could have some manner of large-scale time travel that hadn't led to a catastrophic paradox spiral. The items in question could be completely magical. Celestia's gambit and Thunderhoof's strangely peaceful regime could've somehow come together to produce a hyperadvanced scientific utopia."
Spots began to swim before Twilight's eyes. She rammed her muzzle into the cloudstuff and willed it as solid as she could. It was no paper bag, but it worked well enough to get her breathing back under control. Once her blood oxygen settled down, she groaned, "Maybe this is why I should've brought the others. " She shook her head as gently as she could. No sense in dispersing her observation platform. "Okay, Twilight. Remember the lessons from trying to disprove the Pinkie Sense: Open mind. Assume nothing. Keep your eyes open and see what you can see."
Once she recast her divination spells, she did just that, watching ponies trot—and yes, drive—about town. After the better part of an hour, steering her little cloud with the gentlest flaps she could manage, Twilight had enough observational data to identify a trend, one she could summarize in a single word. Not "dystopian." Not "sinister" or "miltarized" or even "suspicious."
It was "twee."
Twilight recognized that was somewhat hypocritical coming from a pony who'd chosen one of the more idyllic villages in Equestria to call home, but Galloping Grove felt like concentrated Ponyville. Like a tourist board had extracted the most charming and appealing aspects of the town from the actual infrastructure, then expected ponies to live in that extract. Beautiful houses and charming shopfronts filled the town, but few houses showed any signs of character or individuality or even having been lived in, and few stores indicated what, if anything, they sold. Even as Twilight watched, ponies seemed to give goods away without any indication of payment, like foals playing with imaginary money.
The same superficiality applied to the ponies themselves. There was no purpose to their movements; they just seemed to drift from place to place. They were always happy to talk to one another when they crossed paths, but nopony sought anypony out or even traveled together. They were just... there. Even they didn't seem to know why; Twilight had seen more than one pony walk into a lamppost in less than an hour. There was no way such ponies could've produced technical marvels so far ahead of the rest of Equestria. Even putting aside the lack of any visible pegasi, they didn't even seem capable of looking after their own weather, which still seemed better behaved than Ponyville's.
"Yeah!"
Twilight barely kept herself from sitting up. That cry had certainly had purpose to it. Anything that sounded like it came from a rogue group of Cutie Mark Crusaders couldn't help but sound purposeful.
Careful twitches of her ears found the sources, a pair of foals. A unicorn and a pegasus, no less, blue and magenta coats standing out like broken feathers amid a town that seemed composed entirely of earth ponies in various shades of orange. Their eyes shone with drive when so many looked foggy and vague. They beamed with enthusiasm when so many looked mildly concussed.
"What do we do?" "We do good! We do good!"
They sang with all the enthusiasm and tonelessness of Scootaloo, but they still seemed like good foals, even before taking their own testimony into account.
Twilight shook her head at her own foolishness. "You're judging books by their covers, Twilight. Just because it's different doesn't necessarily mean it's wrong. Celestia might be right about this place. The only way to know for sure is direct interaction."
Yes, direct interaction.
As an alicorn who was a head taller than most ponies.
When she didn't know any disguise spells that could stand up to minor concerns like motion.
Twilight sighed. "So much for keeping a low profile." She spread her wings and glided towards the town hall. At least, she assumed it was the town hall. It had a large exterior staircase and columns; odds were it was either Town Hall or a library, and she'd happily take either.
She kept an eye on the ponies below as she descended. Most didn't seem to notice her. Only when her shadow passed over a pony did they even react, and by the time they thought to check the sky, she had already gone far past them.
"Ditzy was right. They don't look up," Twilight said to herself. She wasn't sure how much of that was tribal demographics and how much was impossibly advanced electronics, but she wasn't complaining.
She still got startled looks when she landed. She paid the onlookers no mind as she high-stepped her way into what an inscription in the edifice confirmed as Town Hall. With her eyes kept forward and pace steady, nopony who passed by her even thought to question her. Once she fished a piece of paper out of a wastebasket, straightened it out with magic, and adopted a consternated look like a sleep-deprived Luna, they didn't even want to stay in the same hallway as her, resulting in the sudden occupation of more than one broom closet.
It was an old trick that even Twilight had managed to pick up from the court in Canterlot: If she looked like she knew what she was doing, ponies would assume she did. If she looked like she knew what she was doing, she was important, and she wasn't happy, they would scatter to the four winds.
Finding the mayor's office was fairly simple. Top floor, back end of the building, as far from angry townsponies as possible. Twilight cracked her neck, ready to bring all her bureaucratic skill to bear against any obstructive secretary that might stand in her way. She checked the name on the door, opened it, and proclaimed, "I'm here to see Mayor Montague."
An affable looking orange-coated stallion looked up from the desk in front of a wide window. He smiled. "Oh! That's me."
The overall impression was like reaching for a step that wasn't there. "You are?"
"I am!" Montague blinked. "Am I?" He got up, letting Twilight get a full view of him. Between the mustache, the top hat, the suit jacket with tie, and the pince-museau, he was almost absurd in his stereotypical mayoralty. Even his cutie mark matched the hat. He checked the nameplate on his desk, then nodded to himself. "Yes, that what it says here."
"Are you related to the Pies, by any chance?" The words came tumbling out before Twilight even realized she'd thought them.
Montague seriously contemplated that before shaking his head. "Can't say I've heard of them. Now, what did you need me for?"
"Oh. Uh..." Twilight cleared her throat and tried to regather her thoughts. Once the silence had stretched on too long for her comfort, she said, "I'm sorry, I was expecting a secretary."
"A secretary?" Montague chuckled as he walked back behind his desk. "Well, that seems like an awful lot of trouble for little old me."
Twilight needed another moment to process that. "But you're the mayor."
He beamed at that. "I am!"
"So don't you have a lot of ponies vying for your attention?"
Montague nodded enough that he nearly dislodged his top hat. "Oh, yes. You know, before I started, I never would've guessed how much of mayoring was signing autographs."
"Autographs," Twilight repeated tonelessly, keeping her thoughts on "mayoring" to herself.
"That's right."
Heart sinking, Twilight said, "On sheets of paper with a lot of writing already on them?"
Montague grinned. "Ah, I see you've done some mayoring yourself."
"You could say that." Twilight took a deep breath. "Do you do anything besides give 'autographs'?"
"Oh, you know." Montague rolled a hoof. "Ribbon cuttings, toy drives, the usual sorts of things."
"Election speeches?"
"Elections?" He tilted his head. "What do those have to do with mayoring?"
Twilight's mouth worked silently for a few moments. "You know what? I'm just going to change the subject."
"Fine by me!"
"I don't suppose you can tell me anything about Captain Thunderhoof?" It wasn't like Twilight had anything to lose.
"Hmm..." Montague tapped his chin with a hoof. "Well, I suppose there iiiii..." He trailed off, eyes drifting out of alignment.
Twilight took an involuntary step back. "Mayor Montague?"
He just stared at opposite corners of the office, jaw hanging open and beginning to drool.
Twilight became all too aware of being as far from the main doors of the town hall as she could be while still being inside it. She lit her horn, preparing to scan for any mental magic effects or incoming ponies.
The moment her aura grazed Montague, he blinked and perked back up. "Hello there! I'm the mayor!"
After a pause that lasted for moments but felt like weeks, Twilight said, "Hi. I was just leaving."
"Nice to meet you, Miss Leaving." Thankfully, Montague chuckled at his own joke as he took a sheet out of his inbox. "Don't let me detain you."
Twilight swallowed against the growing lump in her throat. "I'll do my best. Thank you for your time, Mayor Montague."
"Any time!" Montague said as he waved goodbye.
Twilight returned the wave, keeping up a smile as best she could until she was back in the corridor. "Well," she muttered once the door closed, "that raised more questions than answers." She ducked into the first restroom she could find, grateful that the town at least made that concession to reality, and teleported up and out of the building.
Another few minutes of aerial surveillance showed no reaction from Town Hall. If anypony had noticed the mayor's fugue state, they were keeping quiet about it.
"Alright," Twilight said from atop her latest cloud. "Something's wrong with this town. The question is what." Her idle gaze stopped when it landed on something notable: Another unicorn. A grown stallion, no less.
Twilight shrugged and spread her wings. "Well, it's kind of like a lead." Another spiraling descent put her in front of an actually identified storefront, one Todd's Comics.
Opening the door brought Twilight into a realm of secondhoof nostalgia. Between Shining Armor and Spike, she couldn't help but be at least somewhat familiar with comic book stores. She didn't recognize any of the titles, but the racks and boxes themselves were universal, as were the boxes of Hocus Pocus: the Get-Together behind the checkout counter. "Excuse me?" she said as she walked there.
The stallion at the register gave an impression of a very long lost member of the Apple family, nearly identical in coloration to Applejack. Even when she knew it was coming, seeing a horn on his forehead when he turned to face her was almost as much of a shock as the cell phone. "Hey. Welcome to Todd's Comiii..." The stallion stared at Twilight. His eyes weren't glassy or dull. They looked all too aware as their pinprick pupils darted between her horn, wings, and face. The stallion began to shake with olfactible fear.
Twilight looked around. Nopony else was in the store. With a thought, she projected a bubble of silence and placed a quick ward on the door. "We have some privacy." She leaned close. "What do you know?"
"Kn-know? I don't know anything!" He bared his teeth; calling it a smile would be giving it far too much credit. "I'm just Todd!"
Twilight snorted. "Horsefeathers. The moment you saw me, you were terrified. Why?"
He held up his forehooves in a warding gesture. "Look, I swear I've been toeing the line. Don't Friendship Beam me!"
"Friendship..." Twilight blinked as she tried to process that. Did they know about the Elements? If the friendship journal got sold here, she'd never seen the royalties. She decided not to offer any information that wasn't freely available. "You mean a reform spell?"
"Reform. Sure. Fine. Whatever you want to call it."
Twilight took a deep breath. "I think we got off on the wrong hoof. I'm new here—"
"Obviously. Why did you think I freaked out?"
There went that twitch again. Slowly, calmly, Twilight said, "Again, I'm new here. I don't know what's going on yet."
Todd opened his mouth, only to snap it shut and shake his head. "Oh no. I'm not falling for this. I'm loyal to the cause, I swear. You don't have to go and throw around the big guns, I'm loyal!"
"Okay. You're loyal." Twilight spoke as though to one of Fluttershy's more skittish animals. "Loyal to what? To whom?"
"You're just trying to confuse me." Todd shuddered. "Or worse, you're not." He cowered behind the counter, forelegs over his head. "I've done nothing wrong!"
Twilight sighed and released her spells. "Okay, Todd. I'm leaving. And I'm sorry."
She walked out of the store shamefaced. Just because she wanted to understand what was going on didn't excuse that kind of behavior.
Foalish laughter brought her head up. The colorful foals she'd spotted earlier stood just a bit down the road.
"Okay, I can make up for that. This should be easy. Just like dealing with the Crusaders." Twilight trotted towards the two, her most approachable smile on her muzzle. "Hi there."
"Hi..." The stereophonic greeting started off happily, but soon trailed off to uncertainty. The foals looked at one another, each shaking their head in turn.
When they turned back, it was with awe-filled gazes. "You're new," said the unicorn.
"What's your name?"
Twilight smiled and sat, putting her close to eye level for them. "I'm Twilight Sparkle. And you?"
Once more, they looked at each other as though confronting some strange new situation. "She's new," said the pegasus. "That means we're new to her."
"That makes sense. Hi, I'm Corn!"
"And I'm Peg!"
Twilight felt very proud of herself for keeping a straight face at that. "Are those short for something?"
"Well..." Peg looked down, dragging the tip of her forehoof against the sidewalk. "Yeah, but I don't really like my full name."
Corn nodded. "And I'm not going to call her Square Peg if she doesn't like it!"
She glared at him. "Cornpone!"
"Sorry."
Very, very proud of herself. "Corn and Peg it is."
"What brings you here, Twilight Sparkle?" said Corn.
Peg's eyes lit up. "Do you need our help?"
"I think I do. What do you know about a mare named Thunderhoof?"
Both gasped and grinned. "You mean Captain Thunderhoof?" said Corn.
Twilight filed away the continued use of the rank. "I suppose I do."
Peg shot into the air in her excitement. "Captain Thunderhoof is the greatest do-gooder of all time!"
"'Is'? That is, is she?" Twilight felt it best not to ask how long this particular Captain Thunderhoof had been around. After all, it might be an inherited title. Twilight herself was part of a dynasty that stretched back to Dream Valley, according to legend.
"Oh yeah!" the foals chorused.
"She gets toys out of trees with the Tornado of Helpfulness!" Peg flew circles around Twilight to demonstrate.
"And when she finds a mean—"
A rush of air and a heavy thump sounded behind Twilight, cutting off Corn. "I was wondering why my ears were burning," said a jolly alto.
The foals gasped with delight, looking at the source of the impact. Twilight turned to look, and her jaw dropped. "Princess Celestia?"
But as soon as Twilight said it, she realized this wasn't Celestia. The mane, though silky and shining, was just hair, colored like the sky at noon rather than a flowing aurora. The body proportions were wrong: the barrel and neck almost stallion-like in their thickness, the wings almost comically exaggerated, the legs absurdly short and thin, and the gold-capped hooves smaller than a foal's. The peytral didn't contain an amethyst, but instead displayed the mare's cutie mark, a thunderbolt bisecting an inverted horseshoe. And what Twilight had taken as a horn must have been part of the golden tiara. No unicorn horn could possibly bend like a lightning bolt.
The conclusion would have been clear even without the context. "Captain Thunderhoof, I presume."
The alicorn and the impostor held each other's gaze and smile for what felt like minutes. It was familiar territory for Twilight; she just had to tell herself she was making nice with Trixie for Starlight's sake. Thunderhoof's own expression seemed genial, but there was something in those eyes, something that might be fear or scorn or a grudge sixty years in the making. Twilight wasn't sure, but she knew it wasn't friendly.
"Um, so... yeah!"
"She's Captain Thunderhoof alright!"
Both blinked as they remembered that Corn and Peg were still there. Twilight coughed into a fetlock and tried to be as polite as she could to this particular Trixie for the sake of her tiny Starlights. "Allow me to introduce myself." She extended a hoof. "I am Twilight Sparkle. I've been looking for you for some time."
"I see." The immense Thunderhoof bumping her tiny hoof against Twilight's might have bordered on the surreal if the entire afternoon hadn't been well inside those borders. "It must have been very important to track me down."
"I believe so." Twilight stared into Thunderhoof's eyes, trying to suss out just what lay there. "Potentially critical."
All she got was a raised eyebrow. "My word. We'll have to address this posthaste."
"I couldn't agree more."
Twin gasps drew their attention back to Corn and Peg. "Does that mean you're a do-gooder?" said the former.
Twilight permitted herself a bit of pride as she nodded. "I certainly am, yes."
"You two could team up!" cried Peg.
Corn nodded, so excited he started shooting sparks. "You'd be the greatest do-gooders ever!"
Thunderhoof smiled at them. "We would, wouldn't we?"
"Yeah!" chorused the foals. Peg kept going. "You can show her the Beam of Friendship and everything!"
"I believe I've heard about that particular technique," said Twilight, her voice kept deliberately neutral. "It's made quite the impact on some ponies."
Thunderhoof gave a smile that, much like her tone and body, felt like an imitation of Celestia's. "You could certainly say that. I imagine you have many questions."
"More than a few, yes. And I'd certainly like to see your particular brand of... 'do-gooding.'"
"Certainly." Thunderhoof spread her wings. "Follow me."
"Aww, we won't get to see it?"
Thunderhoof smiled down at the groaning foal. "We do good for its own sake, Corn, not for the sake of spectators. Coming, Twilight?"
"Certainly." Twilight took the first few moments of the flight to organize her questions into mental flash cards. Once the deck was sorted, she said, "So—"
"I'm sure you have many questions, Twilight, but I must ask you to wait first. There is something you must see that should clear up most of your confusion." Both were silent for a few seconds. "You know, I thought you might come to see me some day."
Twilight's surprise made her bobble in her flight. "You know who I am?"
After a moment, Thunderhoof shook her head and smiled. "No reason to make you wait when I baited out the question in the first place."
"Assuming I can believe it," Twilight said with a scowl.
"Twilight, I swear on the very concept of Harmony that I will not lie to you. In any case, I've tried to keep a few eyes and ears out in the wider world as most of my ponies built our town. And they have had some very interesting things to say about you." Thunderhoof chuckled. "To say nothing of the newspapers that pegasus insists on airdropping, and the Friendship Journal."
Twilight sighed. "Ponies keep finding new uses for that book that I never intended."
The chuckles continued. "Telling ponies what to think by simply giving them information and expecting them to work it out on their own rarely works out."
"I wasn't—"
"Weren't you?" Thunderhoof's smile took a turn for the predatory. "What would you call that school you're building if not a place to shape young hearts and minds to your liking?"
Twilight snorted. She'd read enough of Caballeron's rants to see where this was going. "I suppose this is where you say, 'We're not so different, you and I.'"
"Because we aren't. We each want nothing more than to improve Equestria. See it stand strong, yet elevate the other nations along with it."
"Except you'd do it by tearing down those other nations and rebuilding on the ruins."
Thunderhoof's smile narrowed to a smug smirk. "Would I? You've seen Galloping Grove. Does this town look like an army in training to you?"
Twilight stayed silent for an uncomfortable stretch. When it became clear that Thunderhoof was waiting for her response, she said, "No. It doesn't." She glared at Thunderhoof. "It looks like you've been smuggling in technology from other universes."
"How very astute of you. Though smuggling is such an ugly word." Thunderhoof glanced down and smiled. "Ah, wonderful timing. Follow me, Twilight. This is what I wanted to show you." Once they landed, she spread out wings and forehooves both. "Behold, Twilight Sparkle. The heart of Galloping Grove."
Twilight beheld. Eventually, she shrugged her wings and said "It's a lake." It was, admittedly, a nice lake. Almost perfectly circular, with crystal clear waters that, from this angle, perfectly reflected Galloping Grove's humble skyline.
Thunderhoof nodded. "A lake that has been instrumental in everything I have accomplished since my little wager with Celestia."
Twilight blinked, all her theories crumbling in her mind. "Wait, your wager?"
"Of course. Who else?"
"The first Thunderhoof." Twilight found herself half-shouting to make herself heard over the ongoing collapse. "Your predecessor. Right?"
"The first... Oh!" Thunderhoof shook her head. "Twilight, I'm afraid you're laboring under a misapprehension."
As the mental dust settled, all Twilight could say was "What."
"Hard as it may be to believe, I am the same Thunderhoof who tried to supplant Celestia sixty-two years ago."
"How could that possibly be? You'd be well into your nineties. A pegasus of that age..." Twilight trailed off as Thunderhoof began tittering behind a hoof, inasmuch as she could do anything behind one of her hooves. "What's so funny?"
"You, of all ponies," said Thunderhoof, "asking how somepony could achieve incredible longevity."
"You..." Twilight shook her head as she processed the implications. "No. No, that's impossible. That's impossible on multiple levels."
Thunderhoof just smiled. Her tiara glowed from within and slid off of a short but clearly functional horn.
"What."
"Are you familiar with Cranke's Third Law?"
The chance to lecture got Twilight's train of thought back on track. "Of course. The amount of magic used to produce sufficiently advanced technology is indeterminate. Meaning that technical refinement can theoretically replicate any..." She trailed off as she reached the implied conclusion. "You can't possibly expect me to believe that you ascended by smuggling in technology from the human world."
Thunderhoof shrugged her wings and lit her horn. "The only thing I expect you to believe is the evidence of your eyes. When I first came out of the portal with technical manuals in tow, I also had a horn." She gave a sheepish smile. "The other changes came later."
"And Celestia never noticed."
"Why would she?" Thunderhoof said with a tilt of her head.
"Why would she?" Twilight narrowed her eyes. "So, you just came out of the portal with a horn? No light show, no fanfare, no cleaning the carbonized remains of your former body off of the library floor?"
"Not all ascensions are as... dramatic as yours, Twilight."
Twilight scowled, but ceded the point. For now. It wasn't as though she had a lot of data to work with there. "So where is this portal?"
Thunderhoof smiled. "You didn't think I brought you here at random, did you?"
She touched her horn to the lake, sending out a single, massive ripple. In that ripple's wake, the reflection of Galloping Grove was replaced by a different, taller skyline. The moment was only slightly undercut by a swan's legs poking out of the lake's surface, then retracting back to the distorted sound of distressed honking.
Twilight all but physically picked her jaw up off of the ground. She reached into the water. Through the much less dramatic ripples, she could see a hand on the other side of the surface. She waved her fingers about, noting that her skin had turned an even paler peach than the human Applejack or Flash Sentry. "The entire lake is a portal."
"Indeed," Thunderhoof said as if she were discussing some novel new magical appliance. "It used to be much smaller, but it responded very well to expansion efforts."
Caution brought swift death to curiosity. Twilight took several steps back from the edge, shaking off her foreleg as she said, "I see."
Thunderhoof frowned. "Afraid I'm going to knock you in?"
"The thought did cross my mind, yes."
That got a sigh. "Twilight, I want nothing more sinister than to work with you. We want the same thing. Together, we could spread friendship and Harmony across this world and others!" Thunderhoof looked off into some wondrous fantasy future. "Imagine it, a society uniting multiple universes, guided by your hoof."
Twilgiht narrowed her eyes. "And yours."
"Well, I would expect some degree of input."
"And not Celestia's."
Thunderhoof rolled her eyes. "I have no quarrel with Celestia. She was right; overt conquest would destroy everything I'd hoped to cultivate."
"As opposed to covert conquest."
"Is that not what you've done with the yaks? The dragons? The changelings?"
"I—" Twilight stopped as pieces came together in her mind. The glazed expressions, the dulled minds, the loyalist afraid of a "Friendship Beam." "Of course."
Thunderhoof beamed, though thankfully without any capital letters. "It is wonderful to hear you understand—"
"Not that. It all makes sense now." Twilight planted her hooves and pointed her horn at Thunderhoof. "Everything fits together perfectly."
"I'm... not sure I understand."
Twilight lit her horn, preparing a spell she had developed with Thorax's help. As she cast it, she said, "I should have known you'd have a side project like this, Chrysalis."
Once the spell struck Thunderhoof, her body went up in flames, just as Twilight had expected... except the flames were magma red rather than acid green. Once they died down, they still revealed a changeling queen, but those parts of the queen's porous carapace that weren't black followed the same color scheme. Between that, the close-cropped mane and tail, and the furious snarl, Twilight realized just how badly she'd just messed up.
"Chrysalis?" scoffed the changeling, whose horn really did bend like a lightning bolt. "Chrysalis is a brainless dolt! I am Queen Photuris, the greatest ally Equestria never knew it had!"
Twilight passed through several emotions in quick succession: Surprise, of course. Then relief that she'd finally found something that made this all make sense. Then concern that her reaction to unmasking an unreformed, irate changeling queen was relief. "Um... sorry?"
Photuris quivered with rage from horn to tail. One of her eyelids twitched as she forced words out through gritted teeth. "I suppose I can assume that you're not interested in helping me?"
"Definitely not," said Twilight, still sorting out how she felt about this revelation.
That conflict resolved itself quickly, because standing in front of a pouncing changeling queen does wonders for mental clarity.
A quick teleport three feet to the right left Photuris eating dirt. Twilight then took off, not caring which way she went so long as it took her away from Galloping Grove.
The fuchsia-eyed swarm of unreformed changeling drones rising in front of her didn't seem to care much for that idea.
Twilight sped forward anyway, a spell charging on her horn. Just like with Nightmare Moon, she'd get them to commit, then teleport behind them. This time, she'd just keep going.
Then a thin beam struck her from below, and the teleport unraveled before she could even cast it. "You're not getting away with that twice, Sparkle!" Photuris cried as she rose.
Twilight banked left. This was hardly her first encounter with a dimensional anchor, though this time there were far higher stakes than the kitchen cookie jar. She didn't have the time to dispel it, so she'd have to head back to the town proper. No matter how placid the townsponies were, they'd still react to a changeling swarm.
Sure, said her inner critic. A changeling swarm that could compel them to forget about the disruption and go about their days, blissfully radiating love none the wiser.
Twilight pressed on anyway, dodging diving drones and horn blasts alike. It wasn't like the forest was any better.
One shot nailed her left wing at the base, turning flapping into agony. Twilight gritted her teeth and went into a glide, shedding far too much altitude with every evasive maneuver as Galloping Grove came into view. Yes, the forest definitely wasn't any better.
"The forest might have been better."
Twilight's plan had started off strongly. The changelings had fallen back, she'd been able to land and trot into town, and the townsponies seemed at best mildly interested in the mare with the scorched wing. Then chimes and buzzes sounded across the town, prompting ponies to take out their phones, gasp, and canter off.
"What's going on?" she'd asked one mare.
"Emergency alert! Everyone needs to get in their homes, lock the doors, and close the blinds!"
Within moments, Twilight was the only pony still outside, not counting any and all changelings who could now pursue her with impunity.
She galloped with no real goal in mind beyond staying a moving target. She tried extending her bad wing. Just spreading it sent agony dancing along her nerves. "Now I know how Daring Do feels," she said, fighting back a hiss. "Wonder if she's been through here yet."
A droning buzz approached, all too similar to what had filled the air during the wedding invasion. Twilight looked around. Aside from a few storefront awnings, everywhere was visible from the air. Any hideaways were no longer an option after the emergency alert, which itself said volumes about the degree of control Photuris had over the city.
Twilight made for the densest part of the town, going for alleyways that would minimize the effectiveness of swarm tactics. But even that might not help.
It all boiled down to one simple difference. Chrysalis was ultimately a bully who had wielded her troops like a cudgel. But Photuris was a trained military officer, one who had actually thought about how to use her forces effectively.
The buzz swept overhead, shadows speckling the sky and ground alike. None dove down like in the Canterlot invasion, but a trio soon sprang out from behind a newsstand. Then the newsstand itself flashed into deep red flames and resolved itself as another pair of ambushers.
Twilight made quick work of them. She still couldn't teleport or get any altitude, but horn blasts, quick hoofwork, and a few bucks to faceplates did the job.
It also worked for the next group.
And the next.
And the next.
The one after that managed to tackle her to the ground, forcing her to burn a lot of magic in an expanding shield before subduing them.
The one after that...
After a short eternity, Twilight staggered into an alley, sides heaving and limp wings dragging. She collapsed onto a nice soft garbage bag, trying very hard not to think about why it was soft. One hoof reached for her earring. "Okay. Got a moment to myself. Time for the con—"
"Twilight!" said a familiar voice.
She straightened up as best she could. "Moondancer?"
Further in the alley, Moondancer's head poked out from behind a trash can. She waved. "Over here!"
"What are you—" Twilight stopped, groaned, and blasted Moondancer in the face. She winced at the burning sensation in her horn as much as the realization. "Right, changelings."
A bolt hit Twilight in the back of the head. She tipped forward, and halfway into the garbage bag's embrace, the sensation of falling became a cross between a falling accordion glissando and a deepening shade of blue. Just before her senses grew so scrambled that she passed out from sheer incoherence, Twilight thought to herself, "I can't believe I fell for that."
Twilight awoke to a far too familiar experience, a cavern dimly lit by bioluminescent slime and rank with the sour chemical smell of changeling secretions. An attempt to wriggle confirmed that she was encased in the stuff. When she tried to channel magic, she got a feeling not unlike trying to exhale through a stuffed nose, so it was covering her horn as well. She tried to cover her revulsion by observing how red slime gave the cave a more volcanic aspect than Chrysalis's lair.
"Ah, good, you're awake." Photuris stepped out of the shadows and into the slightly less dim shadows, the same serene expression she'd worn as Thunderhoof on her muzzle. She dipped her head towards Twilight. "Please allow me to apologize for letting my temper get the best of me. No changeling reacts well to getting exposed."
Twilight scowled at her. "That apology might carry a bit more weight if I weren't literally up to my neck in structural spittle, to say nothing of the glob on my horn."
Photuris lay on the ground and lit her own horn. The substance beneath warped and bubbled like rising dough, forming a plush-looking divan. Twilight tried not to think about the stuffing. "The way I see it," said the queen, "this way neither of us runs the risk of doing something that might provoke a harsh response from the other."
"Speaking from experience, I will need at least eight hours and most of the hot water in Ponyville to feel clean again. You have most certainly provoked a harsh response from me already." Twilight didn't dwell on the key assumption in that statement. She would get out of this. Somehow.
Photuris grinned at her. "You probably shouldn't have told me that. But it's not like we're going to get anywhere by lying to one another."
"That's rich coming from you."
"I swore I wouldn't lie to you, Twilight, and I held myself to that. Shaped the truth, yes, but never fabricated a lie." Before Twilight could dispute that, Photuris added, "Much like how you chose not to mention your title when you introduced yourself."
"I didn't think you'd react well to an alicorn princess nosing in on your business," Twilight muttered.
That got a throaty chuckle. "As opposed to one of the many alicorn commoners running around Equestria."
Twilight winced. "I... was kind of hoping the town's isolation would make that believable."
Photuris nodded. "Fair enough. Especially since I kept my true identity hidden from you for similar reasons. After all, a pegasus or an alicorn could have strange ideas, but as a fellow pony, surely they'd just be misguided, and might even be worth listening to. But a changeling?" She gasped and brought a hoof to her mouth. "Especially a changeling queen?" She shook her head. "The moment you even thought I wasn't what I appeared to be, you decided I was evil incarnate."
"You pounced at me, kept me from escaping, and sent wave after wave of your drones at me until I was exhausted enough for a bait-and-switch sneak attack. Plus, let's not forget my current accommodations." Twilight let that sink in for a moment. "And that's just what you've done to me. I think I had good reason for that decision."
"Again, my instincts were working against me. The idea of letting you go wasn't just strategically unsound, it was literally unthinkable. You were an intruder in the hive, knew our secret, and had to be dealt with accordingly."
Twilight rolled her eyes. "So your instincts had the better of you for what, ten minutes?"
"Far less." Photuris smirked behind her tented hooves. "But then I decided to turn it into an... experiment, shall we say."
Twilight found herself intrigued in spite of herself. Photuris might have been a parasitic bug, but she had brought in technologies that could revolutionize Equestria and adapted them at workable scales. "How so?"
"I was hardly the only creature whose instincts were in play. While my children were getting into position, you had ample time to dispel the dimensional anchor. But you didn't. Why do you think that is?"
It was uncomfortably like one of Celestia's pop quizzes. An idly asked question in the middle of a lesson, laying bare a cognitive failing Twilight didn't even know she had. "Because... because..."
"Because you were injured, alone, and afraid. 'Stillness is death,' said the horse brain, but you had nowhere to go, so you milled about aimlessly until I offered you less abstract opposition. Once you had a foe you could wrap your head around, you were back in control, but kept on the back hoof. And by the time you started working with this—" An orifice opened on Photuris's couch and produced the contingency earring. "—it was too late." She spun the earring in her magic, contemplating each facet. "You needed a miracle to win, and for once in your thoroughly charmed life, there wasn't one." The magic bubble imploded and the crystal crumbled to dust. "In a way, it's a microcosm of Equestria's military shortcomings."
"Was that really necessary?"
Photuris tilted her head, still smiling. "Destroying your contingency or the extended metaphor?"
"Yes," Twilight deadpanned.
"Twilight, I respect you too much to give you any potential edge before I've had a chance to make my case. As for the comparison, it was the central disagreement Celestia and I had. I may not be as invested in preemptive strikes as I was back then, but one need only look back at the last few years to see that our nation is woefully unprepared to withstand any form of military aggression."
"'Our nation'?" said Twilight
Photuris sighed and rose, her couch melting back into the floor. She began to pace. "Yes. Our nation. Believe what you like, I still consider myself an Equestrian." A moment's pause, then a moment's smile. "Bureaucratically speaking, I've been several Equestrians. And everything I have done, I have done for Equestria."
"Like kidnap humans from a universe without chromelanin and feed on them until they're practically drooling in the streets." Twilight's paleness on the other side of the lake portal neatly explained the predominance of orange in the townsfolk.
"Another tactical omission on my part, though 'kidnap' is a very strong term. Many volunteered. You'd be surprised how many people in that world would happily give up their thumbs in exchange for a peaceful, fulfilling country life with gainful employment and familiar conveniences." The grin returned, this time a friendly sort, like Photuris was sharing some private joke with Twilight. "Sometimes I wonder if their phones are doing more to deaden their minds than my hive is."
Twilight was in no mood for jokes. "Many volunteered. Not all."
"A portal of that size is bound to attract unwanted witnesses, even when we own the land on the other side."
"You do?"
"Well, Lampyrid Solutions, LLC does. Same difference." Photuris booped Twilight on the nose, drawing back her hoof before Twilight could even think to snap at it. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you about the power of paperwork."
Twilight all but spat out her next words, angrier at twisting bureaucracy for evil ends than the indignity. "So. The witnesses?"
"Yes. Sometimes we bring them through just long enough to convince them it didn't happen; much more energy efficient than doing so on their side. Other times, it turns out they're drifters who won't be missed." Photuris gave a beatific grin that she definitely copied from Celestia. "Why let their lives go to waste when they can be part of something so much greater?"
"How magnanimous," Twilight deadpanned.
Photuris scowled and stomped a hoof. "You see, it's that exact attitude that made me destroy that earring. You're barely even listening to me; you're just spending this time trying to think of way to escape the dastardly clutches of the changeling queen."
"I'm in your dastardly clutches."
"I don't deny that. The clutches, anyway. The dastardry is up for debate, or at least should be. All I ask is that you listen with an open mind." Photuris sighed. "I suppose that's asking a lot from Celestia's personal student after she's crossed horns with the viridian idiot a few times. Still, I had hoped that this investigation into me might have made you a bit receptive to other points of view." More quietly, she added. "Of course, that information did come secondhoof..."
Twilight tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
Photuris froze for a moment before clicking her tongue. "I'm too used being able to speak freely while undisguised. Very well. I wasn't planning on divulging this much, but call it a show of goodwill."
At some unsensed command, a drone came in from the darker recesses of the hive. A burst of red, and it took the form of Moondancer. "Over here, Twilight!" she said, a mocking smile on her stolen muzzle as she waved.
"No mocking our guest, Luciferin," said Photuris. She turned to Twilight. "Now, how did you think we knew that this mare would distract you?"
Twilight could only see a few possibilities, and she didn't like any of them. "I wasn't sure how good your intel on me was. I thought you might have, I don't know, plucked her out of my mind or something."
"Pfft. I wish it were that easy," said Luciferin, still wearing Moondancer's form. She turned to Photuris. "Commander, she clearly hasn't figured it out. Are you sure—"
"Yes. I know how wrong this feels, little one, but this is Twilight Sparkle we're dealing with. If anypony can be swayed through open, logical discussion, it's her." Photuris nodded at Twilight. "And I do mean that as a compliment. On that note, do you see where I'm going with this?"
"Last night at the library..." Twilight shook her head, unwilling to finish the thought aloud.
"And afterwards. You really are the Princess of Friendship." The admiration in Photuris's voice was worse than any scorn spoken by Chrysalis. "Who else could feel a purely Braytonic bond so intensely that it could nourish as much as love?"
Twilight glared at her. "What did you do with the real Moondancer?"
"Nothing. She was seeing a play with her other friends at the time. We were already aware of your interest in me and wanted to see what you knew thus far."
"Really says something when you're better at opsec than the..." Luciferin trailed off as she noticed her queen's glare. She returned to her true form and backed away. "I'm just going to go now."
Photuris watched her do so. "As you can see, my more radical ideas still haven't quite caught on in my own hive."
Twilight gave that a vague nod, more concerned with recalling what she had said when. "You've infiltrated the Wonderbolts."
"More like my influence never fully left. I have a long history with the 'Bolts, Twilight. I make sure they're in good hooves."
"But you don't have any eyes in the palace or Ponyville."
Photuris gritted her teeth. "To my continuing frustration, no. Celestia's balcony is too high-risk, while Pinkie Pie and long-term infiltration do not mix. And that's saying nothing of Thorax's counterspies and the one you know as 'Kevin.'"
Twilight filed that away for later. Assuming there was a later. Which she still was. "Still, with such a comprehensive intelligence network, you must know that you don't need to steal love."
"Of course. We discovered the process decades before Thorax and Starlight Glimmer stumbled upon it. And the drones who volunteered for the tests made for fantastic infiltrators. At first, nopony would have seen them as dangerous. These days, they assume they're part of Thorax's hive. But that metamorphosis runs against the vision I have of our two races living in harmony."
"Of course you have a vision." Twilight tried not to roll her eyes. Really, she did.
Photuris smiled regardless. "Indeed. Just look at Galloping Grove. We developed a way of life that changed the pony-changeling dynamic from parasitism to a true symbiosis. In exchange for food, we offer safety, security, comforts and luxuries unimagined by the rest of Equestria. My children and I have gone from wolves to sheepdogs."
"Implying ponies are sheep."
"You can't tell me you don't envy the life of a sheep at times. No expectations, no obligations, literally growing your rent from almost every inch of your skin. And ponies, like sheep, are poorly suited for combat."
Twilight snorted. "Take the gunk off my horn and we can test that hypothesis."
"Alicorns are statistical outliers by definition," said Photuris, waving away the point with a forehoof. "And as we saw, even you aren't exactly combat-hardened. Celestia wields the power of the sun itself, but she is a teacher and a politician at heart, not a warrior. Luna? I've heard rumors, but seen nothing to suggest that she'd break from her big sister's lead. Not after last time. And we both know how well the Princess of Food handles herself."
"You clearly never saw her during the last months of her pregnancy."
"I'll take your word for it. And speaking of Flurry Heart..." Photuris bobbed her head from side to side. "Well, we'll see what becomes of her. But you all represent ponykind's best and brightest. Out of the lot, you have the best track record of late, and that includes all of Equestria's armed forces considered as a single sixth alicorn. And against me, with no time to prepare, you showed all the tactical acumen of a loaf of bread. Face it, Twilight, we're better at this than you, and there is no shame in that. In my system, we can each play to our strengths. You grow and love and frolic. We can keep watch from the shadows."
"And humans?" said Twilight. "Where do they fit into this?"
"Humans can do what they do best: Invent. Innovate. Bend that merciless, magicless world of theirs to their will. And we can duplicate the fruits of their labors here." Photuris shook her head. "Thank goodness for miniaturization. You don't want to know what we went through to get a car through the portal. Thankfully, some transformed humans have much more portable knowledge and skills, and changeling biomancy covers many of the exotic human materials that we don't have on hoof." She grinned. "You didn't think those phones were all made of plastic and circuitry, did you?"
Twilight fought her rising gorge again. "That's disgusting."
"Progress is often messy."
"So in this utopian system of yours, why are the few humans who have some idea of what's actually happening so afraid?"
Photuris's eyes widened in recollection. "That's right, you met Todd. He made sure to report the incident. Really, he's everything I could ask for in a stallion: Considerate, honest, easily bribed with comics and collectible cardboard."
"Terrified of you," said Twilight.
"Terrified of what he thinks I am. He cowers at a story he tells himself based on the stories he heard in his home, ones full of alien abductions and pacifying lobotomies."
Twilight had seen human science fiction for herself, but that still left one datum unaccounted for. "And the Beam of Friendship?"
"A bit of theater put on for the foals. One you inspired, actually. Luciferin?"
The drone scuttled back into view and shifted into a disheveled, dirt-brown earth colt. "Hurr hurr hurr," it laughed in a voice like Snails trying to sound menacing. "I'm Sliigo, and I'm not nice!"
Photuris assumed her Thunderhoof form again. "I will show you the error of your ways!"
"I'd like to see you try!"
One beam of light later, "Sliigo" had his coat brushed, his mane combed, and his ragged shirt replaced with something involving a ruffle color that would drive Rarity to bloodshed. "I'm sorry, Captain Thunderhoof," the drone said in the same voice as before. "I'm going to go do volunteer work at an animal shelter now." It trotted off into the hive.
Twilight digested this for a moment. "That's horrifying on multiple levels. Also vaguely insulting."
Photuris shrugged her wings, then returned to her true form. "There are those who read more into it than what's intended, but I can hardly be blamed for their overactive imaginations. Actual compulsion spells are far more subtle when cast competently."
"So Corn and Peg?"
Photuris tilted her head. "What about them? They're just foals. Darling creatures, always so eager to help everyone they meet, but foals all the same." She drew back a step. "Did you actually think I had some kind of child soldier program planned? I may be pragmatic and ambitious, Twilight, but I'm not some mustache-twirling serial villain."
"I, I mean..." Twilight cleared her throat. The hurt in Photuris's voice had sounded so genuine, Twilight had to wriggle again to remind herself of her situation. "I only ask because they stand out. I thought they might be drones."
"Ah. They stand out because they were born here in Equestria. Much of their generation was. Part of the reason we recruited so heavily before was that many of my most loyal followers were drones. Our food supply was uncomfortably tight those first few years; that was why we experimented with metamorphosis in the first place. But as I said, that is a dead end."
"You said it just didn't mesh with your personal vision. What if you changed your own outlook?"
Photuris shook her head. "It's not that simple. Removing the changelings' need for love leaves them with no tangible incentive to look after ponies."
"Why would they need one in this perfect system of yours?"
"The same reason ponies need human technology to entice them, and humans need the splendor and opportunity Equestria offers. Change is hard, Twilight, and yes, I'm aware of the irony there. It took one of the wisest, most brilliant minds on the planet to get me to change my mind about how best to spread Harmony."
"Though that mind apparently isn't wise or brilliant enough to keep running her own country."
"Face it, you've outclassed her at this point." That left Twilight too shocked to respond. Photuris continued, "It took us decades to reach a point where Galloping Grove was a truly self-sustainable community, and I had to fend off more than a few attempts to overthrow me along the way. You've seen how dissent still simmers in the hive. And even humans who agreed to go through the portal reacted harshly when they first took in their new bodies."
"A common reaction." Twilight cleared her throat. "From what I've heard."
"I know the transition to my system will be anything but easy. Indeed, that's why I'm still trying to convince you. I know this seems strange. Misguided. Perhaps even evil." Photuris flicked her jagged horn with a porous hoof. "Coming from a changeling queen can't be doing it any favors. But if you look at it rationally, you'll see that this is the best for everyone involved."
It was, admittedly, a well-formed argument. Just one with a hole the size of the lake portal. "You're turning ponies into barely sapient livestock."
"That's just a consequence of scale. We've achieved self-sustainability, but we're far from my ideal proportion."
Twilight took a moment to process that. "You want more ponies per changeling?"
"Yes!" Photuris buzzed her wings the same way Thorax did whenever he was excited. "Once we can expand this system to the nation as a whole, once my hive can act openly, we can relax internal security to a massive degree."
Pieces came together in Twilight's mind. "So how many drones do you have in Buffalo?"
"An increasing number," Photuris admitted. "We've never performed a transition to the system in a pre-established community before, so the plan there errs on the side of caution. And once word of your investigation reached us, well, I'm sure you can see how that would be cause for concern."
"Enough to drain ponies until they thought I was Luna, apparently. And that's an impressive response time."
"It's not quite dragonfire, but—" A chittering noise cut off Photuris. She floated an oblong chunk of chitin out of her mane, looked at it, and sighed. "Excuse me, I have to take this." She brought it to her ear and started pacing again. "Hello?"
"Slow down, I can barely understand you."
Photuris came to a dead halt. "What do you mean they've mobilized!?"
Whatever the changeling on the other end had to say to that, Photuris just ended the call and practically threw her living phone back on top of her head. Snarling, she loomed over Twilight and said, "What did you do?"
Twilight couldn't help but smile. Changeling queens trying to intimidate her. Finally, she was back on familiar ground. "Celestia said your ego was your biggest weakness. Starlight Glimmer helped me get into the mind of that kind of mare. We figured you wouldn't be able to resist the chance to rub my helplessness in my muzzle." She smirked. "So we made an earring that would signal the Cutie Map when it was destroyed."
"No." Photuris backed away from Twilight. "No, you couldn't possibly have planned to get captured."
"Of course not. What did you think I was trying to do when that drone distracted me? But we did account for the possibility." Twilight focused on a thaumic frequency she'd been calculating throughout the discussion. Steam hissed from the glob of matter on her horn, and she teleported to Photuris's side before the queen could react. "Now, learning how to cast through changeling slime? That was just making sure I wouldn't get taken out the same way twice. Even if it did drive Pharynx up the wall."
Photuris glared at her. "You're still horribly outnumbered, Twilight. Even the Wonderbolts won't get here immediately, and this time, I might not bother keeping you conscious." Her expression shifted to the same sort of desperation Twilight had seen when Celestia had pleaded with Nightmare Moon. The queen extended her hoof. "But I would much rather work with you than against you, so I ask you one more time: Will you join me?"
Twilight looked at the offered hoof and found herself actually weighing the pros and cons. "I admit, you actually do have some good points. In a world without Thorax, this would be an excellent first step towards pony-changeling reconciliation."
Photuris sighed and let her foreleg fall. "I'm sensing a but."
If asked, Twilight would insist she took no satisfaction in seeing Photuris be the one to take a spell to the back of the head. Princesses were above such petty feelings.
The princess who delivered the spell planted a hoof on Photuris's narrow barrel, glaring at her as if waiting for an excuse to press down. "But you did not ward your hive against spacial gates," said Luna, her portal fading to nothing behind her.
Three hissing drones sprang at Luna. She whirled to face them, but even a fraction of a second was enough for Photuris to slip out from under her and hover near the chamber's ceiling, which rose even as she did.
More drones approached, some from doorways that hadn't been there a moment ago.
Luna sneered, horn ablaze. "Come then. Face the true darkness, vermin!"
"Fool! Do you realize all I've done for you?" Flames consumed Photuris, and the compact Thunderhoof from the old photo stood snarling in her place. "I was Thunderhoof!" She transformed again, into a pink mare with a bright blue mane. "I was Firefly!" Again, this time a scarred mare who has all stormy grays. "I was Hurri—"
Between one moment and the next, Luna went from a few feet beneath Photuris to standing over her prone body once more, glowing horn at her throat. "We stood at Hurricane's funeral. We wept as Pansy lit the pyre and the commander's ashes rejoined the sky. Thou shalt not profane her name in Our presence, insect!" The light intensified. The drones tensed.
STOP!
The drones stopped. Luna stopped. For a brief moment, everyone in the chamber was so still, it was as if time had stopped.
And as the echoes of Twilight Sparkle's Royal Canterlot Voice faded, she made to heave Luna off of the changeling queen and said, "It is my expert opinion that this is a friendship problem. We are going to solve it like one."
In a perfect world, that would have been that. Both would have agreed with Twilight, and together they would have resolved everything to the satisfaction of every pony, changeling, and human involved in a way that fit neatly on a one-page checklist.
Twilight was painfully aware that this was not a perfect world. Luna wasn't budging. Literally not budging from her position atop Photuris with her horn at the queen's throat. She didn't even take her eyes off of Photuris as she said, "Thy merciful heart does thee credit, Twilight, but forget not that this fiend would swallow it whole."
Twilight tried her best to keep her frustration out of her voice. "That's the thing. She's trying not to be fiendish."
"She is a changeling, Twilight. Deception is their blood and falsehood their every breath. She would claim to be thy own mother if it stayed thy hoof."
Photuris gave an uneasy smile. "I'm willing to admit that Hurricane was overreaching."
Luna pressed the tip of her horn against the queen's chitin. The drones surrounding them tensed and crouched. "Silence, insect. Thy betters are speaking."
"Okay, Luna?" Twilight took a few slow steps towards her. "First of all, I need you to calm down enough to use modern pronouns. Can you do that for me?"
"Treating me like a foal having a tantrum makes that no easier, but for th—" Luna gritted her teeth. "For you, Twilight, I can make the effort."
"Okay. Good. I don't suppose I can convince you to stop trying to stab Photuris in the—"
Luna's gaze pinned Twilight, making her uncomfortably aware of how the dark red lighting made Luna's coat look Nightmarishly black. "Neigh, you cannot."
"Well, foal steps." Twilight carefully disregarded the incredulous looks that got from every changeling in the room, Photuris included. "Secondly, Thorax."
"Thorax is an aberration among aberrations. A welcome one, but an anomaly all the same. This one is—"
Twilight took the opening the moment she saw it. "She's someone you can understand better than you think."
For a moment, Luna just stared at Twilight, her "what modern nonsense be this" face on full display, halfway between confusion and scorn. "In what way?"
"She's trying to be Celestia."
"She's what?"
"I'm what?"
Twilight turned to Photuris. "Even putting aside the big white alicorn disguise and the imitated mannerisms, you're trying to protect your people as you establish your rule in a politically hostile land. You plan on relaxing that protection and letting them flourish more on their own once the situation stabilizes. That's the first hundred or so years of Celestia's rule in a nutshell. And let's not forget your personal students."
Luna arched an eyebrow, horn still at Photuris's throat. "Personal students?"
"A pair of foals who utterly adore her, and to whom she's teaching truly valuable lessons. But she's also making the same mistakes as Celestia."
"Being so sure of herself and her beloved stratagems that she cannot change direction even as she charges towards disaster?" Luna scoffed.
Twilight cleared her throat. "Not how I would put it, but... yes. I should know, I have similar moments myself. It's what happens when we both try to model our rule on the same pony. Photuris, I do believe that you want what's best for Equestria, but your methods aren't needed anymore. You said it yourself, change is hard." Twilight offered the queen a smile. "Do you think you can change your mind?"
Photuris looked back and forth between the alicorns. "Even if I say yes, I'm not sure if Luna will believe me."
"I will not." Luna gave Twilight an only slightly less scathing look than the one she was using on the changelings. "And why do you say I could understand a creature striving to be my sister?"
"Luna. Come on."
After a moment, Luna sighed, but still didn't move. "All right, yes, that was a foolish question. But she is a changeling queen all the same, Twilight, one who nearly usurped my sister's throne through guile. How can you trust such a creature?"
Twilight put a fair amount of scathe in her own expression. "I don't know. How do you think I trust a mare who tried to usher in eternal night?"
"... I find myself appreciating this side of you far less now than I did last night."
Photuris sputtered at that. That brought Luna's attention back to her. "Very well, creature—"
"Luna, she has a name."
"I am aware. Heed my words, o twisted foulness of the nether realm given grotesque flesh. By the grace of one infinitely your superior in all ways imaginable, I may spare you despite my own better judgement."
"You're doing this just to spite me, aren't you?" Twilight grumbled.
Luna's lips curved into the faintest hint of a grin. "Indeed. You are nearly as much fun to nettle as Tia." That grin vanished the moment she brought her attention back to the queen. "As for you, my mercy comes with conditions: Withdraw your foul spawn and grant us safe egress from your noisome lair."
"You heard her, everyone," Photuris said without hesitation.
Gasps rang out from the ring of changelings. One said, "But, Commander—"
"That's an order. The targets are too high-value and our position is too compromised. Even if we win the battle, we'll lose the war. Besides, their reinforcements will be arriving topside soon." Photuris looked to Twilight as she rose, Luna working the kinks out of her own neck. "And I assume you'll want to be there to tell them to stand down."
"I do," said Twilight. She put a hoof on the queen's withers. "But I want you to be able to tell them your side of the story."
Photuris shook her head. "Twilight, you just saw how Luna reacted to my very existence. What makes you think the rest of Equestria will actually listen?"
"That's your biggest problem, the problem with your entire plan. To put it bluntly—"
The cracking of Royal Canterlot Vertebrae interrupted Twilight. "The two of you may debate the merits of her mad scheme while we take our leave." Luna looked expectantly at Photuris, who nodded and led them out of the chamber. The drones buzzed away into the deeper shadows, though Twilight assumed they stayed close to their queen.
"I am really sorry about her," Twilight said to Photuris. "She still snarls at Pharynx."
"She also stands directly next to you," said Luna, who did. "Besides, I am all too familiar with the minds of those who rule from the shadows cast by brighter siblings. To suspect him is to grant him due respect."
Photuris edged more towards Twilight. "Putting aside the hornpoint diplomacy, what exactly were you trying to say?"
"It's like Luna said. You've put so much into this plan that you can't see that it's not necessary anymore. Thorax's hive—"
"Thorax's hive doesn't have access to the technology that mine does. For them, metamorphosis was the only viable way to survive after Chrysalis's foolishness. Our circumstances are entirely different. We can optimize pony-changeling relations to a point beyond anything they're capable of." Photuris shook her head, though she still kept moving, and the floor still sloped up. "I've thought about everything you might say, Twilight. This is for the best."
"I believe the modern term is 'Bingo.'"
Photuris glanced back at Luna. "Excuse me?"
"My sister and I thwarted many a foe in Equestria's infancy. Being 'for the best' was oft a popular excuse for the atrocities they performed. 'Worry not, sky sisters, the peasants will repopulate in time.' 'This is how it has always been done, holy ones, and it is for the greater good.' 'The sacrifices shall be glorified in the afterlife, kind strangers.'" Luna spat off to the side. "From what I gather, you have at least at least devised a novel evil, but its goodly guise is older than I."
Photuris turned up her nose at that. "I am working to create a society greater than anything any of the three species involved could create alone. My plan is Harmony incarnate."
"Aye? How many know they are working toward this grand goal? And how many exist merely to fill the bellies of those realizing this grand vision on their alleged behalf?"
"In time—"
"Oh, in time!" Luna all but bounced with feigned mirth. "Yea, let us look to the promised land of Tomorrow, where all feats are achieved and all plans are fulfilled, where messy reality may be forgotten and left in the dust of dismal Today."
Twilight swatted Luna with a wing before she could think too hard about the idea of smacking a diarch. "Luna, I'm trying to help Photuris."
"For reasons I cannot fathom." The two alicorns locked eyes for a short time. Twilight wasn't sure what Luna saw, but it got her to dip her head and say, "Very well, I will hold my peace. Proceed, Princess of Friendship."
"I will. Photuris, your constant focus on the same goal for so long, including how you prioritized your information network, made you miss an opportunity that opened up recently."
Photuris cocked her head to the side, eyes still forward. "Oh? What would that be?"
"Think about it. You've adapted so much human technology in ways that use your unique infrastructure." Twilight nodded to the thing in an adjacent chamber, which beat like a gigantic heart and put out enough electricity that she could feel it in her wings. "Instead of infiltrating Equestria culturally or politically, what if you approached us openly and economically?"
Photuris stumbled and looked back at her. "What?"
"What?" echoed Luna.
"I have access to another world of humans that appears to be advanced as the one you know, one with multiple geniuses who already know about both Equestria and human technology." Two, after all, still counted as multiple. "Magic is growing in that world, and it can only stay secret for so much longer. You could expand Lampyrid Solutions. Turn it into a legitimate multiversal trading company."
"That's..." Photuris shook her head. "What about love?"
"You already know the answer to that," said Twilight. "You refuse to let your hive transform because they need an incentive to work with ponies. If you openly integrate with Equestrian society, especially as a trading partner, you can offer them the same incentive that ponies and humans already have here."
"Changelings aren't exactly big on material goods," Photuris said without the absolute certainty that had stood behind her earlier statements.
"The exports to Thorax's hive say differently. Yes, you can live in a complex made of your own body fluids." Naturally, at that point the passage transitioned to packed dirt. Twilight took it in stride. "Ponies can live on the open plains and subsist on grass. But do you want to when there's a better option?"
After a few moments of silent walking, Photuris said, "There's still the issue of Equestria's defense."
"You can't put entire species in little specialized niches. That's not how we work. I know ponies who aren't happy little villagers, humans who aren't technical supergeniuses." Twilight moved to the queen's side and smiled up at her. "Your hive can have both merchants and soldiers."
They reached a door. Not some oscillating valve or dilating orifice, but a rectangle on hinges. Twilight stepped ahead of Photuris. "And you know what the thing is about spending years and years pursuing the same goal while hiding from everyone else?"
She opened the door. They walked out of a side building next to the town's cell tower, close enough to make out the chitinous texture and pulsating veins of the antenna. But that was barely noticeable compared to the skies over Galloping Grove.
Clouds of changelings darted at each other like colliding galaxies, torrents of black and pastel billowing out of each exchange. And on the edges of the conflict, pegasi in both armor and fabric flightsuits slammed down on any of Photuris's drones who lingered too far out of formation.
When the black drones tried to shift tactics and harry the harriers, the reformed changelings gathered together into a single massive wedge spearheaded by a point of forest green, charging forward in a vastly magnified version of the dive bombing from the Canterlot invasion and sending the locals scattering. At which point the pegasi started picking them off again.
On and on it went, Photuris's drones caught between hammer and anvil and never sure which was which.
"When you spend that long alone, the rest of the world working together might beat you to your goal," Twilight said as she watched. She wasn't sure how she looked at that point. She felt pride, yes, but also regret that she hadn't been able to resolve this without violence.
The pegasi and reformed changelings seemed to retreat to the ground, moving in an hourglass pattern that lured the pursuing drones together in a tight cluster just in time for a rainbow contrail to zoom down and smack them with a point-blank Rainboom.
Photuris flinched away from the brilliance. Twilight didn't even blink. "And then the world moves on and leaves you behind."
"That much I can confirm," said Luna.
"Strictly speaking, we don't need you." Twilight felt strangely detached as she said that. She's already drawn out the path of her logic. Now she was just following it to completion. "You had an amazing, daring idea. And now, so do we. We can use different materials, a different approach. But you can save us time and effort, and add so much to three different societies in the process." She held out her hoof to Photuris. "What do you say?"
The queen looked from face to hoof and back again. "You are a terrifying little pony, Twilight Sparkle."
Luna smiled and nodded. "She is at that."
"How did they train for this without my knowing? How did they know?"
"The signal to the Cutie Map included a snapshot of everything in the earring's vicinity, so they got a full picture of a lounging changeling queen. And they've been performing teamwork drills in the Badlands practically since Pharynx transformed. He insisted on giving Equestria an army he wouldn't be ashamed of working with."
Photuris closed her eyes. "I never bothered to look after Chrysalis." She lit her horn. Twilight took a step back, but then Thunderhoof's voice rang out across the city. Twilight could see one of the speakers by the cell tower, close enough to see the lips move behind the speaker grill. "Attention! This is Captain Thunderhoof. I ask that my forces stand down. There is no need for us to come to further blows. Princess Twilight Sparkle and I will meet the Equestrian representatives at Town Hall to negotiate reintegration procedures."
She opened her eyes and shook her head. "I have no idea if that worked. I have no idea if any of this is going to work."
"I think it will. Luna, we're going to need your help."
"If you will permit it," Luna said with a thin grin. "In what capacity?"
Twilight returned the expression. "The rescuers might think this is a trick and I'm just a drone imitating me, but no one will believe a changeling could imitate how you feel towards Photuris."
After a moment's thought, Luna nodded. "Indeed so." She smacked Photuris on the hindquarters with a wing. "Come, insect! Let us away to the bargaining table."
Twilight and Photuris both watched her fly off. Once Twilight picked her jaw up off the ground, she said, "That... wasn't what I had in mind."
"I don't suppose she's seeing anypony?"
Twilight managed to keep the turmoil at that idea internal. All she said was "Do you really want to see what Celestia's like when she's being a protective older sister?"
"You're just full of excellent points, aren't you?"
"I try." Before they could delve into that topic any more deeply, Twilight spread her wings. "Come on, let's make sure Luna isn't overselling her role."
Weeks Later...
"Ah!" The human Twilight—well, normally human, currently a unicorn, and going by "Sci-Twi" because of that kind of confusion—leapt back, the probe held in her magic nearly smacking against the crystalline ceiling before she reeled it back in.
The local Twilight poked her head into the quaternary library-turned-research lab. "Is everything okay?"
"Circuitry has never squirted at me before!" Sci-Twi pointed an accusing hoof at the trail of green fluid that stretched along several inches of floor past the examination table.
"We're, uh, having some trouble with the reverse engineering," said Sunset Shimmer.
"Well, if there's anything I can do to help—"
Sci-Twi growled at the changeling phone beetle as she prodded it again. "This isn't just magical horse nonsense, this is biopunk magical horse nonsense!" She threw the probe down on the table, stomped, and turned to Twilight. "Darn it, me, I'm an engineer, not a doctor!"
Sunset snickered at that for some reason. Twilight just said, "Sorry. I'll bring in some of the biomancers from Galloping Grove to help you out."
After a deep breath, Sci-Twi nodded and picked up the probe again. "That would be tremendously helpful. Thank me."
"I'm welcome," Twilight said with a giggle.
Sunset rolled her eyes despite her grin. "You two are having way too much fun with that."
"Have you thought about the offer?" said the princess.
"'Equestrian Ambassador to the FSA' does have a nice ring to it, and being able to be honest about my origins would be nice. It's not like I was looking forward to trying to get into college with a back alley birth certificate. I'm just not sure how that world's going to take it."
Sci-Twi didn't even look up from her very scientific poking. "Sunset, even putting aside the people we've shoved through multiple portals, the secret's been out since you spent five minutes on stream apologizing to Fluttershy for calling her a 'featherbrain.'"
Twilight gasped. Sunset winced. "Look, tempers were high, mistakes were made—"
"And a thorough dissertation on tribal politics in Equestria was recorded from Spasm and posted to EweTube. Best to take advantage of this opportunity before Homeland Security decides to take the video seriously."
Sunset rolled her eyes. "Between the two of you, I can't get away with anything, can I?"
"It's for your own good," chorused the Twilights.
Twilight looked around the lake. "This is really everyone who wanted to return to their home?" Fewer than thirty orange-coated ponies, and a few in more brown or yellow hues, stood with her and Photuris.
The queen nodded, the arcing antennae on either side of her smooth, curving horn bobbing with the motion. Her carapace, red at the barrel while shading to yellow at head and hooves, made her look like a reformed changeling version of Sunset Shimmer. "I told you most of them volunteered."
"Up yours, Thunderhoof!" cried someone in the back.
She winced. "You're sure I'll ever be able to show my face in that world again?"
Twilight nodded. "I'm sure once we offer a full explanation of the opportunities for friendship at hoof and hand, they'll be very understanding."
"And the fact that they could make billions."
"As I said, opportunities for friendship."
"I'm still turning down the ambassadorship. I was already the true leader of Galloping Grove. Might as well make it official." Photuris smiled. "And it's already made for a new wave of stickers for Corn and Peg to collect. So, why the big crown thingy?"
Twilight adjusted the Element of Magic. "Credibility. We're going to need to prove that magic exists, and Elements of Harmony maintain theirs even when they travel to other universes. Ready?"
"As I'll ever be."
Photuris fired a flare from her horn. A quartet of drones touched their horns to the lake and the queen stepped through. Twilight watched the emigrants hesitate until Montague took the plunge. The others followed suit, and Twilight herself went through last.
The other side of the lake was much brighter than Twilight expected. The sun hadn't seemed to be at the right angle to cause such glare before she went through, yet now everyone was shading or just averting their eyes.
Or genuflecting before her.
At that point, Twilight realized she was hovering above the lake in a world where she shouldn't have wings. She looked down and beheld a luminous figure with a shining star on her brow, a halo of light about her face, and four wings of burning energy emerging from her back. The being was garbed in a scroll of arcane formulae strategically draped about its comely form.
Twilight gave a sigh that shook the firmament and looked up from her reflection. There was really only one thing to say. "FEAR NOT."
That actually seemed to work for most of them. Photuris, ruddy even given the limited dermal palette available, smirked up at her. "I feel like you forgot to take something into account."
"IF NOTHING ELSE, THIS DEFINITELY ESTABLISHES OUR CREDIBILITY."
Luna nodded as Twilight finished describing the finer points of her misadventures in the other human world. "I have often found that knee-buckling awe is an excellent way to get ponies to forget one's minor legal missteps."
Celestia gave her a sour look, turning back to look out over her personal balcony before Luna noticed. "I am glad to hear it went so well, Twilight. I never expected this from Thunderhoof, but you clearly handled the situation better than I did."
Twilight squirmed in her seat. "I don't know if I'd put it like that."
"I would," said Luna. "Sister clearly does. I have little doubt what Cadence would think on the matter. Even if young Flurry stood by you, that is three princesses to two. You have no choice but to feel proud, Twilight." She chuckled. "Who says democracy does not work?"
Celestia rolled her eyes, but couldn't hold back a smile. "It seems you've taught all of us a valuable lesson over these last few days."
Luna smirked at her. "Sitting back and waiting for your problems to die isn't always the best course of action?"
The faintest hint of strain marred Celestia's placid tones. "I was thinking more along the lines of 'Always be open to alternatives.'"
That got a neutral grunt. "On the subject of lessons and alternatives, are you truly sure you wish to pursue this 'School of Friendship' idea, Twilight? It seems a waste of your considerable talents."
"Well, we are getting quite a few students from Galloping Grove. They'll be there to acclimate themselves to the rest of Equestria as much as learn the curriculum." Twilight laughed. "Besides, what else would I do? Try to fill your hipposandals?"
Both sisters smiled at that, or at least drew back their lips. Celestia cleared her throat. "Heh. Yes. How ridiculous."
