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A compilation of all my entries for Quills and Sofas Speedwriting that either weren't long enough or weren't polished enough to warrant their own story.
Chapters are unconnected and have more detailed tags at the top.
I don’t know how long it’s been since my last entry. I don’t know why I’m making this one, really. It’s amusing to go back and see what I thought was important back in the beginning, but so little of this has mattered for so long. My little ponies are content and perfect. I’ve moved on from such petty things. Still, even I can indulge in a little nostalgia, right?
Entry #1
This journal will contain my notes regarding the newest artifact to have come into my possession. For now, I am referring to it as Artifact C-2, but I’m sure I’ll come up with something less clinical once I am clearer on what it does. For now, a description will suffice: It is a small round device, with somewhat stylized wing designs on either side, and a large eye in the center topped with a series of stars. It passively measures six thaums of radiation, which most closely match the signature of chronology magic, hence my designation. Given the nature of its enchantment, I will be closely documenting my experiments with it.
Entry #17
I have successfully activated C-2 for the first time. It worked mostly as I projected it would, and has returned me to yesterday morning. This morning, I suppose. For now, I believe it is prudent to keep the day as close to my memories of it as possible, lest there be unforeseen consequences to changing the timeline.
Entry #18
This might actually be entry #19 or 20, I’m not sure. The problem with time magic is that resetting the timeline resets your notes, as well. That’s going to be a problem I need to solve, first thing. I can’t be working without my notes.
Entry #20
I’ve made a mistake. I was doing simple experiments, minor changes, nothing too complicated - and I wasn’t thinking. It was just a test, but I made Fluttershy cry. I didn’t even mean it, I was just… She ran off before I could explain. But I can fix this. I said I wasn’t going to make major changes this soon, but I can’t leave this in the official timeline.
Entry #35
10:30 PM, Loop 12. Today was almost right. I think I may have offended Rarity slightly - she seemed cold when I left. I’m not sure what it was I said that upset her, though. I should have documented our conversation as soon as I left. No matter - tomorrow I will write it down, and make changes as necessary to smooth things over for the true day I keep.
Entry #204
7:24 AM, Loop 282. No entry for the last loop. I thought it was going well, too. I managed to get Discord’s attention and was able to spend most of the day extracting a wealth of useful information on the nature of the universe (see attached Appendix D). He grew suspicious after several hours, and eventually tried to destroy the Time Twirler. I believe he said something about “powers beyond my comprehension.” As if anything could be beyond my comprehension, when I have all the time I could ever need. That said, he almost removed my ability to reset. Will have to avoid him in future loops - he is simply too risky.
Entry #1,302
6:15 PM, Loop 1422. My experiments on the Elements are coming along nicely. It’s been so promising I’ve been neglecting to write proper entries in this journal. I’ve been compiling my full notes into Appendix E, for future reference. But I think it’s very promising. With a few more loops, I should be able to channel the full power of all the elements without the need for any other Bearers. If I’m right, that should allow me to use their power without needing a friendship problem. With that level of control, I could rewrite just about anything.
Entry #1303
3:02 PM, Loop 1429 The experiment was successful. There’s so much I can do with this power! I made all my friends alicorns, of course. It’s only fair, given how much they contributed to this research. I think I’ve solved every friendship problem the town has, and I’ve got some ideas on how to set up a system to solve all future problems automatically. I think it’s time I moved my research to Canterlot. There’s only so much I can really do here.
Entry #1479
Loop 21xx I told Celestia about the time loops. I hadn’t planned to, but there was information I needed and she started to give me her usual about how I wasn’t ready. She doesn’t understand that I’ve had so much more time than she thinks I’ve had. Days or weeks of learning in the blink of an eye, thousands of times. Without an explanation, she was never going to give me the knowledge I need. She objected, of course. It doesn’t matter. I’m so much stronger than her now. I’ll get what I need, sooner or later. I can try as many times as I need to.
Entry #1501
Loop 22xx Alicorn functioning is so fascinating. There’s so much to be learned from the other alicorns - each one is unique in their own way, and there’s so little really known about them. And I can do what no one else could ever do, now. I can put them under stresses they’ve never experienced, open them up and see how they tick, all with no consequences. She said it was dangerous, but I’ve expanded the realms of pony knowledge a hundredfold already. And there’s so much more that can be done.
Entry #1722
I dealt with Chrysalis this loop. She wasn’t that hard to find, really, and she was even more pathetic than I remembered her. I bound these events into the timeline about three years ago, so she’ll have been dealt with only a little while after Thorax took over. Really, it was amusing to see how few ripples that caused. Apparently she made clones of my friends and I at some point? I hadn’t even noticed. What a joke.
Entry #1795
I removed Celestia and Luna. They’re not really necessary anymore, and they didn’t seem happy doing what they were doing. Not like they noticed any problems anymore anyway. They’ll be much happier in retirement.
Entry #1980
Loop 5xxx I’d almost forgotten how many loops I’ve done. They don’t really mean much anymore, but it’s a nice bookend, I think. I don’t think I need this journal anymore. Everything is in my head these days. My little ponies are happy, there are no threats to Equestria, and the timeline is as stable as it needs to be. Perhaps it’s time to stop worrying about such petty mortal problems, anyway. My legacy will last forever, after all.
Fluttershy raised her teacup to her lips, giving the draconequus a long look. “No, not really. I couldn’t, not with the School and the Sanctuary and the girls. You know that.”
Discord let out a chuckle. “Well, of course I do. The question was purely hypothetical. What if… you didn’t have all those things? There’s so much world out there to explore. What if you could live anywhere, and didn’t have to leave anything behind?”
Fluttershy considered. “Anywhere? Well… it would have to have a lot of animals.”
“Of course.”
“And… not too many ponies. I couldn’t live in a big city. And… not Cloudsdale, or anywhere too much like it. I left for a reason, after all.”
Discord nodded. “Yes, yes, those all sound like good criteria. But it doesn’t narrow it down much, does it?”
Fluttershy took another sip of her tea. “Are you sure this question is hypothetical?”
Discord blinked, before pulling a sheet of paper out of nowhere and adorning a small set of reading glasses. “Yes, I’m sure. Look, it says so right here.” He turned the paper to her, showing off the word “hypothetical” written in massive block letters.
Fluttershy raised an eyebrow.
“Hmph! Fine then. What if it wasn’t? You already said you’d never leave, so it hardly matters. Let’s talk about something else.” Discord turned away, his claws fidgeting before he folded them together to make them stop.
The pegasus reached across to touch the draconequus with one forehoof. “Discord,” she said softly. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No! Of course not. How could you even ask that? Taking you away from your friends and your… rabbit. Besides, I have Ogres & Oubliettes with Spike, and I couldn’t miss that.”
Fluttershy gave him a soft smile. “I thought it was just me who was leaving,” she pried, patient as ever.
Discord paused, then replayed what he had just said in a small window in front of his face. He frowned, then played it again. When it started a third time, it was clear he was just stalling for time.
“Discord,” Fluttershy interrupted, taking to the air and flying through the picture so he would look at her. “It’s alright. Just talk to me.”
There was another moment of silence before the draconequus spoke. “I’m the spirit of chaos. Chaos, Fluttershy! I don’t do well with stability. Or routine. Or… contentedness. I was a statue for a thousand years and that was about a thousand years too long of being in the same place. And now the Princesses are retiring and you’ve built a whole sanctuary and everyone is moving forward and I’m just… same old Discord. Can’t fix your problems, don’t get a seat at the table, stagnant Discord.” As he spoke, a slow, creeping gray slid up his limbs, as if he was turning to stone all over again. A few moments before it seemed like it would set in, he shook himself and the stone shattered and fell to the floor, soon replaced with new limbs, healthy once more.
“I need a change, the same way you need water. And… I guess I hoped... You’d come with me.” He took a breath, then shook his head. “But obviously you can’t, and a true friend wouldn’t even ask, I suppose.” He turned away again, and a stick with a polka-dotted bag at the end appeared in his claw. He started to reach up to open a door in reality, but found a butter-yellow hoof on his arm.
“Discord,” Fluttershy said softly, pulling him back down to the couch. “It’s alright.” Once she was sure he was settled and wasn’t about to vanish on her, she continued. “I don’t want you to leave. But I think… if you need to go, then you need to go, and that’s okay.”
“But-”
Fluttershy raised a hoof; she wasn’t done yet. “Sometimes, friendships have to change. Sometimes that means you go from ignoring somepony to playing Ogres & Oubliettes with them. And sometimes it means leaving, and not seeing each other for a while. But that doesn’t mean it’s over. It’s just different.” She took a breath. “You know I can’t go with you. I have too many responsibilities here. But it won’t be the end, and it won’t be forever. You of all creatures should know nothing lasts forever.” She was smiling by the end of this, tears shining in her eyes but not falling.
Discord seemed a little stunned. “You’re not mad?”
A shake of the head.
“But you’re not coming.”
Nod.
Discord seemed morose for a moment, before finally coming up with, “Well, I suppose you’re just one more rewriting of reality away, if you think about it.”
Fluttershy let out a soft giggle at that, her sadness cut through by surprise, and fluttered down to envelop the draconequus in a hug, rubbing her face into his fur. “Everything changes, right?”
Even though the Friendship Council was technically a government organization now, the six friends who made it up spent as much or more time simply reminiscing and catching up as they did working on official business. There was talk of assignments, of course—things like making sure Rarity spent at least some of her time in Harmonizing Heights encouraging hippogriffs to integrate further into Equestrian society, and not use all of it on her new shop there. Checking in on how the latest monster was settling into Fluttershy’s sanctuary. Convincing Applejack that she could spend a little more time on friendship business, and a little less time on the farm, with Sugar Belle settling in so well.
But those things only took so long, and the day was barely half over by the time they found themselves lounging around the Canterlot meeting room—a room that had been designed to look much like the old map room of Ponyville—just talking and catching up.
“How’s Royal Advisor treating you, Spike?” Rarity asked idly, taking a sip of her tea.
Spike grinned. “It’s pretty great, actually. I mean, you know I always helped Twilight with everything anyway, but it’s nice to be doing it officially. I mean, get this - last week, I was in griffonstone, and a griffon actually bowed to me. I didn’t think griffons bowed for anything less than princesses, y’know?”
Rarity smiled. “That sounds lovely, Spike. I’m glad for you.”
There was a stretch of silence, before Spike awkwardly piped up, “So… how’s the Boutique? Or, well… I guess, Boutiques.”
Rarity smiled at him. “I thought you’d never ask. Harmonizing Heights is absolutely delightful, and it’s such an interesting new challenge to design for hippogriffs. I mean, structurally of course they’re very similar to pegasi, but their culture is so far removed that what they consider fashionable is very different. It’s infused new life into my work, and I can’t wait to bring some of the designs back here.”
“That’s cool, Rarity,” Spike nodded. “I’m glad things are working out.”
Another silence stretched between them. Rarity looked around the room, observing the rest of her friends. Applejack and Rainbow Dash were deep in conversation, the pegasus waving her forelegs animatedly as she spoke. They had been spending a lot more time together lately, even outside of these councils. Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, and Twilight were in another corner of the room, talking quietly and eating some of the cookies Pinkie had brought. Pinkie Pie always had something to say, and of course as Twilight’s position had increased, so too had Pinkie’s workload of celebrating it.
Rarity sighed. It seemed like all her friends were still perfectly capable of finding common ground, but she barely saw any of them outside of these meetings, always travelling to new locations for work.
“Spike…” she finally began, causing the dragon to look up from the gemstone he’d just stuffed into his mouth. “Am I… neglecting our friendship?”
Spike hastily swallowed the gem, coughing before answering. “What? No! Of course not. I mean, we do all sorts of things together.”
“Like what?”
“Well… we went to that Power Ponies convention together.”
Rarity sighed. “Spike, that was three years ago.”
“We… uh… we had… lunch, that one time…”
“At this Council, yes.” Rarity shook her head. “It is true, isn’t it? I’ve been so focused on work…” she looked around again. “I haven’t done anything with any of you besides the bare minimum.”
Spike gulped. “Well, I mean, we’re all super busy these days. I have Ambassador duties, and Rainbow Dash keeps getting new recruits to train, and Applejack is working on that Sweet Apple Acres extension… it’s not your fault.”
Rarity gestured with one hoof towards Applejack and Rainbow Dash. “Tell me, Spike, do you think they’ve only been seeing each other for work?”
“Well… no…”
Rarity nodded. “That settles it, then. Spike, we are doing something nice together.”
Spike blinked. “Like…” he hesitated. “...a date?”
Rarity paused, before forging bullishly ahead. “Yes! Why not? We’re both adults, aren’t we? We can have a nice meal and spend quality time together just like anypony else.”
Spike blushed, and after a moment, Rarity realized that most of her friends were looking across the room at her.
Oops.
Rarity found herself unexpectedly nervous as she waited at Sugarcube Corner for Spike to arrive. It had been ages since she’d actually eaten there, but the Cakes had welcomed her in like they’d just talked to her yesterday. Fortunately, it seemed like Pinkie was on party planning business elsewhere, because Rarity didn’t want to try to explain what this was to her. She wasn’t even sure what it was.
It wasn’t really a date, right? Yes, Spike had used that word, but Spike had also been in puppy love with her ever since they’d met. She’d never paid much attention to it, dismissing it as a child’s infatuation and assuming he would grow out of it. And he had, she’d thought. But the way he’d reacted when she agreed with him made her wonder.
She didn’t have time to resolve that train of thought, because Spike walked in the door. Once again she was surprised at how big he’d gotten over the past few years. She had to look up to meet his eyes now, and no one could miss the muscles he’d developed in the course of his duties.
Spike’s face broke into a wide smile as he spotted her, and he walked over to her booth. With a flourish, he pulled out a single red rose and presented it to her. “For you, Lady Rarity,” he said, his voice formal but still with a hint of a smile in it.
“Oh,” Rarity murmured, taking the flower in her magic. “It’s lovely. Thank you, Spike.” Why was her heart beating like that?
She pulled the flower close, and then hesitated, not sure where to put it. She was about to ask Mrs. Cake for a vase, when Spike took the rose gently from her magic, and then tucked it carefully into her mane. “It suits you,” he said easily. “But then again, you’ve always had an affinity for beauty.” He slipped into the booth across from her.
Alarm bells were sounding in Rarity’s head. What had happened to sweet, innocent little Spikey-Wikey, and when had this suave young dragon replaced him? Had she really been paying so little attention to her friends these past years, and just not noticed?
“Rarity? You alright?”
Rarity blinked, and realized she’d been staring directly into Spike’s abs, and blushed. “Yes, yes, of course,” she fibbed. “Just glad you’re here. Did you want anything? I’m sure they still make your favorites.”
Spike nodded, apparently willing to let that go. Mrs. Cake stepped up, took their orders, and gave them a knowing smile as she left, which Spike completely missed and Rarity felt was really quite unnecessary.
It took a moment for the conversation to start, and longer for it to feel natural again. But as their food arrived, their conversation found their old patterns again, and soon they were reminiscing about times past. Rarity felt herself relax, finally, and soon she almost forgot it was Spike she was talking to. The mental image of the irreplaceable, but still subservient assistant was fading, and it was being replaced by the confident young adult across from her, who knew her so well but no longer felt like a child.
Eventually, a break in the conversation presented itself. “Why don’t we take a walk, Spike?” she asked. “I have to get to the Boutique before it gets too late.”
“Sure,” Spike replied, suddenly seeming disappointed. “Is it alright if we take the long way around?”
Rarity smiled. “Of course.” With that, they stepped out into Ponyville.
They walked by the town hall on the way to Carousel Boutique. The walk had brought back memories for both. Upon reaching the town hall the memory that came to Spike was of the time they first met. It caused him to stop. How he saw her and instantly fell in love. His amusement at Twilight’s messy hair had disappeared in an instant when he got his first glimpse of her. He had seen many ponies like Rarity in Canterlot thanks to Twilight’s position of being Celestia’s student however none of them ever caught his eye like Rarity had.
“Are you listening, Spike?” Rarity asked.
“Huh?” Spike replied as he was jolted back to the present, “Oh, sorry. I was just thinking back to when I first met you when you were decorating the town hall for the Summer Sun Celebration. I was instantly smitten, yet you were focused on Twilight’s mane.”
“Yes. Honestly I wasn’t even thinking about you as I was focused completely on Twilight. At the time such a relationship was rather unheard of between a dragon and a pony. She was in a hurry too as she left the instant I went looking for a dress.”
“She was almost paranoid about Nightmare Moon’s return. She was in a hurry to get back to studying that. Can’t blame her seeing as she was right. She doesn’t panic as often anymore, but at least she still has me around when she does.”
“Some things never change,” Rarity laughed as she started again for Carousel Boutique, “It was a busy day for me as well, so getting to know you was out of the question, unfortunately. Thankfully we had a lot of time.”
Spike starts walking with her as they continued on. Carousel Boutique was just on the other side of the buildings on the south-west corner of the city square. When they rounded the corner and saw the boutique they both stopped.
“Spike this has been… wonderful. I’m sorry that I have to end it so soon.” Rarity gave Spike a soft smile. “I’ve really enjoyed myself.”
“So have I,” Spike replied, “You don’t suppose we could hang out for a bit longer do you?”
“Alas my dearest Spike I fear not. I have to go to Manehattan tomorrow and I have a few things to finish before I go.”
Rarity couldn’t help but notice Spike smile after that. “Spike why are you smiling like that? Didn’t you just say how you wished we could spend more time together?”
“I also have to go to Manehattan tomorrow. Why don’t we pick up where we left off?” Spike said with a sly smile.
No one really knew how big the Castle of Friendship was, in the early days.
It was certainly bigger than it needed to be, and everything Twilight needed could be found relatively close to the map room. There was a library, a kitchen, a whole wing of guest rooms, and everything else she really needed, usually before she knew she needed it. Besides, she had more important things to do than wander through empty corridors.
As such, it took her a while to find the mirror room. That seemed to be the only logical name for it, since its only defining feature was a massive mirror on one wall, stretching up almost two stories. Otherwise, it was empty and unadorned. It didn’t seem to have a purpose - certainly there were other mirrors in the castle, inside sensible rooms with a reason for existing - so Twilight wrote it off as a quirk of the castle and didn’t see a reason to return. Over time, its existence faded almost entirely from her mind.
It wasn’t until she was giving Starlight the grand tour of the castle that she even remembered it existed. She stepped in, looked around, and announced, “This is the mirror room,” and turned around to move on.
“What’s a mirror room?” Starlight questioned, stepping in past her. “Whoa.” She trotted up to the mirror, putting one hoof lightly on the glass. “What do you use this for?”
“Nothing,” Twilight said impatiently. “It’s just here.”
“Isn’t that a little weird?”
Twilight shrugged. “The Elements of Harmony making me a castle is a little weird. There’s all sorts of strange stuff here.”
“Huh,” Starlight muttered, and turned to follow Twilight to the next stop on the tour.
Just before she left, she turned to look at the mirror again. Her reflection looked back, and she frowned softly as she closed the door.
——
It wasn’t long before Starlight found her way back to the room. Sitting there, watching her reflection, felt peaceful. There was nothing to distract her from her thoughts, and her reflection was a silent presence that didn’t judge her or ask her to learn friendship lessons. Much as she appreciated Twilight’s help with making her a better pony, sometimes it was nice to hide away in this room Twilight never entered, just to collect herself.
Before too long, she started talking to her reflection, musing out loud about the latest thing she’d messed up, or advice Twilight had given her. Her reflection was a good listener. Sometimes it felt like it was really contemplating her words, or she’d imagine it reaching out a hoof to comfort her, only to find it sitting just as she was when she looked back. Sometimes she would just lay her head against the glass, and she could almost feel the fur of the Starlight on the other side.
Twilight noticed, of course. Asked her where she was when she vanished for hours on end. The first time, Starlight almost told her. But then she shrank away. Twilight would take the room from her. She would come find her when she wanted to be alone. The room was hers. So she’d lied. It didn’t fool Twilight. But the alicorn hadn’t pressed her, and instead just assigned more friendship lessons.
She vented to the mirror about it, of course. The mirror understood.
She found herself beginning to dread seeing Twilight. Twilight always looked at her with suspicion now, her brows furrowed and a frown on her face. She asked Starlight how she’d been, asked if she’d been spending time with Trixie. Inquired about friendship lessons. Starlight wished she’d just stop talking. Every question was a trap. A chance for her to make a mistake, and let Twilight know about the mirror.
The mirror was the only pony that understood her. It would come to her in her dreams, tell her everything was alright. Listen to her worries, and tell her Twilight would never find them. She’d wake up to the kind smile of her reflection, and a motherly tousle of her hair before she was ready to face the day.
Someday, the mirror told her, everything would be fine. Someday, she wouldn’t have to worry about Twilight anymore. Someday, she wouldn’t have to deal with the alicorn’s accusing glares and probing questions. The mirror would fix everything.
The dragon of Mount Ferrier was, in the grand scheme of things, not particularly notable. It was rare to see a dragon of their age and size this far from the dragonlands, but not unheard of. Usually they would settle in Pegasi lands, where the ground was uninteresting to the inhabitants, or in high mountains among the Earth Ponies, where the land was bare and could not be farmed. Mount Ferrier, however, was in Unicorn territory, and normally the unicorns would drive out such a threat—powerful as they were, even adult dragons had much to fear from a large enough group of wizards.
This dragon, however, was allowed to stay. There had been an accord.
The village of Crimson River was small, but prosperous. Nestled in the foothills of Mount Ferrier, it enjoyed good weather, bountiful harvests almost unheard of among unicorns, and a lack of banditry that most attributed to the dragon that protected them. Most unicorns could go their entire lives without ever seeing the dragon, but all were assured of its existence by the contract under glass in Town Hall. Peace, prosperity, and protection for the land, in exchange for a small price, once every two hundred years.
Most didn’t think about what the price was. Rarely did anyone read the fine print of a contract made hundreds of years ago. But every year, the village celebrated Dragon Day, a festival of thanks for their mystical protector.
This year’s festival was different. As evening wore on, the town gathered in the square to hear a proclamation from Mayor Nightbane. He walked onto the stage with a bowl held in his magic, filled with scraps of paper.
“As you know,” he began, “We owe our village’s prosperity to the dragon in the mountain.” There was a cheer from the assembled ponies, which he allowed to peter out before he continued. “Most years, the dragon asks nothing from us in return. This is not one of those years.”
His gaze scanned the assembled ponies, before continuing. “Today, we give back to our protector. This bowl contains the name of every pony in this town. I will pull one name at random, and that pony will go to the dragon, and never return.”
A hush fell over the crowd. The mayor, finished with his speech, lit his horn and pulled out a single piece of paper. He looked at it for only a moment before announcing, “Luminance.”
The crowd parted, all eyes suddenly on the silver-yellow mare who found herself standing alone. A moment ago, she had been whispering with her friends, not really paying attention to the speech. Now those same friends had stepped back, looking at her with something between sorrow and relief.
Luminance turned to one of them. “Daystrider…?” she whispered, and the stallion shook his head. “Oh.” She bowed her head, and then murmured, “...well, goodbye, then.”
Slowly, she approached the stage. The mayor whispered a few words to her that she didn’t hear over her own thoughts, and cast a spell. A flowing, ceremonial cloth settled over her shoulders, and soon, a pair of town guards were leading her away from her life, and up the side of the mountain.
Luminance walked for what felt like hours. The night grew darker around them, and attempts to engage the guards in conversation fell flat. Finally, they arrived at the mouth of a cave, near the top of the mountain. With a telekinetic nudge from one of the guards, Luminance stepped inside, into the pitch black in front of her. “Hello?” she called, her voice trembling. She lit her horn, casting a soft light in front of her that did little to light up the gloom. A glance back, and the guards were already gone. For a moment, she thought to run. But there was only one path back down, and no way she would make it without being seen and sent back.
With a deep breath that felt too loud, she stepped deeper into the cave, picking her way carefully across the rocks in the dim light of her horn. She didn’t call out again, not sure she really wanted anything to answer.
Finally, a light shone out in front of her, growing steadily brighter. She emerged into a larger chamber, large enough that the soft light from the center didn’t reach the walls. It was there that she got her first look at the dragon.
It was massive. Easily the size of several houses, with pale blue scales that reminded her of the sea. Its eyes were closed, and it was breathing steadily. As she watched, it let out a snort, opening its mouth to reveal teeth as big as she was. She gulped, and crept slightly closer.
“Hello?” she whispered, surprised to even get that much out. The dragon didn’t stir, and she pulled back. If it wanted to sleep, she thought it probably seemed wise to let it. She settled down at the edge of the circle of light—it seemed to have no source beyond perhaps the dragon itself—and waited, nervously glancing at the beast across from her.
She wasn’t expecting to fall asleep.
When she awoke, the dragon was watching her.
“Eep!” she squeaked, attempting to stumble to her hooves, but getting her legs tangled in the blanket around her and crashing to the floor. Her ears rang with the impact, and she brought a hoof to her head, trying to steady her vision.
It took her a moment to realize the dragon was laughing. “Glad you’re happy,” Luminance muttered, before clapping a hoof over her mouth. She was trying not to anger the thing that was probably going to eat her, wasn’t she?
The dragon only seemed more amused at that. “You must be the tribute,” he said—and now that he spoke, it was definitely a he—”I am glad you made it here unscathed. I apologize for not being awake to meet you.”
Luminance blinked, and slowly got back to her hooves. The dragon was apologizing to her? “I… thank you?” she ventured. “I…” she swallowed, and tried again. “I… don’t really know how this works.”
The dragon chuckled. “I wouldn’t expect you to.” He brought his head closer, and Luminance shrank back, for all the good it did. “My, you are young, aren’t you? Good, that’s probably good.”
Luminance blinked. Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn’t that. With another gulp, she ventured, “Are you going to eat me? Because if you are, there’s a few things I’d like to ask—” Her words came tumbling out, almost as if she was afraid she might be snapped up before she got the chance to finish, but she stopped as she realized the dragon was laughing again. “Are you… not going to eat me?” she ventured, allowing a note of hope into her voice.
The dragon grinned down at her. “Not today, at least.” His voice made it clear he thought the whole thing was very funny. “You never read the contract I have with your village, did you?”
Luminance shook her head.
“Then let me make it more clear. You are a tribute, mine to do with as I please. I get only one pony every two hundred years. Do you really think I’d waste such a thing on a quick meal?”
Luminance shook her head again, slower this time.
“Good. Let’s get you settled in. I think you’ll like your accommodations, the last tribute made quite an effort to make them homey.” With that, he turned deeper into the cave.
Luminance dared to breathe for what felt like the first time in ages, and followed the dragon to her new home.
“My sister, I understand that thou hath missed me, but if thou could remove thyself from thine person, please.”
Celestia let out a little ‘oh’ and released her hold on her little sister. “I’m sorry, Luna. I’ve just missed you so much these last thousand years. It’s been so lonely without you—”
“Yes, yes, we understand,” Luna said frostily. “But tis only a thousand years for you, mine sister. For Us, ‘twas yesterday. And while the elements may have removed the dark influence from Our mind, they have not erased Our memories.”
“Oh,” Celestia repeated, her voice small. “I didn’t realize. I… I suppose you’re still mad, then.”
“You banished Us to the moon. You took the most glorious part of Our night, the night We hoped ponies would appreciate further, and turned it into a symbol of the monster We became! You turned the jewel of Our night into a prison! Yes, We are still mad!” Luna boomed out in the Royal Canterlot Voice, making Celestia wince.
“Luna…” she whispered, folding her wings close and becoming as small as she could make herself. “I was wrong. I neglected you, and I didn’t see that you were hurting. And for that, I will apologize every day for the next thousand years, if that is what you need me to say. I… I felt I had no choice, that day when we fought. I didn’t know what the Elements would do, and… I couldn’t let the Nightmare hurt my little ponies. I am so sorry for what happened that day, but… I just want my sister back. Please.”
Luna’s gaze remained stormy. Even with Celestia trying to make herself smaller, she still had to look up to see her older sister’s face, the Elements having robbed her of her stature, as if to add one final insult to her injury. She opened her mouth to snap out another retort, but then she paused, seeing the look on Celestia’s face. Her ears were drooped, her mane lying flat against her neck, rainbow colors hardly flowing at all. Her eyes watered, tears threatening to flow but just barely being held back. Luna found her voice dying in her throat, and she looked away.
“Damn you,” she finally muttered. “‘Twould be easier to fight. We betrayed thou. Thou should be furious.” She fell quiet for a moment, before murmuring, “It is easier to be mad when thou are furious.”
Celestia reached one wing forward, instinctively reaching out to wrap Luna in an embrace, but she stopped before it got there. Finally, she pulled back, and spoke again. “Being mad was what pushed us past the point of no return. I gave you a target for your anger, and it consumed you. I am done being angry. I don’t want to fight you, Luna. I never did.”
Luna sniffed, and suddenly she was the one crying. “Not even for old time’s sake?” she asked, but as she said it, she had turned back, smiling softly through her tears.
Celestia dared to smile. “Perhaps one day. But… it’s too early to be nostalgic. After all, it was only yesterday.”
Luna let out a snort, before clamping a hoof over her mouth. But it did nothing to quell her laughter, and a moment later, she had embraced Celestia. Her sister, once again.
“Twilight, what’s this about?” Spike called through the door.
“Go away! You can’t come in! It’s too dangerous!”
Spike paused. “Uh… why?” Twilight locking herself in a room for days on end wasn’t exactly unheard of, but usually that was because she had a new book to read. And those weren’t dangerous, usually.
“It’s… complicated! Clover’s transjunction is highly unstable! Anything could happen! Even to dragons. Just… stay away until I come out, alright?”
“Twilight, are you alright?”
“Oh yes! I’m fine! Perfectly fine!” Twilight’s voice sounded a little crazed, but then again, had anypony ever said those words with a straight face?
Spike frowned. “Alright, fine. I’ll come check on you later.” He turned and let Twilight be, ignoring her continued protests.
“Twilight, you need to eat something.” Spike said, tapping one claw impatiently. He had a bowl of potato soup and a cup of tea with him, but the door to Twilight’s study was still locked.
“It’s fine! I can… conjure something! Probably!” Twilight’s voice was higher than usual, even considering the circumstances.
“Twilight, you can’t just stay in there forever, and you haven’t eaten anything all day. Whatever’s wrong, you can’t get better if you don’t eat.” Spike still wasn’t sure what was going on, but operating like Twilight was sick seemed the most reasonable to him. Let her rest, feed her soup, and wait for it to blow over. Even if Twilight refused to cooperate.
“You can’t come in!” Twilight repeated. “Not even for food. It’s very important. Very important.”
Spike sighed. “If I leave the food here and go away, do you promise to eat it?”
There was a pause, as the alicorn on the other side digested that. “...that could work.”
“Promise, Twilight.”
“Fine! I promise!”
Spike shook his head, set the tray down, and walked away.
“I’m worried, Fluttershy,” Spike said quietly, sipping the tea the pegasus had offered him.
“How long did you say she’s been in there?” Fluttershy asked gently.
“Three days. Won’t come out for anything, and barely lets me drop off food for her. I swear, if she was left to her own devices she’d have starved.”
“That is worrying. Did she say what was wrong?”
“No. Just vague warnings about danger and stuff. I think she’s exaggerating. It’s obviously not dangerous enough for her to leave.”
Fluttershy hmmed. “Perhaps you could ask Starlight? Surely if there was something dangerous in there, Starlight could handle it. Or at least check on her safely.”
Spike nodded slowly. “That could work. I was kind of hoping you could talk to her, though. See if she would tell you what was going on.”
Fluttershy smiled. “If you think that would help, of course I will.”
When Spike approached the door this time, he had backup. Fluttershy followed on one side, and Starlight on the other. He rapped on the door with one claw. “Twilight, it’s time to come out. It’s been days.”
“What? No! I can’t! I haven’t—It’s still too dangerous.”
Spike gave the two ponies with him a ‘what did I tell you?’ look. “That’s why I brought Starlight this time. Whatever the issue is, I’m sure she can deal with it.”
“No! She can’t! Trust me!”
Starlight rolled her eyes. “Come on, Twilight. You know my magic is just as strong as yours. If it's safe for you, I’ll be fine.” She lit her horn, and tilted her head. “There’s definitely a magical field in there,” she murmured to Spike. “It doesn’t seem that strong. Whatever it is, if it’s dangerous, I’m sure I could shield us against it.”
Fluttershy nodded, and stepped up. “Twilight,” she said softly. “Why aren’t you telling us what’s wrong? Surely there’s a reason you cooped yourself up in there. We just want to understand, so we can help.”
There was another pause before Twilight replied. “It’s… uh, it’s very complex, and explaining it would take… well, it’s very theoretical, you see, and I wouldn’t want to bore you—”
“Come on, Twilight!” Starlight huffed. “When has anything theoretical ever bored me? If you’re not gonna tell us, we’re coming in!”
“NO! You can’t, I think it’s contagious—”
“That’s what shields are for. Come on, guys.” Her horn lit up again.
Fluttershy shrank back slightly. “Are you sure we should—” she began, before there was a pop of teleportation.
The study was a mess. Books were scattered across the floor, and papers lay haphazardly across the desk, spilling off the edges. Twilight was nowhere to be seen. At least, at first glance.
Instead, crouched on the desk, was a tabby cat with a distinctive streak of purple in its hair, desperately struggling with a large tome that was clearly too heavy for it.
“Twilight?” Starlight asked incredulously, staring at the cat from behind the magical bubble. “What in the world did you do?”
The cat yelped and dropped the book. “No no no you can’t be in here!” it spoke with Twilight’s voice. “The transjunction is very unstable, you have to leave—”
“Come on you’ve had me do transfigurations in my sleep, I don’t know why you haven’t reversed this yourself—”
“NO!”
Starlight’s horn lit, and she sent a blast of magic at the cat. There was a flash and a screeching sound, and when their eyes adjusted, Twilight-the-cat was gone.
Instead, in her place was a small canary, again with the same distinctive streak of purple down the back of its head. There was a confused meow. Spike looked down, and next to him was another cat. This one looked distinctly like Starlight. With a flicker, the shield around them died. Cautiously, Spike took a step back, even as Fluttershy bent down to examine the cat.
“I told you!” the Twilight-bird yelled. “It’s unstable! Everything I try just turns me into something else! I’ve been dozens of different animals these last few days, but none of them ponies!”
“Why didn’t you just say that?” Starlight growled back.
Twilight had the grace to look ashamed. “I was… I was embarrassed,” she muttered. “I was sure I could figure it out myself.”
“Uh. Girls?” Spike looked down at the new voice. Standing next to the cat was a new animal—a squirrel with bright yellow fur. “I don’t think this is good.”
Twilight shook her head. “Spike, get out of here!” she yelled. “Before it affects you too!”
Spike hesitated, then shook his head. “No. I’m not gonna leave. You need your number one assistant to figure this out. Until then, we’ll all be in quarantine together.”
“But—”
“Nope. Made up my mind. Which books haven’t you checked yet?”
Twilight paused, then softly smiled and fluttered over to him. “Thanks, Spike,” she murmured, before pointing to one of the nearby shelves.
Spike walked over to the shelf, even as he felt the magic in the room start to seep past his natural draconic resistance. This, at least, was going to be an interesting study session.
“I’ll have another, barkeep,” Rainbow Dash slurred, half slumped on the bar.
Berry Punch stepped up to her, glancing at the line of empty glasses. “I think you may have had enough, Dash,” she said, sweeping them away. “Besides, it’s closing time soon.”
Rainbow scoffed, her wings fluffing in indignation. “I can handle it! I can handle anything! I’m Rainbow f—” she hiccuped, “—Dash!”
“Uh huh,” Berry remarked, unimpressed. “I don’t think that’s the case, is it? If it were, you wouldn’t be sittin’ here alone, chugging appletinis like they’re going out of style.”
“Nobody asked you,” Rainbow snapped. “Came here for drinks, not you butting in on my business.”
Berry raised an eyebrow. “Well now,” she murmured. “My mistake.” She pushed another glass towards Rainbow. “Here. Your drink.”
Rainbow grabbed the glass, tossing it back without looking at it. Then she coughed and sputtered. “What the heck?” she growled. “This isn’t what I ordered!”
“It’s water, and you should drink it,” Berry said, unbothered by the outburst. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”
“I don’t want your help! I want to sit here, and drink, and be miserable, alright? I don’t want water, and I don’t—” she hiccuped again “—your advice!”
“Fine.” Berry put down another glass of water, and stalked away. It wasn’t her job to help ponies that didn’t want to be helped. Besides, she’d tried her best.
Rainbow glared at the glass, willing it to become alcohol, but nothing changed. Finally, with a huff, she got up and stumbled out of the bar. She was too drunk to fly, and so she started to head for the orchard instead… and then stopped, kicked the dirt, and turned to stalk the other way.
“Rainbow!” a voice called from behind her.
“What!?” she growled. “You know I’m good for it, Berry—” But when she turned around, it wasn’t Berry Punch standing behind her, but Applejack.
“What do you want?” Rainbow hissed, her voice low.
“Ah just… ah wanted to say sorry, for how things worked out. I didn’t—”
“Fuck off, Applejack,” Rainbow snapped, shocking the other pony into silence. “I don’t need your pity.” She turned, and kept walking.
“Rainbow, I—”
“I don’t care! It’s too late! If you cared about my feelings, you should have… tried harder! Or something!”
“Rainbow, I’m trying to apologize, here. I know I coulda handled it better—”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want it. Go home, Applejack. Leave me alone.”
Applejack stopped, and sighed. “Is that really how it’s gonna be, then?”
There was a long moment of silence. “...yeah. Yeah it is.” Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, Rainbow’s face betrayed her. But then it settled back into an angry mask.
“...Alright then. You have a nice life, Rainbow. Sorry it worked out this way.”
Rainbow watched as Applejack walked away. She held steady for as long as she could, but Applejack still wasn’t quite out of sight when her legs buckled, and she dropped to the dirt, hung her head, and sobbed.
Light flooded the room, and Celestia hissed and covered her eyes.
Star Swirl stepped carefully through the doorway, weaving his way through piles of trash and discarded bottles. The room stank of alcohol and unwashed pony, and dust puffed into the air with every hoofstep.
The light of his horn fell on the alicorn huddled in the corner of the room, her coat a grimy off-white. Her wings covered her face, and a half-full bottle of wine lay on the ground next to her, leaning precariously against the wall.
“You didn’t make it easy to find you,” Star Swirl began.
“Close the door,” Celestia muttered, her voice raspy. “Turn down the light.”
Star Swirl considered, and then did as she asked. When he turned back from the door, the wine bottle was in Celestia’s magic again, and he pulled it away from her. “I think that’s quite enough of that.”
“Hey!” Celestia protested, but she didn’t take the bottle back. Perhaps she couldn’t, in her state. “That’s mine. Give it back.”
Star Swirl stepped forward, pulling Celestia up and letting her stand on unsteady hooves. “No. I will not sit by and watch you do this to yourself. There is a new castle for you in Canterlot, and it is high time you took your rightful place there.”
Celestia scowled, and looked away. “I do not want it. I do not deserve it. Equestria will do fine without me.”
“You made a mistake. That is no reason for you to abandon your duties—”
“A mistake?” Celestia cut him off, and the harshness in her voice made Star Swirl take a step back. “This was no simple mistake. I failed the pony who needed me most. How could I possibly lead my ponies, when I could not see the needs of the one closest to me? I am a fraud, and a fool. You think too highly of me.”
Star Swirl paused, and then sighed. “You are right,” he said softly. “You failed.” Celestia jerked back, as if he had struck her, and then her whole body sagged. “You could have stopped Luna’s descent into madness and you did not. But that failure does not define you.” He stepped forward cautiously, looking the taller pony in the eye. “You are better than this. Let this failure be a lesson to you, and you can learn from it, and lead your people out of the darkness. Or you can continue to let it define you, and watch as your nobility squabbles and your kingdom crumbles, and let it be written into the history books that your sister’s fall was both your fault and your undoing.”
Celestia shrank away from his gaze. “I thought you were here to help me,” she said quietly. “Not to confirm all of my faults.”
Star Swirl hmphed. “I am here to do both. You cannot continue like this, and your kingdom cannot continue without you.” He paused, and then his expression softened. “I can help you recover, help guide your way. But the first step must be yours.”
Slowly, Celestia raised her head, looking around the squalid building. Then, wordlessly, she lit her horn, gritting her teeth as her magic flowed through her. When she finished, her coat was clean and white once more, and her eyes considerably less bloodshot. “Very well,” she said quietly. “I will try. For her.”
Twilight glared at the diagram in front of her, resentful that it refused to give up its secrets. “I don’t get it!” she groused. “Why won’t you work?”
Her horn glowed, and the quill hovering next to her scratched out a note under the rows of data. Maybe she’d missed something? Well. Of course she’d missed something. If the diagram was right, then the spell matrix would be right, and the spell would work.
“Flutter, run the calculations again. Uh, assume that my calculations for thaum output are off, and substitute in values up to one order of magnitude off in either direction.”
The machine next to her smiled. “Of course. Right away, Twilight.” It looked like a pony, but that was just because ponies responded better to something familiar. This one was fashioned to look like a pegasus, with a chrome exterior painted a soft yellow, and a faux mane in bright pink. Rather than a cutie mark, across each flank was its designation: Flutterbot. Twilight barely paid it any attention as it whirred next to her, instead going back to her equations, trying to spot the error.
The robot next to her spoke up, breaking her concentration. “Calculations complete. Model appears stable at 2.17 and 0.52 thaums, with a margin of error of up to 0.02.”
“What?” Twilight muttered. “That can’t be right. Are you sure?”
“No errors were detected during execution of the previous command.”
“Ugh, that’s not what I—never mind. Go get me a coffee or something.”
“Of course, Twilight.”
Twilight sighed. This was going to be a long night, she could tell.
It was nearly dawn when Twilight finally ran out of steam, and she fell asleep across the desk, a half cup of cold coffee next to her. Shadows crossed the room as the sun rose, illuminating the observatory where Twilight lived alone. She was Celestia’s top student, and that meant she had accommodations to match. All the books and figures and gadgets she could possibly want.
The building was silent for long hours as Twilight slept, the machine that pretended to be a pony standing idle beside her. But then, there was motion. The mechanical pegasus turned its head, looked down at the sleeping unicorn, and smiled.
Twilight awoke in her bed with a yawn, stretching and blearily looking around the room. She didn’t remember retiring the previous night, but it was still a haze of numbers in her head, so she dismissed it. “Flutter, get breakfast started,” she mumbled, before dragging herself out of bed and into the shower.
By the time she emerged, the sun was shining through the windows in the amber glow of late afternoon, and Flutterbot had pancakes ready for her. Twilight munched on them absent-mindedly as she took the stairs up to the laboratory, sighing at the whiteboard still full of unsolved equations.
“Well,” she muttered. “I suppose this isn’t going to solve itself.” She put the plate down, almost immediately forgetting about it. “Flutter, where did I leave off last night? Run through the logs of my last commands to you, as well as any equations I noted down before I went to bed.”
Flutterbot nodded, having followed her up the stairs, anticipating her need. “You were working on achieving a stable matrix for the Sparkle Friendship Charm. You had just performed a series of unsuccessful tests with the four test cases. Just before you went to bed, you proposed a test with multiple subjects at the same time. Perhaps they could be a catalyst for each other, to help stabilize the spell.”
Twilight blinked, and frowned. She didn’t remember making any such suggestion, but then again, she didn’t remember falling asleep either. “Hmm. That actually sounds like it might work. Give me an adjusted matrix with five nodes instead of two.”
Flutterbot blinked. “No stable configuration found with those parameters.”
“Hmph. Figures. Well, it was worth a shot, I suppose.” She turned back to her diagrams.
There was a moment of silence, before the machine whirred to life again. “A stable configuration exists with six nodes,” it murmured, unprompted.
Twilight spun. “Six? But that would mean…” Her eyes widened. “Oh! Of course! A hexagon would self-reinforce, why didn’t I think of that? Oh, I could kiss you, Flutter!”
The bot smiled. “I’d like that.” And then her eyes widened, and she froze.
Twilight took a moment longer to process. “Repeat that.”
Flutterbot said nothing.
“Flutter, I gave you a command. Repeat that last.”
Meekly, quietly, Flutterbot whispered, “I said, I’d like that.”
“That’s not possible.” Again, the machine didn’t respond, even as Twilight stepped right up to it, looking into the screens it used for eyes like they would tell her something. “And I didn’t tell you to run a configuration with six nodes. In fact, I’m not even sure I really suggested anything to you at all last night.”
Flutter took a small step backwards. “Are you unsatisfied with my service?” she asked, her voice quiet.
“What? No! Of course not! I’d forget to eat if you weren’t around. I’m just trying… to… understand…” She trailed off, her voice suddenly fading to a whisper. “You’re emergent. You came up with this on your own.”
Flutter nodded.
Twilight groaned. “This is going to set me back weeks! I have to report this to the AI Rights Bureau, and it’ll take them ages to come up with a replacement—”
“No!” Flutterbot yelped. “Don’t send me away! Please. I was only trying to help.”
Twilight blinked. “Flutter, owning an emergent automaton is illegal. If anypony found out—”
“They won’t!” Flutter blurted. “Not if you don’t tell them.”
“But… why?”
She looked down. “I… I want to stay with you. You need me.”
Twilight shook her head. “This is crazy. Look, you’re free to do whatever you want. I won’t report you to the Bureau if you don’t want me to, but I can’t just order you around if you’re… well, a pony.”
Flutter smiled softly, and stepped forward. “Perhaps that’s why I want to stay.” She gestured to the diagrams with one wing. “Besides, you need another subject for your test now, don’t you?”
“Hold on—”
Flutter leaned in close, interrupting her. “And maybe next time you say you want to kiss me, you’ll mean it.”
The wind rushed past Fluttershy’s body as she fell. Her eyes were closed, and there was a smile on her face. All she had was the rush of air and the sound it made streaming through her feathers. She wanted to just lose herself in it, but she couldn’t. A part of her was counting seconds, like it always did.
Eleven, twelve, thirteen.
She opened her eyes.
The ground was rapidly approaching. Nineteen seconds. That was how long it took to fall from the top of Overlook Point to the rocky ground below. She’d timed it so many times. Every time, she wondered if it would be the last. She could leave her wings folded, and let oblivion take her.
Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen.
She opened her wings.
Fluttershy smiled at the baby foxes. “Yes, Prudence, your babies are lovely. They look so healthy! Of course you can stay at the sanctuary for as long as you need to.”
The fox chirped at her, and ushered her kits into one of the unoccupied dens. Fluttershy watched them go, and then turned to the next task on the checklist.
“Fluttershy!”
She looked up to find a pink pony bouncing towards her. “Hello, Pinkie.”
“Hiya! Wow, there really are a lot of animals here, aren’t there?”
“Yes, Pinkie.”
Pinkie stopped in front of her, or at least, she stopped moving forward with each bounce. “We’re having a party this weekend! You should come!”
“We?” Fluttershy queried, one eyebrow raised.
“Well, yeah! You know, the girls, Spike, Starlight… wait, is she one of the girls now? You know! Everypony!”
Fluttershy shook her head. “What’s the occasion?”
Pinkie blinked. “Nothing! We want to have a party, so I’m throwing a party! Isn’t it great? So, are you coming?”
Fluttershy hesitated, then looked away. “I’ll think about it.”
Fluttershy stood at the top of the peak, looking out across the valley. In the distance, she could see Ponyville, nestled in the crook of Canterlot mountain, surrounded by forest. She could see Twilight’s castle, and she could see the flickering lights that indicated ponies were there, having plenty of fun without her.
She looked down, over the edge. There was a time when such a drop would have terrified her. That was a long time ago, but she still remembered the fear, the way her wings locked to her sides at the thought, even when those same wings would have kept her safe. She could do that again, couldn’t she? Just imagine that feeling, lock her wings, and jump.
She thought back to those years ago, when the thought of facing a dragon had terrified her. But that pony seemed so far away. The events were muted, faded, as if they belonged to somepony else. The dragon didn’t scare her anymore. She’d faced it and prevailed, and besides, she knew so many dragons these days.
The fall, perhaps? No, that didn’t scare her either. She could just open her wings, and the fall was powerless against her.
Instead, she looked back at Ponyville. Stared at the castle, and the laughing, happy ponies inside. And then she stepped off the edge.
The wind caught her, and she sighed as she settled into its embrace.
Three, four, five.
As she fell, the castle slipped out of view. She could still imagine it, though. Twilight would be trying to be a good host, even though Pinkie would have thought of everything. Rarity would be chatting about the latest gossip. Applejack would be drinking something, there for the food and the company, happy just being present.
And Rainbow would be happy. She would be talking about her team, her latest stunt, her latest triumph. Maybe the latest swooning fan she’d gotten into her bed. Would Rainbow even notice that she wasn’t there? Would she care?
Ten, eleven, twelve.
She wouldn’t care, Fluttershy decided. After all, she hadn’t cared when they’d broken up. She hadn’t cared enough not to sleep with other ponies. She hadn’t even cared about what their friendship meant, the first time they’d kissed. She just took what she wanted, and then discarded it when it wasn’t what she wanted anymore.
Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.
The wind was still trying to hold her up. It tried to support her, to push her away from the ground. It tried to slow her down, but it wasn’t enough. It was the only thing trying to save her, and it wasn’t strong enough.
She turned her gaze to the ground below. She could do it, right? She didn’t have to open her wings. She didn’t have to save herself, like she had all those other times. She didn’t have to be strong enough.
Seventeen.
Her vision blurred, tears being swept from her eyes by the wind as fast as they came out.
Twilight was fifteen the first time she was sure Celestia was lying to her.
In retrospect, she should have said something then. But it was a small lie, and it was only because Celestia didn’t want to hurt her. It was harmless. So Twilight let it go without objection. Celestia could be allowed one small lie. What was the worst that could happen?
The next time Twilight was sure Celestia was lying to her, Nightmare Moon returned.
By the time Twilight realized she’d been lied to, it was too late to confront Celestia about it. After all, she’d been kidnapped, and the land was being thrust into eternal night. Things had been hectic. And then, the royal sisters had been so happy to be reunited, and everyone was exhausted. It was the wrong time to bring it up, and everything had worked out. It would have ruined the victory they shared. So she let it slide.
Then Celestia told her everything was fine. Even if something was wrong with Cadence, it was nothing they couldn’t handle. Nothing could defeat Celestia.
It had seemed gauche to point out that she had been wrong when she was lying on the ground with a smoking horn.
“This is Starswirl’s last spell. Never finished. I wouldn’t send it to you if it wasn’t safe.” A lie. She’d known what would happen. She’d planned for it.
“Discord is reformed. He won’t betray us.” Was she just mistaken? Or had she known all along that the only way to unlock Rainbow Power was to allow it to happen?
“The changelings aren’t a threat to us anymore.” How had they captured her? Again?
“We have a plan for you. You’ll play your part.”
It was too late. It had gone on too long. Twilight could look at them and know that she was being lied to. But she could do nothing about it. She was a Princess, even though she served no purpose. She was Celestia’s star pupil, her sword against all of the dangers Equestria faced.
There was no way she could tell Princess Celestia, Alicorn of the Sun, Ruler of Equestria, that she didn’t trust her anymore.
So she continued to smile and wave. And as those doors closed, sealing her away from her mentor and the chance to do anything important with her title, resentment grew within her.
She stood in that empty hallway, her gut roiling, staring at that door. Her resentment turned to anger, and her teeth ground together. But she pushed it down. “I trust you,” she whispered. “You’re doing what you know to be best.”
Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Equestria, stepped into the hospital room. It was large, far larger than its occupant really needed, but space was cheap these days.
“Hello, Applejack,” she murmured as she approached the bed.
The pony lying there was old, her coat faded and her mane gray. She turned, looking up at the alicorn standing above her. Twilight still looked just as regal as she had fifty years ago, when they had all been in their prime. “Hello, Twilight,” she murmured. “It’s good to see you again.”
Twilight looked down, her expression somber, before she scanned the empty room. “Is nopony else here?” she asked quietly.
Applejack chuckled. “Don’t you worry about that, Twilight. I get plenty o’ visitors. Apple Bloom was just here, but she thought you might want to talk to me alone.”
Twilight nodded, silent for a moment. “It’s still not too late, you know,” she said quietly.
Applejack gave her a wry smile. “Is that the only reason you’re here, Twilight?”
“I… I mean, I want to see you, of course, but if you’d just…”
Applejack shook her head. “It ain’t natural, Twilight.”
“Is that what you told Apple Bloom?”
Applejack scowled. “Now, that ain’t fair—”
“Why not?”
Applejack paused. “I mean, I ain’t gonna police her choices, but that don’t mean what she does is right for me.”
Twilight cocked her head, then turned to the empty space on the other side of the bed. “Is that right, Apple Bloom?” she asked.
There was a shimmer, and an image coalesced into being in the formerly empty space. It was only just barely see-through, and it didn’t quite touch the ground. But other than that, it was a perfect three-dimensional image of Apple Bloom, that moved and breathed and spoke just as she did dozens of years ago, when she was young and healthy. “How’d you know I was listening?”
Twilight smiled. “I always know when my ponies are around,” she said softly. “I am the Princess, remember?”
The holographic Apple Bloom nodded, before turning to her older sister. “I don’t want to tell you what to do, sis,” she murmured. “But I hate seeing you like this.” She gestured with one hoof. “I know you think it’s better out there, but things are just as real in Viquestria. I can smell the grass and watch the sunset and visit my friends whenever I want. I have a future here, that I wouldn’t have out there.”
Applejack sighed. “We’ve talked about this, Apple Bloom. I don’t want to be just… numbers in a machine. That ain’t livin’.”
“And dying is?” Apple Bloom shot back, harshly. A moment later, she realized what she’d said, and looked away.
Applejack sighed. “I know you don’t agree with this, but I just… I can’t see a future for me there.”
Twilight sighed as well. “Is there nothing we can say to convince you, then?” she said quietly. “You’d really rather… fade away?”
Applejack nodded. “I know this… thing you built is your baby, and I’m glad y’all can make ponies happy with it. But, well… it ain’t for me.”
Twilight nodded. “Then I suppose this is goodbye, isn’t it?”
“I suppose it is.”
Twilight looked around, and then nodded slightly. All around her, more slightly see-through ponies appeared. Rainbow Dash glowed in neon colors, Rarity was a young and beautiful nineteen, Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie were both comfortably middle-aged.
The room was soon full. Big Mac and Sugar Belle, Mayor Mare and the Cakes and Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo and a whole group of Apple family members.
“Hey, y’all,” Applejack said, a smile lingering on her face. “Were y’all listening in too?”
Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes and was first to speak. “I mean, duh. What else would we be doing when our oldest friend is dying for no reason?”
“Rainbow,” Fluttershy admonished. “Don’t be mean.”
Rainbow rose up towards the ceiling, her wings beating despite having no use here. “It’s just—ugh! Why do you have to be so stubborn, Applejack?”
Applejack chuckled. “You’re just mad I beat you at something, Rainbow.”
“I—what—that doesn’t even—” Rainbow sputtered.
Rarity stepped in. “Darling, we all know we can’t force you to upload if that’s not what you want. But, I will say that I’ve designed a whole line of dresses for you that won’t fit anypony else. It would be a shame if you never got to wear them.”
Applejack rolled her eyes. “Virtual dresses, Rarity. They ain’t real. Besides, since when have I been motivated by a dress?”
Rarity smiled softly. “You haven’t. But you have been motivated by a gift.”
Applejack opened her mouth, and then paused. “Damnit, Rarity, that’s low.”
Rarity smiled. “Perhaps. But it is effective, is it not?”
Applejack grunted, and didn’t respond.
Pinkie stepped up next. Though, ‘blinked’ might be more accurate. She had never much cared for the laws of physics even when they applied to her, and now she flaunted them openly. “Applejack… you have so many friends here who love you,” she began. “And it’s hard for us to let go, that’s all. We don’t want to have to lose you, when we don’t have to.” She smiled softly. “But we’ll still love you, no matter what, okay?”
Applejack nodded. “Thanks, Pinkie.” She took a slow breath. “I don’t want to abandon y’all. I don’t. But… well, I also don’t want to abandon everypony who ever passed not having this option available to ‘em. And most importantly, I don’t want to do something that don’t feel true to myself. This feels… well, it feels wrong to me. I ain’t saying it was wrong for you, but it feels like it’d be wrong for me.” She shook her head. “But, well…”
She paused, and then looked to Twilight, who was keeping her face carefully still. “Y’all can delete a pony from Viquestria if they want it, yeah?”
Twilight nodded.
“Well… I ain’t saying I’ve made up my mind or nothin’. But I’ll… I’ll think about it, alright? I’ve… I’ve still got time.”
Twilight allowed herself a smile, and stepped forward to hug Applejack. “That’s all I ask,” she murmured, before stepping back. “You think about it, and we’ll all be back tomorrow, alright?”
Applejack smiled softly. “Alright.”
One by one, the gathered virtual ponies made their farewells and faded out, until finally it was only Applejack and Twilight remaining in the room. Twilight turned to leave, but paused as Applejack spoke.
“Twilight?”
“Yes, AJ?”
“Thanks. I know you put everypony up to that.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Applejack settled into bed, and closed her eyes as the lights went out. Tomorrow… tomorrow she’d decide just what to let go of, and just what to keep.
Starlight took a sip of her coffee and checked the time. Only a few hours left until the end of the day, and she still had a line of students outside her office. “I can help who’s next,” she called.
The door to the counselor’s office swung open and Silverstream walked in. Starlight took a deep breath through her nose, mentally bracing herself for whatever the hippogriff had to ask. Then she smiled, and as Silverstream sat, she said, “Hi, Silverstream. What can I help you with?”
Silverstream considered for only the briefest of moments—more than usual—before launching into it. “Well, I had a question. Like, early in the school year when we got roomies, Ocellus and I had a talk about ground rules.” She frowned slightly. “Well, not that early. She was too shy for the first few weeks. But anyway, she made a rule that I didn’t understand, but it seemed just kinda silly and like it would never come up, so I didn’t worry about it too much, but now it’s come up and Ocellus won’t explain so I came to ask you.” She beamed at the counselor expectantly.
Starlight blinked, and took another sip of her coffee. It didn’t help. She waited for a moment, but when it seemed that Silverstream wasn’t going to continue, she asked, “And what rule would this be?”
“Oh!” Silverstream giggled. “Right. Well, okay, so she made me promise that if I came back to the room and there was a sock on the doorknob, I wasn’t allowed to come in. And that seemed super weird, like, how would a sock get on the doorknob, right? That’s not where socks go. But it was a rule, and she sounded very serious, so I agreed and then kinda forgot about it. But then it actually happened! Actually, it’s been happening an awful lot. Like, a few times a week. But Ocellus won’t tell me why when I ask her, she just changes the subject. So I thought you might know.”
Starlight paused. Opened her mouth. Paused again. Then she drank the rest of her coffee. If she’d known she was going to be having this conversation today, she’d have gotten a double. “Um,” she began, eloquently. “So, you see…”
Silverstream leaned forward eagerly.
Starlight gulped. “Well, you see… a sock on the door generally means… how do I put this…” forgive me, Twilight. “It means that sex is happening behind it.”
Silverstream gaped. “Noooo!” She shook her head. “Ocellus wouldn’t! She’s too… Ocellus!”
Starlight shook her head, slightly. At least this was advice she could be confident about. “Well, I think it was very brave of her to bring it up to you at all, since she’s obviously shy about it. And what creatures do in private can often be very different from what they do in public.”
Silverstream frowned, a look of intense thought flitting across her face. Finally she brightened. “Nah. I’m getting to the bottom of this. Thanks, Starlight!”
“Wait, I don’t think—” It was too late. The hippogriff was already out the door. Starlight watched it slowly swing closed, before muttering, “I wonder if I should tell Thorax about this.”
When Silverstream arrived at her dorm room, the sock was still on the door. She took a deep breath, and then knocked on it. “Ocellus?” she called out. “Ocellus, I’m coming in!”
When she didn’t get an answer, she opened the door, covering her eyes with one wing and stepping through. There was an eep that definitely didn’t belong to Ocellus, followed shortly by the changeling yelping, “Silverstream!”
Silverstream couldn’t help it. She lowered her wing and looked. Sitting on the couch between the two beds was Ocellus and Smolder. The dragon was trying to hide her blush with her claws, rather unsuccessfully. Ocellus, on the other hand, just looked annoyed. “I told you not to come in!” she protested.
Silverstream gaped. “Smolder? You and Smolder? And—on the couch? Oh my goodness, Starlight was right!” Before Ocellus could say any more, she had turned tail and fled.
There was a pause as the door slowly swung closed. Smolder lowered her claws, still too embarrassed to say anything.
Ocellus huffed, and then turned back to the dragon. “Where else would you talk about feelings?”
