That word still felt foreign on Luna's tongue. Niece. There had been a niece once, of course - several. Sisters as well. Then came the cutie marks, the ascension, and the bitter, endless frost. Body after body, all lost in the nightmarish tundra as the tribe moved ever onwards. Always seeking the newest horizon; a final respite from the icy hell. Till none but two remained.
"It's a gift!" Twilight beamed, placing the ornately wrapped box on a roughly hewn ironwood table. Dark blue and purple wrapping neatly collided, somehow fitting the rustic, ancient, tone of the diarch's office. Red ink stood out prominently; however, the words ‘To my aunt, with love’ were scrawled neatly on a small tag.
The tears were unexpected. She was a mare of adamantine - aloof and silent as her moon, yet...
"I thank thee, Twilight, but I have all the ‘gift’ I need right here."
When she'd requested they all dress in their finest for this afternoon's 'Apologies for ruining the sleepover' dinner party, Rarity hadn't expected to be the drabbest one there.
"Is it too much?" The diamond dog asked, shimmering emerald fabric sashaying with each slight movement, a royal sun pattern intricately woven throughout her dress's folds.
"Ah don't think so, Twi," Applejack paused, shifting the delicate parasol to her other shoulder. "Though, I do declare you're looking mighty ravishing." She gave a cheeky wink before giggling. "Ah just wish these duds weren't made of flyder silk; cleaning them's darn hard."
Flyder Silk! Royal patterns of office! This was Twilight ‘roll in the dirt before morning coffee’ Sparkle and Applejack ‘sweats a good perfume’ Smith!
Something was wrong here. Had the world been taking crazy pills while she slept? She was the fabulous one - not them!
With a groan of final defeat, an overloaded desk crashed to the floor. Death didn't stop vengeance, though - the immense stacks of paper that brought it low were now bursting forth in a brief, yet surprisingly sharp blizzard.
For a few seconds, the Golden Oaks basement-come-laboratory resembled a Hearths Warming postcard, all white and peaceful.
"Sheesh, Twi, what's with the paper? I thought you were making cool science stuff down here, not writing a book."
Only a few seconds, though.
"They're patent documents, Rainbow," the bicce began scooping up armfuls of the loose paper with a muted grimace on her face.
"Patent?" Rainbow mumbled, her customary hover now abandoned to lend her friend a hoof.
"It’s like-" she paused as an earthenware jug's contents snaked out with a prominent magenta glow before beelining towards the closest pile, "-a certificate saying I made my inventions."
She'd held it back long enough; Twilight was a grown bicce. She couldn't treat her like a foal anymore...and yet...
Celestia took a sip from her shaking teacup, tears on the edge of once dry eyes. It was hard. It shouldn't be, but it was. She couldn't cry though - not on her daughter's eighteenth birthday. This wasn't about her, but...that book, that damnable book!
The only book she'd ever hidden from Twilight. The only book of its kind. The only book about him.
It was a threadbare thing. Even the best preservative spells had limits, and the pony hide cover was shredded and peeling in places for a start. Even so, the title was clear as her sun.
'The Legend of The Thin White Duke'
Trust the Griffons to take an interest in a fellow predator's history.
Steel, brass and tin littered the colt’s floor, his once immaculate carpet now stained with the various greases and oils that each part of the clockwork train had been drenched in. It would (upon reflection) be a nightmare to clean. The servants certainly wouldn't do it; the bedroom belonged to him and thus was his 'responsibility'.
That was a word he used to say a lot, funnily enough. Something to drill into every adult, to profess to the very heavens.
He. Was. Responsible!
Now he rather wished that word would go away. Responsibility, nine-year-old Blueblood found, was tedious. Oh-so tedious.
Looking at the lavender pup - a smile on her face and a screwdriver in each paw - he felt the tedium waver. Yes, he'd grumble, whine, and certainly demand an extra slice of gateau later...but he could be responsible again.
It's a husky voice that cuts through the tittering crowd, bass-y and easily distinctive, just the thing she needs. The more notable rubes in these towns always were the easiest to make a spectacle of. Local personalities (in Trixie's experience) tended to generate a few extra bits, and she needed every single one if Canterlot was up next. Stage hire was never cheap.
Languidly turning to face her opponent, she shifted to 'smug and all-knowing look #21', getting ready to-
The shadow loomed ominously over her, its owner giving off the air of an overgrown filly in a candy shop. Her smile was meant to be cute...hopefully, but the fangs just didn't help. At all.
"I've been watching your act, it's very interesting. I can't really do the 'traditional' magic duel, but there are a few theories on sleight of hand I'd like to try..."
A coral screen shifts briefly, aqua eyes blinking as their owner takes in the question. They'd been friends for a few weeks now, yet that didn't abate the phantoms crawling throughout her skull at even the most basic of social interactions. Just made it...easier. In a way.
“I-I um, yes. Yes, I do.”
The farm mare sucks in a breath, inspecting the simple landscape with an exaggerated eye, "It's real pretty Fluttershy."
"T-thank y-you."
She wants to talk, explain how the screeching in her mind quietens and tremors slow, how the light shining on the butterflies is never quite right, how Angel Bunny helps every morning. She just can't. It's too much, too soon.
"Ah bet you could get in a fancy gallery with something like that," Applejack grins, not a hint of irony or sarcasm in her voice.
That was the best way Twilight could describe the Running of the Leaves. Different. On a lot of levels.
The cheers for one. There was something alarmingly pleasant about ponies screaming her name in happiness rather than the hushed whispers she was more familiar with. Whitetail woods was a spectacular biome she'd have to study in more detail as well, an honest-to-sun Starlus beetle had flitted past during the final lap! Her friend's shocked faces were the highlight though. Whilst it wasn't exactly common knowledge, she could still run on all fours. It was just a bit puppy-ish is all, though the oncoming backache certainly added another reason to leave that little party trick at home
"Wanna try again next year Twilight?" Pinkie asked, abandoning Time Turner on the grounded announcer's balloon, "You only got fourth place this time!"
"Well, I wish I didn't have needles sticking out of my rear end."
"Touche"
"It's just-" a muted 'ow' signals that once again Twilight Sparkle just could not keep herself still! "-I fail to see why one would need a... what was it again?"
"A spy suit."
Fresh needles float gracefully about Carousel Boutique, each one tending to the arduous task of simultaneously working with both difficult material and customer.
"Yes, a 'spy suit," Tape measures whirl, readjust and then unfurl once more. "Who are we spying on, for example? Surely the Elements Of Harmony are too flashy for that sort of thing?"
Even through all the fur, Rarity could spot a blush. That adorable little shut-in just couldn't help herself sometimes.
"'...I'm going to prank Rainbow Dash."
"Ah, very well then. Let us get on with it, shall we?"
As a politician, even one in a town as relatively insignificant as Ponyville, Mayor Mare understood the power of connections. Having a genuine link with the voting masses was vital, and she was sure it aided her to unseat the corrupt incumbent Mayor, Big Mane.
To see it done so poorly, therefore, hurt on a level that was hard to describe. What was worse, Lady Sparkle made it work somehow. A simple lunch break had turned into a masterclass.
"Howdy Roseluck," squeaked the tiny Applejack, sitting uncomfortably in a grimacing Twilight Sparkles open paw, the farmer's miserable expression mirrored on those four disfigured Bearers milling about nearby.
"Ah'd like to introduce you to my friend, Zecora. She's not from around here."
The cloaked zebra wandered closer, nodding cordially.
There was a lesson here, she reflected. Speciesism in front of Lady Sparkle wasn't just a bad idea, it was downright embarrassing.
"T-This is safe, right Twilight?" whispered a fluffed-up pegasus, currently strapped into a metal chair and adorned with several paw-made devices of a confusingly technical nature.
"Don't worry Fluttershy," the bicce said soothingly, adjusting a pair of dark safety goggles over her eyes, "When I pull this switch-" she gestured to the oversized implement currently resting in a crackling box, "-it'll utilise my lab's leyline connection, boosting your innate cloud walking magic into a refractive pulse."
"Oooh math, I know a math jok-"
Twilight raised her paw, tapping the crudely painted 'Pinkie Free Zone' sign. It was a miracle the ever-cheerful earth pony had even been allowed inside. Her friends were teetering on the edge of getting their own signs, however.
"It's positively marvellous you've a device allowing us to see Rainbow compete, it does work though, yes?" Rarity frowned.
"Let's find out!" she cackled, flinging the switch.
The diamond dog opened her eyes, and they burnt . The sun, the world, everything! It was all so bright and unnatural. She couldn't feel the earth either. Even in Cloudsdale, miles above ground, there had been that familiar presence in her bones.
This place was alien, alien, and wrong.
"Oh, wow, you're...kinda Twilight. Not my Twilight -" the reverberating voice chuckled, "- though the resemblance is a bit uncanny, at least when she runs out of leg wax."
It-she was too loud. Combining that with the unnatural place, and its intense light, led to a nervous system ablaze. Her only recourse was curl inwards, shaking like a puppy.
"Hey there, Twi. I'm sorry. Took me a minuite to figure out what was going on and change the settings." The voice, this time much quieter and closer, said.
While he didn't consider himself to have a 'type', there was something about a mare that could look him in the eye, something that made an infamously strict Solar Guard Captain act foolishly. Indescrete was a word his colleagues used, but they were just embarrassed to admit their own truths. Not that it mattered currently. They were the ones exhausting themselves on display. He could hear the crowds cheering even this deep in the building, his troops busy dodging lances, gathering rings, and catching errant balls.
Carousel wasn't for him.
"Hello. Do I know you, Miss ...?" His not-voice projected, its harsh echo undercutting any attempt at being sauve.
"Cosette, Crackle Cossete," the mare said, her cool gaze setting his body ablaze.
This was a bad idea. The third in six months. She'd found out about the last two, but one more go around couldn't hurt, right?
I left home at the customary time, four thirty-eight pm exactly on the dot, to begin my routine grocery run. As days went, this one had been particularly fruitful: three sales, one repair job, and my personal project gaining some high-grade arbors. A warm glow suffused me, one that even the confusing and contradictory residents of Ponyville couldn't miss. Yet when it happened they still left me. Ponies called me rude, but they abandon me.
It was the crowds. They shouldn't be there, and it all became overwhelming quickly. Fur and noise blended into a dizzying cacophony. I'd been staring at my watch (double hunter, bronze wheels, custom steel pinions, copper engraved casing) for exactly eighteen minutes and twenty-five seconds, the steady motions making me feel calm. Then she arrived...the diamond dog.
The procession of sky-bound apple trees began with little fanfare.
Braeburn had expected something fancy. Dribbly candles, animal blood, ancient words of power, the works. Instead, that dog had just hooked herself up to their leyline connection and lickety-split, there they went. He didn't like it, to tell the truth. Not just because it wasn't good, honest, pony magic, but it seemed...unnatural. Cousin Crimson Smoke had tried that trick a few years back, poor idiot had blown his horn off for the trouble. No, there was something definitely wrong with that friend of Cousin Applejack's, and it wasn't just her snooty opinions.
"You think she was right, Braeburn?"
He snorted, turning away from the awe-inspiring display of arcane might and glaring at a cringing Dusty Bowls.
"We 'aint no 'illegal colonisers' Dusty, land was here before them Buffalos were. Not our fault they didn't claim it."
Inky blackness engulfed Twilight, her glowing paws doing little to avert its all-consuming storm. Expecting pain, what she received instead was significantly more perplexing.
Grey. Lots and lots of grey.
A quick inspection told her she was no longer in the Castle Of The Two Sisters, seemingly teleported to some utterly barren plane. Her mother had said such things were possible, difficult, but possible. Who knew Nightmare Moon's limits?
"Why do you fight me, Twilight Sparkle?" A sinister voice echoed, its tones a blend of the familiar and alien. "We are the same, no?"
"I'm nothing like you!" She snapped, lavender eyes franticly searching for her opponent.
"You wish for respect. To be loved, adored, and acknowledged." The Alicorn coalesced in a plume of ebony smoke, her face lacking the customary grin she'd been sporting, now morose. "I will give you that and so much more...Princess Sparkle."
I write this now for posterity, for all those in the future who find this l̶̶̶o̶̶̶n̶̶̶g̶̶̶ ̶̶̶a̶̶̶f̶̶̶t̶̶̶e̶̶̶r̶̶̶ ̶̶̶I̶̶̶'̶̶̶m̶̶̶ ̶̶̶n̶̶̶o̶̶̶t̶̶̶h̶̶̶i̶̶̶n̶̶̶g̶̶̶ ̶̶̶b̶̶̶u̶̶̶t̶̶̶ ̶̶̶d̶̶̶u̶̶̶s̶̶̶t̶̶̶ ̶̶̶o̶̶̶n̶̶̶ ̶̶̶t̶̶̶h̶̶̶e̶̶̶ ̶̶̶w̶̶̶i̶̶̶n̶̶̶d .
My name is C̶a̶d̶a̶n̶c̶e Mi Amore Cadenza, I am nineteen years old. I a̶m̶ was a pegasus. I'm now t̶e̶r̶r̶i̶f̶i̶e̶d royalty, but above that, I'm a f̶r̶a̶u̶d deity.
In Equestria, there is no greater c̶u̶r̶s̶e blessing.
Found by earth ponies in Vanhoover u̶n̶w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶,̶ ̶t̶o̶s̶s̶e̶d̶ ̶a̶w̶a̶y̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶t̶r̶a̶s̶h, I was raised with love and care by my adoptive parents. One month ago, I discovered a plot by the wicked enchantress, s̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶s̶a̶d̶,̶ ̶s̶o̶ ̶i̶n̶c̶r̶e̶d̶i̶b̶l̶y̶,̶ ̶u̶n̶e̶n̶v̶i̶a̶b̶l̶y̶,̶ ̶s̶a̶d Prismia. Using her mystical necklace i̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶u̶s̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶h̶e̶r̶,̶ ̶I̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶ ̶i̶t , she sought to steal the village's love. Confronting the unicorn, my overpowering love defeated her I̶ ̶s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶h̶e̶a̶r̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶s̶c̶r̶e̶a̶m̶s , and she d̶i̶e̶d repented.
On that day, ̶m̶y̶̶̶ ̶̶̶g̶̶̶o̶̶̶d̶̶̶ ̶̶̶f̶̶̶o̶̶̶r̶̶̶s̶̶̶o̶̶̶o̶̶̶k̶̶̶ ̶̶̶m̶̶̶e̶ I ascended.
A very smart pony had said that once. She, being of average intelligence and above average bounciness, had disbelieved it. Giggles didn't have to hurt, surely? No pony got cut from a whoopie cushion, while words certainly weren't sticks and stones. Until suddenly, they were. The blood wasn't coppery and red, but ponies bled all the same. Their happiness released in arterial sprays, invisible gore coating their lives.
Pinkie Pie had no truck for that.
So she made a vow that day. When Marble spoke for the last time, and Limestone lost her smile. She'd take it. She'd take all of it.
Every pratfall. Every harsh word. Every cut, real or otherwise.
You could flay her alive, drain every last drop of blood, and turn all two hundred and five bones into powder. She'd still be the funniest pony in the room. She had to be.
"Just another day in paradise," mumbled Mister Waddles, the elderly minister running a broom through his humble parish church slowly. Without warning a thought hit him like a sun bolt from above, akin to those prophets of old. Ponyville was paradise...of a sort.
Was he not by the side of his goddess's daughter? The scriptures had made it clear: When the immortal sun princess was with child, the world's ills would be at an end. Of course, the Nightmare was in the details, namely those original books of faith. Written in old ponish by tribes who'd only just begun cross-cultural exchange, translating this hybrid language to the common tongue had become exceedingly difficult.
'With Child' was a sticking point. The faith could accept Lady Sparkles' form, but her exact origins were controversial.
Still, was she not Slayer of the Night Devil? Chosen of Harmony?
Spinning Dazzle had been in the magazine industry for twenty years. So naturally, she felt that gave her a bit of confidence when it came to weeding out fakes. Articles written by the incompetent, by ghosts (non-literal thankfully), or with AI boosters.
She'd never know why ponies thought eating Asena intestines was worth the meagre results it produced, but that was the world she lived in.
Still...
"You wrote this yourself?"
He smiled despite the lack of honorific, something she'd been sure would rattle him.
"Oh certainly, you'd be surprised at how a fellow can wax lyrical on the merits of seersucker."
Dazzle lifted the sheet once more, its contents still disturbingly enthralling. The stallion had turned a simple question about summer wear into three thousand words of informative humour and whimsy. What could he do with a regular slot?
Bewilderment reigned amongst the fliers companions, shadows dancing around their campfire. It wasn't just the speed of her answer, but the content that befuddled each Bearer.
All save one.
"That's an interesting choice, Rainbow Dash." Twilight mumbled around a strip of dried fish, "Why him specifically?"
" 'Cause he's scum," she replied, face wrinkling in a way reserved for rulebooks and no-fly zones.
"Mind enlightin' us there, you two?"
"It's... ancient pegasus history, I think?" Squeaked a mop of pink hair cocooned within her sleeping bag, big blue eyes nervously glancing into the darkness.
"Before the Princesses, before Commander Hurricane, even before the windigos-" Rainbow Dash snarled, "-there was this war. A pegasus cloud city and some unicorns didn't like each other too much. Odds were on the pegasi, till Epfihaytes, a crippled citizen, sold them out in exchange for fixing his wings. All dead. Pure evil. Next question, Pinkie Pie."
Gifts were meant to be given, whether wanted or not. It was a core facet of her being, like breathing or laughter. In the blood, quite literally.
She was never sure who had it first. There was just enough pegasi in her ancestry that it could match up to myth and legend. That felt too neat though, like one of those store wrapped gifts, all pretty looks but utterly devoid of personality. No, life was messy.
Nana had the twitches, of that she was sure. She bore her name, her mane, and her secrets. All of them. It had skipped her mother, you see. Nana had tried to coax it to no avail. Grey in coat and grey in personality, her mother lacked, and it stung Nana dearly.
Then she'd popped out one blustery morning, and joy blossomed. Nana Pinkie always believed there was no greater gift than the future.
"Ah don't get the fuss myself," Applejack said, a muted shrug directed to her hysterical friend.
"You wouldn't!" Rarity hissed, managing to keep her voice under the barest semblance of control as she filled up a third stylish-yet-demure woven bag.
Ignoring the thinly veiled insult, Applejack yawned. She'd seen plenty of odd things in her days, and while this wouldn't rank anywhere near the top, it certainly made the list. That was merit worthy in itself.
"You've more shoes than a mare has any right to need, I reckon," the farmer observed dryly, another conga line of bizarre shapes and hues ambling out of her friend's closet. Even during her youth in the big city, she'd be hard taxed to match this indulgence.
"Well… I require samples. Yes, samples. Compare and contrast, darling. One must stay on top to improve."
Honestly, all this fuss over pig leather boots, really!
She stared at the small puff of lavender fur seated on her carpet, a drooling, stumbling, mess that she was expected to interact with. Was Celestia mad? Ignoring what the…thing was for a moment, there were her personal studies to consider.
How would she reach that next stage, that next step to something better than cold nights and empty stomachs, if she became a glorified babysitter? Good for 'social development' her amber ass.
No, she'd tell her teacher firmly. This was naught but folly, and she'd have nothing to do with it. Why should she share with this…mutt.
"You're an ugly little thing," she said, leaning over the creature, scowl in place.
Despite her fearsome visage, the puppy took no notice, burbling away happily. Its lavender eyes, she noticed, were massive, just as oversized as the giant paws currently-
She'd traced her steps back from memory, one thousand years to some was barely a week to others. Admittedly, the second category was thin on the ground, but she hadn't always been as ignorant as the serfs thought.
Luna hadn't expected much upon arrival, honestly, but what she found still brought forth bitter tears.
Scrubland.
He'd sacrificed everything. Honour, Valor, Safety, even his very life in the end…for this.
She still remembered that icy gaze, utterly defiant to the very end, and a shard of fear jamming it's way through even her Nightmare clouded mind. The history books barely made mention of him, but perhaps he was the first chink? Her drubbing of the Pillars had been close wrought, but they were heroes one and all, while he'd been just a mere mortal in the end. A sign of things to come, perhaps?
My teeth grit at her feigned ignorance, Roselily knew who I was. I'd fixed her Grandfather Clock a mere five months ago. Simple procedure, mildly damaged counterweight. Only an idiot wouldn't remember.
"Wind Up," I said calmly, seething inside, while my eyes darted away from hers. Why did every pony do that? Our ears worked perfectly well, vision was wasted on something so simple as communication. Instead, you coul-
"There!" I cried, gesturing with a hoof to the yellow roses in the back of her display. Something about them…something stood out. I couldn't grasp it, but for once, that didn't elicit frustration.
Coins passed hooves as she blathered, but I was laser focused. It was necessary, without that determination I'd become a jelly pile. This was my fourth and furthest attempt so far. Success was within reach!
"We do not approve of this, physician!" Princess Luna growled, her bodies ticks telling me more than the mares mouth ever could.
She knew it was necessary, believed me implicitly, even. The infuriating Alicorn just didn't want to do it, though.
"As your therapist-" I said softly, voice still audible in my temporary office within Canterlot Castle, "-I think it'll be good for you. Focus on the here and now, not some 'wider destiny', you'll also get to reconnect with your- "
"Yes, yes, the serfs."
"Subjects…" I whined, having already warned her several times in the past. If her eyes rolled any harder, they'd have shot out of her sockets by now.
She hummed from a moment, before her face became a familiar scowl.
"Can I merely not have the turf brought to me? It's certainly within the royal peroga-why are you laughing? You said 'Touch grass', no?"
