A/N: If you like fanfics written between the hours of 3 and 6 am and edited on less than 2 hours of sleep… you're going to love this. Yes, I procrastinated for far too long. I promised myself that I'd finish the rough draft before I fell asleep. I managed it, but now I have a migrane. Be prepared for it to be edited in the future if I see something abhorrent, but the wait has been long enough.

Arletta materialized in a vacated recess of the Canterlot Gardens, out of the sights of prying eyes. Long, black and lavender hair obscured her right eye, making it difficult to see. The fact that it was pitch black on what appeared to be a new moon didn't help matters (Why couldn't time stay the same in both worlds?). Sympathy for her OC flashed through her head. She needed a hair pin. Using her good eye, she surveyed her surroundings. She was in a small cavity surrounded on three sides by well-trimmed hedges. The fourth side opened up to reveal a well-to-do tree, the home of many nests. Somewhere near, an owl hooted. Nocturnal woodland creatures skittered over the grass. Distant hedge clippers could be heard snipping away even at this time of the night, a sharp contrast to the quiet sounds of night. The smell of freshly trimmed plant wafted over the Garden.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a rising wave of anxiety at her current predicament. Only now, after the fact, did she panic. She laughed a short, humorless laugh. In her room, it had all seemed so absurd; this couldn't possibly be happening, could it?

It could.

She had been so surreal and detached that the only emotion to stir was incredulity. Unfortunately, in the heat of the moment, she hadn't thought anything through, and now she was paying the price.

Gods damn it! She hadn't even considered what the implications were! Yes, Arletta, just go along with everything and don't spare any thought— at all— for the friends, family, and life you left behind. She stomped a hoof on the ground and paced in desperation. Walking was slow and awkward at first, but she quickly got the hang of it. Why had he picked her? What had she done to deserve this? It was so unfair! He had forced her— yes, he as good as admitted it himself—to abandon her entire life for his selfish gain! And she had let him!

"AUGH! Why am I such an idiot!" She moaned out loud. 'Blinded by his promises,' she thought. Hoofsteps scuffed the grass, this time not hers. An old gardener intruded to where she paced, alerted by her verbal self-abuse.

"Excuse me, miss?" he ventured.

"What is it?" she snapped, ready to take her anger out on anyone.

Undeterred by the mare's hostile attitude (as he was most likely faced with similar attitudes every day), the elderly stallion continued to recite a droll order to exit the Gardens at the proper time. He didn't seem too concerned about whether she followed his orders, however, and left her to her thoughts and demons. Arletta didn't see too much point in hanging around either, except maybe to give Discord a good kick for all he'd done. Assuming she could find his statue.

Fifteen minutes later, she was thrown out of the Gardens due to the gods damned visitor hours. Evidently the guards didn't show as much leniency as the gardener. To be honest, she was surprised she had navigated the gardens so quickly. It was unfortunate they had thrown her out before she could deliver the devil a proper kick, but what can you do. At least she had learned what time it was: 4:00am. Discord had been prudent enough to attach a pouch of bits to her impressively long mane. She could try to find the train station and pay for a ticket to Ponyville. Or, if she took an excessively long time to arrive there, she'd stop by a shop and pick up a hairpin or two. The grey mare spared a haughty glare at the guards who had thrown her out before attempting to get to the station.

Her mind wandered while she walked, oblivious to drunken calls out of alleys, untraceable whistles that seemed to follow her wherever she went, and the occasional gentleponies on their way home from high-class parties. No, there were much more important things to focus on. Such as The Plan. Yes, though Discord had blatantly and egregiously used her, she had little choice on whether she would assist him. He had the key to her life. End of story. Feelings of homesickness and guilt suddenly, unbiddenly, threatened to overwhelm her. Even if her friends, her family, her home, her art, her works, her entire life, had all been just a figment of Discord's imagination, they meant so much more to her. She missed them. So much.

Arletta's heart wrenched as she thought of her mother. In summer camp, as long as she kept herself occupied, there was no homesickness. Now it was different. Now, knowing Discord's manipulative nature and uncertain of how long it might take to free him, it was worse. She had hardly protested, and quickly backed down, as he took away her certainty, her universe, everything she loved. And she was scared to death.

At summer camp, you knew you were coming home.

"What train?" asked the bleary-eyed colt at the desk. He rubbed the sleep from his azure eyes with turquoise hooves.

"The one leaving at 6 o'clock," she said, meekly, her anger from before dissipated.

"Hmm hmm. Where to?"

"Ponyville."

"Ten bits."

Arletta counted out ten from the pouch and handed them over. He handed her a ticket with a noncommittal grunt just as her train pulled into the station. Not bothering to say thank you, she hurried through the small building and outside to the stop. She and ten other passengers boarded the train. Why they even bothered running trains at this hour, she had no idea.

She was really going to think about The Plan this time, not like she had last time. There would be no excursions into self-pity.

Previous shows pretty much told her how to free Discord:

1) Weaken or destroy the Elements of Harmony that had first subdued him

2) Cause chaos near his statue

3) Keep the Elements incapacitated

Which was much easier said than done. At least she had the shows to show her each character's weakness But to actually go into their world and physically manipulate things… 'Well, you'd better be up to it if you want your life back.' Right. No choice. So baby steps.

First, she'd have to get a residence in Ponyville or arrange an extra-long hotel visit. Did they even have a hotel? She hoped so. As for second on the bare necessities list, well… get food and survive.

Next came the hard part. Who would she talk to first? She immediately snorted at that question's stupidity, causing a nearby passenger jolt out of his slumber, blinking and searching around nervously. Pinkie Pie, obviously. Good thing, too. Pinkie was the glue that held the group together. Arletta probably wouldn't have to work at all to talk to her. But she should be standoffish. That would drive Pinkie mad, not being able to make a friend with someone no matter how hard she tried…

By the time the train had arrived in Ponyville, she had made little further progress on The Plan. There were no conceivable ways to get close to the mane six if she rejected Pinkie.

Oh, speak of the devil.

Out in the early (yes, 8 is early) hours of the morning, Pinkie stood at the station, ready to receive visitors. She had her nose and mustache glasses on, face emotionless as if she had been in the army, answering to a sergeant. This was her sworn duty, and by Princess Celestia's last good horseshoe, she would. Not. Fail.

And oh for the love of her made-up gods, she was staring right at Arletta!

Arletta did everything she could to prolong the time before she had to talk to Pinkie. Politely, she allowed the other passengers to leave first, helping some with their luggage. Pinkie just said "Hi, I'm Pinkie!", "Welcome to Ponyville!", or "I hope you had a nice journey!", occasionally breaking into song but never abandoning her post. No, Arletta was singled out. Grrrrreat.

There was no escape. She accepted her fate. Just act natural. If she would have to get close to the mane six anyway, it would be a whole lot more work to act as another person the entire time. Unfortunately, the person she happened to be was also someone who was conspiring against them. Perfect plan. Unfortunately, it was the only one she had. Maybe she could break Pinkie be being utterly antipathetic.

As soon as Arletta exited the car, she was assaulted by a barrage of words.

"Hi, I'm Pinkie Pie! But you can call me Pinkie. Who are you? What brings you to Ponyville? How long are you gonna stay? When I saw you sitting in that car, I just had to meet you. You looked so lonely by yourself! And then you helped the other people with their luggage and I knew we were destined to be best friends FOREVER!"

Arletta blinked for a moment, soaking in all the questions and everything said. Oh, gods. She wasn't good under pressure. It was hard to keep up with Pinkie's speech, especially when she went faster. She shifted from one hoof to the other, eyes refusing to meet the blue orbs of the ecstatic pink pony in front of her. "Erm… Hello, I'm Arletta. I'm staying in Ponyville for an indefinite period of time."

"Arletta…" Pinkie entered into one of her rare moments of thoughtfulness. It was quickly over, as expected, chased away by a gasp. "Youknowwhatyouknowwhatyouknowwhat? Can I call you Arlie?! Or Arles?!

"Either one is fine. I've never had a nickname before."

"You HAVEN'T?! You poor poor thing! Your childhood must have been scarring! No nickname, I ask you! Well, Arlie, I shall soon teach you the wonders of balloon flying, the majesty of ice skating, the prestige of being the town clown!"

"I… might like that. Um… listen, do you know where the nearest inn is?"

"Of course! Just a block over and turn left. Horseshoe House, you can't miss it!"

"Thank you, Pinkie. I'd like to chat more, but I've got to go now."

"Of course! I'll see you around!" With that, Pinkie serenaded Arletta with her song about smiling while she headed for the inn.

Oh look, world, she had just flushed her plan down the drain. Well, maybe it was for the best. She hadn't been able to think of any further proceeds with it. Emitting a suspiration, Arletta entered the inn and promised herself that she would think about it.

'…Later'