Twilight sat on the carpet running along the chapel’s central aisle, watching as her friends walked away. Tears welled up in her eyes, making everything she saw wavy. She looked up at the towering white figure approaching her. She couldn’t see her mentor’s expression clearly, but her mind filled in the kind and loving expression she was most often graced with. Twilight began to stammer out an explanation, “I —”
The illusion was immediately shattered by Celestia’s tone when she interrupted Twilight, “— have a lot to think about.” Celestia walked straight past her and followed her friends outside, shutting the chapel’s doors behind her without even looking back.
Spike ran into the bedroom as soon as he heard Twilight’s shout. She was sitting straight up in her bed, panting and wide‐eyed, wings spread, her forelegs clutching her barrel.
“Did you have a nightmare?” he asked.
Twilight shook her head, “Worse, a memory.”
“Hi, Fluttershy.”
“Please come in.” Fluttershy guided Twilight to her sofa, “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine.” She fidgeted awkwardly, then bit the bullet and pressed ahead, awkwardly. “So..., how is... it?”
Fluttershy smiled, “Oh, it’s great. Though I think it’s going to be a long time before I’m used to it.”
Twilight nodded, “I can see that.”
“Discord’s very upset with himself that he couldn’t do it ‘right’.”
Twilight frowned, “But it’s not his fault. It’s chaos magic...”
“I told him that, but it didn’t help. And it was really hard to get him to promise not to hurt her. That’s part of why I asked you over, actually.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t want you hurting her either.”
Twilight’s frown deepened, “Shouldn’t she be punished for what she did to you?”
“She’s in a dungeon, isn’t she?”
“Serving out her sentences for past crimes. Three sequential life sentences — whatever that means. Sure, let’s go and drag Chrysalis to court again, get another 5 or 10 or 20 years added on. I’m sure she’ll see that as a punishment. She’d probably enjoy going to court just to get away from the dungeon! She’s lucky to be alive. In Old Equestria, they executed ponies that tried to usurp the throne.”
“You’d rather be like Princess Platinum than Princess Celestia?”
Twilight winced at that, “Touché.” She sighed, “Why don’t you want us hurting her, anyway?”
“Because you’re better than her.”
“Once you have a life sentence, you’re effectively immune? That policy makes us better than her?”
“Basically, yes.”
Twilight shifted positions, and glared moodily at her hooves. “She should pay.”
“That’s strangely vengeful for you. And shouldn’t that be my decision?”
Twilight threw her forelegs up, “Great, then you also get immunity because you attack someone who’s too nice!”
Fluttershy waited a few seconds, then said, “Yes.”
“Ugh.”
“What happened to reforming evil‐doers?”
“How many chances do we give her?”
“As many as it takes.”
“Ugh!”
After a long pause, Fluttershy said, “Um, Twilight, can I ask a personal question?”
“After everything we’ve been through together? Just ask!”
“Do your wings feel alien?”
Twilight looked over her shoulder, “They did at first. They felt tacked on. Even when I was flying, even when they hurt.”
“Just at first?”
“Well, it was a slow and gradual process. It took many moons. But now I’d feel incomplete without them.”
Twilight wept as she lay along the chapel’s steps. She’d alienated her family, her friends, and the mentor she loved like a second mother. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so miserable.
Twilight didn’t notice Cadance approaching until the princess tenderly stroked her mane. Blinking the tears from her eyes, she met Cadance’s gaze. The princess looked down with a soft and forgiving smile. Hope swelled in Twilight’s breast as she saw that Cadance knew she held no ill intent.
“I’m sorry,” Twilight pleaded. It might be a long and difficult effort, but she’d find a way to atone for her errors and regain the favor of those who meant everything to her.
The princess’s expression turned wicked. “You will be,” she uttered, and Twilight’s blood turned cold. Green magic flared from Cadance’s horn, surrounding Twilight, trapping her, before turning the floor around her into goo that pulled the young unicorn into darkness.
Spike ran into Twilight’s bedroom, “Another bad memory?”
Twilight wiped her face with her wingtips; she’d been crying in her sleep. Then she answered Spike, “Yeah. It’s so fresh that it’s bringing up old memories. It’ll go away on its own.”
Spike looked skeptical, “You sure about that?”
Twilight furled her wings, “Not really. But we’ll find out.”
“I should have sent troops. That’s what troops are for. That’s what rulers do. I got sappy and thought it’d be a nice adventure for the six of us. Like old times. Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Twilight unconsciously hovered higher and higher as she ranted. “I was ready to handle magical attacks and scanning for magical creatures. Magic, magic, magic, like magic is all there is. I’d seen her teeth! Did I think they were just for show? Not expecting her to use them was stupid, incredibly stupid. I knew she was vicious.”
Fluttershy grabbed Twilight’s shoulders to keep her from hitting her head on the tree‐root chandelier. “Stop it, Twilight. We all knew how vicious Chrysalis could be and we’d all seen her teeth. I know how creatures can lash out without warning, especially when they’re desperate. You’re not stupid for not seeing what we all missed.”
Fluttershy guided Twilight back to the floor. “But that’s not what’s important. Chrysalis did it. Not you. It’s her fault. She’s the one who did it, she’s the one responsible. Nobody else.”
“But if I had—”
“If Discord was there, or even just watching us, he would have turned every nexus of the teleportation ward into mashed potatoes with peas. Does that make it his fault?”
“Of course not.”
“He thinks it does. What makes him wrong and not you?”
“Because I was the one who led you into danger, not him.”
“We all had equal knowledge of the danger, and all decided to go. Unless ... you had some knowledge you kept secret from us?”
“Absolutely not!”
“Want to give it another go?”
“It doesn’t matter that we were all aware of it, I still shouldn’t pull my friends into danger.”
“It took all of us together to defeat Nightmare Moon.”
Twilight bit her lip and eventually replied, “It shouldn’t have happened.”
“Things that shouldn’t happen occur all the time.”
“Because bad people do bad things.”
“Among other reasons.”
Twilight plopped onto her chair, put her forefeet on the table, and buried her head between them. “I’m sorry for being like this.”
Fluttershy rubbed the back of Twilight’s head. “It’s OK. We’re friends. Helping each other with these things is what we do.”
“Now that you have so foolishly revealed your true self, I can protect my subjects from you!” Celestia flew up to the chapel’s ceiling, her blazing horn filling the room with brilliant sunlight. The light gathered and narrowed into a single blinding beam, and shot down at the changeling queen.
Twilight grinned with glee until she realized the intruder’s beam was pushing back Celestia’s one. The princess looked as shocked as Twilight felt. Green light filled the chapel as the last of Celestia’s beam was pushed back into her horn and a blast of viridian light slammed the bested princess to the floor. Celestia’s right wing twisted sickeningly, trapped between her body and the chapel’s stone tiles, and the acrid smell from her burnt horn filled the chapel, overpowering the scents of the flowers as thoroughly as Chrysalis’s magic had overpowered hers.
Twilight rushed to Celestia’s side —
— Twilight’s galloping legs entangled themselves with her sheets and she rolled off her bed, yelping as she landed flat on her face.
Spike walked into the room, “Again?”
Twilight responded with a resigned “Yeah,” as she struggled to free herself from her blanket and bedsheets.
Twilight and Spike were on the way to Sofas & Quills when a distantly‐accented voice called out, “Oh hey, Twilight!”
“Kerfuffle! Thanks for coming over.”
“Hah! It’s nothin’. Ya must be Spike.”
He bowed to the mare, “Spike at your service.”
“I’m visitin’ Rarity for a few days. She’s tol’ me all about’cha.”
“Only good things, I hope.”
“Dont’cha know it! Here, I made a hat for ya.” She dug through her bag and produced a violet knit cap.
“Sweet!”
“Kerfuffle is one of our friends from Hope Hollow.”
Spike asked, “How is Hope Hollow doing?”
“Much better thanks to the Ponyville gals.”
Twilight tilted her head, “‘The Ponyville gals’?”
“After ya left, ya were still the talk of the town. We needed a phrase for the six of ya, and that just kinda established itself.”
“Huh. We have some things on our plate right now, but later —”
“Rarity, Fluttershy, and I are havin’ dinner at Café Hay.”
Twilight and her friends broke through the final line of the last changeling conscript platoon guarding the bridge to the royal vaults. They raced across despite their fatigue from the battle to reach here, as they could see that reinforcements were already approaching. But they were buoyed by how close they were to the Elements of Harmony that would be the salvation of all Equestria.
With her friends mere paces behind her, Twilight triumphantly threw open the doors.
She found herself facing a company of trained changeling soldiers.
“Twilight, you can’t continue going on like this.”
“I know, I know. I’m going to talk with Princess Luna to see if there’s a way to block memories of That Day from becoming dreams.”
“When Gabby first saw it, she was very ... enthusiastic about how awesome my new leg was.”
“That figures for griffons.”
“I know she wanted to make me feel comfortable.”
Twilight hadn’t expected Fluttershy to stop there, so after a while she said, “Good?”
“But I felt uncomfortable.”
“Oh.”
After a longer pause, Fluttershy added “And I don’t really know why.”
The conversation died again, but Fluttershy recognized Twilight’s ‘thinking face’, and waited patiently.
“Just speculating, maybe because it calls attention to something that’s by and large irrelevant?”
“I notice plenty of ponies noticing. That’s not comfortable either, but it’s different.”
“Hmm. If she’s saying it’s better, could that make a conflict with wishing to have kept yours?”
“That might be it.”
Twilight reached out and patted Fluttershy’s hoof. “It would be good to understand why some areas make you uncomfortable so that you’ll better know yourself. But as your friend, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, whether or not you understand why it does. If I cross a line, please tell me. Or if I’m avoiding an area that you’d rather have discussed.”
“Thank you, Twilight. There is another small thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Since fixing my leg, I think Discord is avoiding me.”
“Oh. I’ll go and see if he’ll talk with me.”
“Thanks. I miss him.”
“Backing up some, you said ponies noticing your leg bothered you?”
“I don’t like standing out.”
“Oh. I don’t think you’re ever going to not stand out. But you can get used to standing out.”
“I’ll have to think about that. And what you said earlier.”
“I’m afraid it might be just stating the obvious and common courtesy.” She pointed to Fluttershy’s forehead, “When you get a horn, then I’ll have advice I’m confident about.”
Fluttershy smiled, “How do I do that?”
“I got wings from making a new kind of magic. So, you’ll want to make a new kind of flight!”
The goo was thin enough that Twilight could breathe it, making it impossible for her to drown in it, regardless of how much it felt like she was at first — changelings can’t extract love from a corpse, after all — but thick enough that it was exhausting to do so. This was a reason why changelings’ captives spent so much of the time asleep. Another was there was nothing to do in a cocoon. She couldn’t cast spells, or spread her wings, or even speak.
She watched as one by one her friends greeted the changeling impersonating her, only to get ambushed and pushed into a cocoon. Every time, she tried to warn them by beating on the wall of the cocoon, but she couldn’t build up much speed in her hooves given the goo and the small range of motion the cocoon accorded her legs.
Spike entered and waved to the changeling Twilight Sparkle with a cheery “Hiya, Twilight.”
Oh, no, not him too.
Maybe the changeling language had 50 words for all the different kinds of love there were. If it did, one of them could be how she felt for Spike. Ponish certainly did not. He was something like her little brother, something like her son, something like her best friend. Twilight’s tears seeped into the goo instead of falling down her face.
Before Spike could say a word he was hit with Twilight Sparkle’s flying tackle. She hugged him tightly with her forelegs and wings. “I love you, Spike.”
Spike patted the weeping alicorn’s shoulder, “I love you too, Twilight.”
Between the first and second knock, Discord’s door dissipated into vapor, making Twilight stumble momentarily.
“Come in, come in!” the draconequus called jovially, and once Twilight had crossed the threshold, the door re‐solidified behind her.
“Hello Discord, I —”
“— should have told me you were coming, I would have made appropriate preparations for receiving a head of state.” Discord snapped his fingers and his chair turned into that weird twin‐antlered throne of his, while Twilight suddenly found herself sitting on a tall white and gold throne with pink cushioning.
Twilight’s eyes narrowed into slits at this distinctive manner of interruption. She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I’m not the head of state yet. And what throne even is this?”
“Pish posh, what’s a few moons between friends? And that’s the throne you’ll sit on when you are head of state.”
“I thought that hadn’t been designed yet.”
“It hasn’t. Since you like excessive accuracy, it’s your favorite among the designs you will be presented with. If you want to choose a design that’s not your favorite just to prove that precognition is another thing I can’t do, go ahead.”
Twilight brought a hoof up to rub her temple, “This isn’t going well. I came here to thank you for what you did for Fluttershy.”
“I didn’t do it for anyone’s approval and I don’t need anyone’s gratitude.”
“I know you wish you could do more, but you’ve done more than anyone else in the world could.”
Discord looked to the side, “Maybe, but it’s not enough. She’s the last pony in the world to deserve... that.”
“That doesn’t make you obligated to fix it.”
Discord continued looking to the side, waiting for Twilight to continue. When she didn’t, he said, “Some ponies think I can do anything. If I hang around them too much, I start to think it too. So, it’s good to be reminded now and then of what I can’t. I just wish it was done without hurting someone.”
“That doesn’t seem like enough reason.”
Discord returned his gaze to Twilight, “Reason for what?”
“For holing yourself up like this. You haven’t visited Fluttershy once, since.”
“She needs her space.”
“Discord...”
Discord snarled and leaned forward, “Maybe I need my space!”
“Discord, I know something bigger is upsetting you. Otherwise you wouldn’t be acting like that with her and like this with me.”
“I’ve always been rude to you.”
“Not like this.”
“What, you want a token of appreciation for your visit? Fine, I’ve got a gift for you. You can’t say you came away empty‐handed.”
Discord held out a piece of paper, and Twilight levitated it over. It was a very crude map of southeastern Equestria, drawn in crayon, with a dashed black path leading to a red X.
“What’s this?”
“That shows where Tirek is hiding out.”
Twilight blinked, “I thought you’d want to tackle Tirek personally. What with your history.”
Discord slumped, rested his head on his paw, and let out a long sigh. “I thought I was on the right path, but it turned out I was on the wrong one. And the first thing you do when you see you’re on the wrong path is to stop walking down it, right?”
“That’s incredibly abstract.”
“I don’t want to get into the details. I’m more of a big‐picture guy.” He pointed to the twice‐life‐size framed portrait on the wall, which waved to Twilight when she looked at it.
“You capturing Tirek is a step down the wrong path?”
“No, not capturing Tirek. But after what he did, I don’t trust myself, not this soon...” He trailed off, never completing the thought. After a long pause, he said simply, “It’s better if you handle him.”
“What about Grogar?”
“You don’t have to worry about Grogar.”
“Have you already taken care of Grogar?”
“In a manner of speaking. He’s gone.”
“And... the way you handled Grogar makes you scared of the way you’d take care of Tirek.”
“I’m not going to play Twenty Questions, Twilight.”
“And it’d upset Fluttershy if she knew.”
“Twilight, I’m warning you, drop it, now.”
Twilight nodded, “I don’t know what’s eating you up, and maybe I’ll never know. But if you don’t talk about it with Fluttershy, you’ll regret that more than whatever it is.”
Discord didn’t reply, so she walked to the door, which obligingly turned to mist on her approach. At the doorway, Twilight turned her head to face him a final time, “Thank you, Discord.”
Seeing how badly her wounds were still bleeding, Fluttershy declared “The tourniquet needs to be tighter.”
“Are you sure? If I made it tighter, I think that’d mean...” Applejack trailed off, and just gestured along Fluttershy’s leg.
She knew what Applejack meant, but also knew it’d take hours to get down to where Twilight could teleport. She couldn’t be bleeding like this for that long.
“I’m sure.”
“Maybe it will clot up?”
“It’s torn up too badly. It’ll require surgery.”
“Would it help if I stitched it up?”
Fluttershy gave Rarity a look, and she bit her lip and turned away.
“Maybe if I was gliding down instead of trying to climb, the winds wouldn’t be as bad.”
Fluttershy turned her head to face Rainbow Dash, who ruffled her wings and fidgeted.
“If I put all my energy into it, maybe I could punch through the anti‐teleport ward.”
Now it was Twilight’s turn to get the look, a wordless You can’t really teleport me away safely, can you?
Twilight lowered her head and closed her eyes, an equally wordless No.
Twilight opened her eyes to see her bed’s canopy. She sat up and looked around. At least she managed to avoid alerting Spike this time.
Flash Sentry gawped at the surreal sight of Princess Twilight Sparkle, with bed mane and bloodshot eyes, walking down the dungeon corridor towards him. By the time she reached the cell door, he’d composed himself and gave her a crisp salute, “Good evening, your highness.”
She blinked at him blearily and yawned. She whispered, “Mmm, wasscalled...,” then, like an actress assuming a role, straightened her posture, steeled her gaze, and found her command voice, “Dismissed.”
Flash hesitated. Captain Midnight Moonbow had ordered that no‐one be left alone with the prisoner. But the princess was surely a higher authority. “I’ll be in the dungeon reception when you’re done, highness.”
After he left, Twilight whispered to herself, “I’m not Princess Celestia.” Her hoof was trembling as she raised it to the lock—
“Keep it open, or I’ll be trapped forever!” Cozy Glow called, before flying into the cave.
“Would that be so terrible?” Chrysalis mused.
Tirek chortled, “No, not at all,” letting the hole he’d made in the cave’s shield close up.
Chrysalis looked up at Tirek from where she lay on the snow, vulnerable and helpless, “My magic?”
“It was delicious,” Tirek crowed, before leaping down the mountain.
Chrysalis scrambled, shrieking “No, no, no, no!” as she crawled hopelessly after him—
—crawling off the side of her bed, hitting the floor with a resounding thump.
Finding herself in darkness and covered by a warm blanket, instead of sunlight and cold snow, it took a moment for her to orient herself.
A beam of moonlight entered through a window of shatterproof crystal. Sturdy stone walls. A heavy door, locked from the other side, where she could hear hoofsteps receding, and a little later, hoofsteps approaching, telling her that as always, guards patrolled the hall outside.
Chrysalis got back on her bed and covered her face with the blanket. It was a far more spacious and comfortable cage than the ones she’d put her present captors into when that power had been hers. A remote observer might find that quite considerate, but to Chrysalis it was just another cage, in which she wallowed with no brood, no subjects, and no power. Her only solace was that no‐one was watching as she sobbed herself back to sleep.
