Here and Not Here
Your Faithful Disciple
A My Little Pony fanfic by LysanderasD
It goes something like this.
Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria…
Sunny Starscout flopped ungracefully onto her bed.
A light breeze through the open window in her room ruffled the curtain. The air was warm and damp and smelled of the sea, and the muffled sound of distant waves entered with the wind as water broke against land. She heard ponies, distant and indistinct, and the bells of ships in the harbor.
It was late in the day, and Sunny had just finished dinner for herself. The rest of the house was still and silent. Briefly, she wondered if her parents were coming back today.
Her head turned as she sought out something to occupy her attention, and her eyes landed on the figures arranged on her end table. She smiled.
“Rainbow Dash,” she said aloud, largely for the sake of hearing something. “Rarity. Applejack. Fluttershy. Pinkie Pie.” She sat up a little better, bringing a hoof to her chest and taking a deep breath. “Loyalty. Generosity. Honesty. Kindness. Laughter.”
It was a kind of mantra, one that she’d begun when she’d managed to snag the Applejack figurine from the town market a few years back, and expanded every time she’d landed a new figurine. AJ had been the start of her collection, and most definitely the easiest to find. She remembered holding the little amber earth pony figure in her hooves, the earnest and forthright smile on its face, and she swore she could almost hear it speak to her. She'd had to have it, and that was the honest truth.
(Be honest with yourself: Is this how ponykind should be?)
Sunny rolled off the bed and trotted over to the window, moving the curtain out of the way and securing it on the hook next to the sill. She sat and looked out over the bay. The sun was setting over the water, and she gave a small smile as another warm breeze blew some of the sea air into her room.
Pinkie Pie had been next. This one had come from an overland traveler, an earth pony who’d come all the way to Maretime Bay from the Equestrian heartland—right near Ponyville. So much of Equestria had forgotten the Elements—or, at least, had forgotten that the Elements had, at one point, stood for something—but it was said that Ponyville never forgot Pinkie Pie. And the sheer fact that somepony this far out on the coastline still remembered her had put such a smile on the traveler's face.
(When’s the last time you really laughed?)
The others had been harder. There was plenty of trade between earth pony settlements, but there was no call for pegasus or unicorn merchandise in such places. Those who spoke of the Elements in Maretime Bay knew Honesty and Laughter well enough, but the others had been relegated to “the rest of them,” spoken of indirectly and given even less reverence than the lip service the earth pony Elements received.
She turned back to look at the collection. Five figures stood on the end table, proudly smiling back in her direction.
From the earnest pegasus scholar, come to town to try and establish trade relations with Zephyr Heights, she’d received Fluttershy. Sunny’s parents had been kind enough to host her for the one night she’d stayed in town. It was the first time Sunny had ever spoken to a pegasus.
(Wasn’t there a time when everypony would have shown such kindness to a stranger?)
More recently, an elderly pegasus had come all the way from Hope Hollow. Unable to fly the distance, he’d wandered past Sunny’s home, seeking passage to the harbor proper. Sunny had watched from her window as her neighbors stared at the struggling figure rather than help him, and then she’d taken it upon herself to lend a shoulder. Before he’d climbed aboard the boat—headed to Mount Aris, he said, though Sunny had no idea where that was or why anypony would go—he had turned and gently offered the Rainbow Dash figurine.
His family, he’d said, was once trained by Rainbow herself—and such a display of stalwart loyalty, even to a stranger, was worth this sort of reward.
(When did loyalty become just looking out for your own?)
Rarity had come from Sunny’s father. It came with an admission that, well, he really didn’t understand why she was collecting all of this stuff, but it seemed harmless enough. There had been a time, when he was a foal, when there was a lot more reverence afforded these figures—before, he said, Equestria had really… drifted apart, quietly. And it had clearly been good for Sunny’s disposition—she’d been going out of her way to help ponies, and in general had seemed so earnest, so well-meaning.
The time for Equestrian heroes was past, he said; there was no room anypony’s hearts for the Elements of Harmony. Not anymore. But Sunny’s earnestness, he said, was a gift unlike any other—a reminder of what Equestria used to be, even if it was out of reach now. So he’d asked around, cast out some—ha!—nets, and before long the little white unicorn sat primly with her friends on Sunny’s end table.
(What would you give, to bring it all back—if you could?)
Five figurines. Sunny’s ears pinned back and she gave a little half scowl, walking to the end table and raising a hoof in a vain attempt to straighten them out, pristinely placed as they were. She was missing one. The most important one. She’d left a space in the middle of the row, in the center, where she belonged. Twilight Sparkle.
The filly sighed and kicked a hoof on the floor.
Sunny believed the tales. Really believed them, in a way that almost nopony did anymore. About the Elements of Harmony, about Princess Twilight Sparkle. About how six different ponies came together, so different and distinct, and changed Equestria forever. So many threats ended. So many foes redeemed. Equestria had opened its borders to all comers, allowing creatures the world over to embrace Harmony, be they griffons or kirin or even dragons.
The modern Equestria felt so—grey. Tense and stressed. Gripped by paranoia and fear. Only recently, Maretime Bay had instituted a rule—not in the charter, but a rule nonetheless, spoken in hushed tones on docks and in alleyways—banning the other tribes from staying within city limits. Something had changed. But if things had been bright and hopeful once, they could be again. This Sunny believed with all her heart; if she could only get others to believe, too. To believe in something greater than themselves—an Equestria united.
Somehow.
She sighed and closed her eyes.
Twilight Sparkle sighed and closed her eyes.
Not that she had eyes, or even a body per se, in this place—this Elsewhere, the sea of stars, where she’d first ascended. It was more a mental place, a spiritual place, separate from space and time in the conventional sense—it had been a fascinating topic to study, and she’d had, well, plenty of time lately, in a manner of speaking.
But the idea of a body was convenient. She was used to it. So she stood on a path made of stars and looked out into the gentle darkness, images of pasts and futures whirling gently around—or at least all of this was true metaphorically, and it was good enough for her.
She wondered, briefly, if Luna had rubbed off on her more than she’d thought.
The image of the earth filly hung suspended in front of her, one hoof held out to the table, reaching for the empty space between the figurines. Twilight lifted her own hoof, holding it up toward the image, a weak, slightly sardonic smile quirking her lips.
“They’ve turned us into toys,” she said, only a little sourly.
“You’ll get used to it.”
The Princess of the Night’s voice was warm and gently needling, but there was an undertone of resignation to it.
Twilight turned her head. Luna was standing on the starlight path beside her. She had not been there a moment ago, but—such was the nature of Elsewhere. She was taller than Twilight—though perhaps that was because Twilight thought of herself here as she had been when she was younger, still the size of a normal pony.
Twilight looked back at the image suspended in front of her and lowered her hoof. “I guess,” she responded slowly. “But…”
But. She wasn’t sure how to follow up on that, how to put what she was feeling into words. Beside her, Luna shifted slightly. When she spoke next, the elder alicorn’s tone was careful, contemplative.
“Despite our best efforts, ponykind saw fit to think of my sister and I as gods. Or something near enough to them not to matter. And both you and I are rather intimately familiar with the myth I became, and what became of the myth in my absence.”
Unbidden, images of a moonlit Nightmare Night rose to Twilight’s mind, and shimmered into being around her. Luna looked about and smiled. “I am glad to see you still remember that night so clearly. I suppose the Royal Canterlot Voice does make an impression…”
Twilight shook her head. The other images disappeared, and the illusion of Sunny Starscout, hoof outstretched, pulled in closer. “I don’t think this is the same,” she muttered, flicking her tail in vague frustration. “You were revered. We’re being—”
“Merchandised?” Luna smiled. “As if that were so special. Look.” Luna reached out and touched the image with a hoof, dragging across it, changing perspective as though manipulating a film. “See the tapestry above her bed? Ah, if only Celestia could collect on the royalties…”
Twilight let out a small sigh, mouth forming a thin line. Luna’s smile broadened, but she gestured placatively with her hoof.
“But this is different,” Twilight insisted. “We… all of us… changed Equestria. Brought it together. We embodied Harmony, and made Equestria prosper. There was real magic. Real power. And now we’re… that. Toys. Icons. Reduced to our simplest representations—and without a care for what we did or how we did it.”
She took a deep breath. When Luna raised an eyebrow, she shook her head and continued. “I know it’s not like nothing I did meant anything, and I’m not trying to imply that. I mattered. We all mattered. And your faith in us was well-placed. The Council of Friendship accomplished so much, filled Equestria with Harmony and hope… and now we’re plastic figurines on a shelf, sold to the highest bidder. In a way, this is what Tirek, Chrysalis, and Cozy all wanted. I think I’m allowed to be a little bitter. Not to mention how magically-starved Equestria has become…”
Luna had returned to her distant, contemplative look. “Magic moves like moonlight. It ebbs and flows like the tides; it comes and goes like the fullness of the Moon. We are subject to it as much as we subjugate it. You and I—and Celestia, and Cadance, and Flurry, of course—are all keenly aware that, for all the power we wield, there are forces at work greater than us. Harmony has a will, and it will find a way—and you can see, even in its absence, that it guides ponies still.”
She pointed back to the image, which had focused again on Sunny. The filly’s lips were moving, and Twilight leaned forward, flicking her ears up to listen.
“Dear Princess Twilight…”
“Dear Princess Twilight,” Sunny muttered.
It was said, in the tales, that Twilight Sparkle had had a mentor, an elder Princess, beautiful and serene like the summer day. Celestia—the Sky and the Sun, whose cutie mark adorned the tapestry over her headboard. If Twilight had been the one to spread the light of Harmony, then Celestia had been the very source of that light, and, in the oldest tales, it was said that Twilight often turned to her mentor to tell her what she had learned in letters sent by dragonfire.
Sunny didn’t have a dragon, and it wasn’t like the Princess of Friendship had a cell phone or email address. So she did what she could instead. She prayed.
Twilight watched as Sunny spoke, and the words wrote themselves out in glistening, flickering orange light beside the filly’s image; like her, it was here and not here, but the tenuous reality did not change the sentiment.
Dear Princess Twilight,
I don’t know if you can hear me… I mean, you probably can’t. But I just want you to know… that I believe.
I believe in Loyalty, and that it doesn’t have to only be to your family, or to your tribe, but to anypony… or anycreature. I believe in Generosity, and that we all have something to give each other. I believe in Honesty, and that if we all told each other the truth about how we feel rather than hiding behind lies, we could all come together again.
I believe in Kindness, and that all it takes to make a friend is a smile. I believe in Laughter, and that you can find joy anywhere if you dig hard enough. And… I believe in Magic. I believe in Harmony. I know we’ve cast it all aside—I know that Equestria these days probably looks nothing like what you remember.
And… I bet that saddens you. If even half the stories I’ve heard about you are true, we must have fallen a long way from the days when you were in charge. I can only imagine how much that hurts. Change frightens creatures—I’ve seen that even here and now, in Maretime Bay. But you went through change and came out okay, so…
I guess what I’m trying to get at is… Even if nopony else believes in you and the Elements any more, I do. I believe in Equestria, and I believe in Harmony. And I know the rest of the world could learn to believe again too. I just… need a sign. A push. Anything.
No… I think what I need is… a friend. So… could I ask for your help? In finding and making a friend. You had to start somewhere, once, right? So I can’t think of anypony better to ask.
Your faithful
The words paused, almost visibly hesitating, like a quill suspended over parchment. The image of Sunny furrowed her brow.
Your faithful stu disciple,
Sunny Starscout
Twilight did not have to look to recognize the wide, and widening, grin on Luna’s face.
“You have a disciple,” the Princess of the Moon said in a low voice. It was almost a purr. “How sweet.”
Twilight sighed and ran one hoof along her other foreleg. “I’m not sure I want a disciple…”
Luna’s amusement was unabashed. “Don’t worry, Twilight. This was due to happen eventually.”
“Yes,” Twilight replied, a little wistfully. “But I had a chance to learn to see Celestia’s flaws… even if it took me a few tries,” she added under her breath. “Sunny might never get that chance. We’re… here, now. Not there. And we might never be able to go back.”
“Perhaps so,” said Luna, finally calming, smile turning serene again. “But you had rather more foresight than Celestia and I in establishing a legacy through written word rather than physical presence. We let the scribes write about us. You, on the other hoof, had the temerity to write about yourself…”
“The… Journal,” Twilight murmured, eyes widening.
“I seem to recall that, at the time, you wondered if publishing it was a mistake.” Luna chuckled, a deep, warm sound. “I think you will find that Harmony is, unlike its more erratic counterpart, not in the business of making mistakes.”
Twilight’s mind was already whirling. The space around the alicorns shimmered with the intensity of her thoughts. “She said she needed a friend… I don’t think I can give her one directly, but…” She turned, looking the Princess of the Moon in the eye. “How do we ensure a copy of the Journal ends up in her hooves?”
“I think,” Luna replied, still looking at the image of the earth filly, “that Harmony has already taken care of that.”
Downstairs, Sunny heard the front door open. She sprang back to her hooves, a smile working its way onto her face as she moved to and opened the door to her room. Downstairs, she heard her father’s voice.
“Sunny? We’re back—and you won’t believe what we found. I think you’ll like it…”
What they found was this:
A seafoam-colored bag, emblazoned with the six-pointed starburst.
Two books, and the tiny lavender figure of an alicorn princess. That took its place in the middle of the group, front and center.
(You can show them the magic. I know you can.)
One of the books was well-loved, dog-earned and peppered with bookmarks in six distinct colors. The other was brown, a golden unicorn emblazoned proudly on the front. It had a very distinctive first page. It goes something like this.
Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria...