Upon learning of Quigley’s existence, the princesses’ father had came to two conclusions: first, that Celestia had uncovered some heretofore unknown or forgotten form of magic, and second, that the draconequus’ true origins needed to be kept secret, in case there were military applications for whatever magic led to his first manifestation. Thus, he now spent most of his time in the form of a unicorn stallion with a russet coat and a grizzled silver mane and beard and a cutie mark consisting of a sealed scroll. As “Quigley” was a rather odd name for a pony, he selected the somewhat more equine-sounding “Discord” for his public persona.

Naturally, with this new name came a cover story, as the fact that the princesses were spending a lot of time with a strange, middle-aged stallion was unlikely to stay within the palace’s confines. Thus, “Discord” was said to be a scholar whom the two alicorns had appointed to assist them in the research of arcane and obscure branches of magic. Not only would this explain why he was so often found in their company, it also provided some cover for his occasional violations of common sense and reason.

“Then, I made the arrogant blowhard’s mug disappear, but I left the handle and the drink in place, so he didn’t know what happened until he raised his drink and got a faceful of cider!”

Celestia giggled as she listened to Quigley’s account of his recent adventure in the nearest tavern. “It sounds as though this Blatherskite fellow needed to have his ego deflated. I trust he did not take well to his newfound dampness?”

The draconequus, who was currently floating around the Royal Library in his preferred chimeral form, snickered. “I did much more than that—when the cider hit his face, I transformed it into apple jelly. I tell you, he’s going to have quite the ordeal getting that stuff out of his immaculately coiffed mane.”

“That’s all well and good,” Luna said, “but how did you explain it to the other ponies?” Her face had a neutral expression, though her tone of voice indicated a mild level of concern.

“Oh, I just made something up about liquid viscosity. I’m not even sure if the only pony who asked me could hear my answer over the laughter. Anyway, the more genial patrons asked me for an encore, but it was getting late, so I excused myself and came back here for some well-earned sleep.”

“They brushed aside strange magic so quickly?”

“Oh, it’s not all that strange, my dear Luna,” Quigley said. “I’m pretty sure there’s a spell like that one somewhere on these shelves. As to their acceptance, do keep in mind that most of them were deep into their cups by the time the incident happened. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if half of them forgot it the next morning—though if you like, I can make sure of it. I’ll even fix the ones who didn’t forget it, free of charge.”

“Er... no, that shall not be necessary, Quigley,” Luna said. Although her sister had ended her sentence with a smile, Celestia could not help but think that it was covering up some sort of worry. Perhaps this was due to the ever-so-subtle twitch in the corner of her sister’s mouth, or perhaps she was simply imagining things.

In any case, it hardly seemed worthwhile to make a fuss over the matter. There were far too many things that needed to be done to devote any amount of time to introspection; in addition to her daily sun-raisings, the meetings with dignitaries, and the balls, galas, and other assorted ceremonies, she wanted to spend as much time with Quigley as—

Celestia’s train of thought was interrupted as a series of knocks sounded from the library doors.

There was a bit of scuffling around as Quigley returned to his “Discord” form, but soon enough Luna called out, “Enter.”

It was the Royal Chamberlain, a wizened green unicorn stallion with a short black mane. “Princess Celestia? Princess Luna? Your father wishes to speak with you.”

Twilight Sparkle had seen hundreds of Celestia’s sunrises in her lifetime, but she couldn’t help but think that this morning’s dawn was especially impressive, with its band of orange breaking around Mt. Canterlot, contrasting sharply with the sapphire blue of the pre-dawn sky before the glorious orb crept into view, while in an equally impressive touch, the brightest stars in the night sky had lingered for nearly twenty minutes longer than normal, which could only mean that Celestia had coordinated this display with Luna.

The sight from Twilight’s guestroom balcony filled the purple mare with both gratitude and humility, because she knew that she was one of the reasons that the Royal Sisters had put so much effort into what would have otherwise been an everyday occurrence. After weeks of planning, the big day had finally arrived; by sunset, the ceremony would be over and she and Pinkie Pie would officially be Princesses of Equestria. Understandably, she hadn’t gotten much sleep the previous night, so she’d resorted to some light reading in order to take her mind off of the upcoming event (which in this instance consisted of an unabridged copy of Wintermute’s classic Advanced Neuromancy).

She was in the midst of a chapter on the effective use of ethereal matrices when her concentration was interrupted by an familiar, euphonious voice: “Sunshine, sunshine, ladybugs awake...”

Twilight Sparkle grinned broadly as she heard the rhyme. That grin became even wider when she turned around and saw her former foalsitter and current sister-in-law Cadance standing in the doorway. “Clap your hooves and do a little shake!” Twilight replied as she leapt to her hooves and rushed over to embrace her friend in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you could be here!”

“Well, it’s not every day that Equestria adds princesses to its ranks,” Cadance said as she walked into the room and sat on Twilight’s hardly-used bed. “I’m only sorry that I couldn’t arrive in time for yesterday’s rehearsal. I didn’t expect that Shining Armor’s inspection of the Royal Guard would last so long.”

Twilight had no problem accepting this explanation. “It’s not like it’s a particularly complicated ceremony, especially for somepony who isn’t making any speeches. Besides, you aren’t the only one who wasn’t there. Spike’s still back in Ponyville, after all.”

Cadance, however, looked rather concerned. “He isn’t sick, is he?”

“What? Oh, no. It’s just that somebody needs to stay there to keep an eye on Discord, and he can get in touch with us really quickly by sending a letter to Celestia if anything goes wrong. That, and Rarity insists that if even one of the Elements of Harmony doesn’t make an appearance, the tabloids will start manufacturing all sorts of nasty scandals.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. I’m sure he’d do anything to be here.”

At this, Twilight began shifting her weight awkwardly. “Uh... well, to his credit, Spike did make a show of wanting to be here for Pinkie and me—you know, because I’m his best friend and Pinkie Pie is his ‘twin sister’ and we’re both really important to him—but it was also kind of obvious that he wasn’t looking forward to standing around for several hours listening to speeches and watching choreographed rituals. Applejack said he could borrow her family’s radio so he and Discord could listen to the broadcast, though, so he was able to save face and keep to his personal code of honor.”

Cadance smiled warmly; it wasn’t all that long ago that Twilight would have had a similar reaction to attending a public function. “Well, I’m sure the rest of your friends are excited.”

“You bet they are!” Twilight said gleefully. “Even Penumbra... though she doesn’t normally express excitement the way most ponies do.”

“Penumbra? Oh, right. The Duchess of Everfree. She’s here as well?”

“Well, yeah. After all, if it wasn’t for her, Pinkie and I would never have ascended in the first place. Granted, if she wasn’t evil at the time, we wouldn’t have needed to ascend, but we try not to dwell on her past.”

“She sounds rather... interesting.”

Twilight’s eyes widened as she realized what Cadance was hinting at. “Oh... that’s right, you haven’t had the chance to meet her yet, have you?”

“I had a brief introduction when she was invested with her title, but Shining Armor and I had to leave soon after that ceremony ended.”

“Well, we can fix that,” Twilight said, strolling out of her room and down the hall. “Come on, she’s usually up early anyway.”

If there was one thing that The Great and Powerful Trixie had learned from her time with the Diamond Dogs, it was that there were few places in Equestria that couldn’t be accessed from underground (with the overwhelming majority of the exceptions being pegasus cities like Cloudsdale). Apparently, nearly every cave was connected through a series of underground tunnels, though how many of these were natural and how many were the efforts of miners and Diamond Dogs in the past was impossible to say. None of that mattered to The Great and Powerful Trixie, as she was more interested in the beautiful crystalline caverns within Mt. Canterlot. Trixie had heard of them before; they’d been mentioned once or twice in newspaper reports of the previous year’s Changeling invasion, but she’d never imagined that they’d look so impressive, especially since they were the result of uncontrolled natural forces. Why, with a little extra magic, she could easily imagine how this place could be made orderly enough for a civilized pony to inhabit.

However, she was not there as a tourist; this was to be the staging ground for the night’s offensive, which was why the Diamond Dogs had gathered their entire Pack (numbering an impressive 256 when all were accounted for) to hear her instructions. “Now, due to our ally’s inherently chaotic nature, we are sadly unable to indulge in the luxury of a precisely-timed offensive. Still, Discord should be far enough away from Canterlot to prevent any unexpected disruptions from his... improvisations,” she mused as she paced in front of large, glowing portrait of herself that she’d conjured up to improve the cavern’s ambience. “After all, he wouldn’t want to risk facing all the Elements of Harmony unless he absolutely had to. He may be stark raving mad, but he isn’t an idiot.”

“But your Greatness,” Rover said nervously, “what if Discord does not act at all tonight?”

Trixie briefly clenched her teeth as the unwelcome scenario entered her mind, but she soon dismissed it. “Then he will learn the consequences of toying with the Great and Powerful Trixie.”

“But will you not be in danger if the ponies do not have to deal with Discord?”

“Oh, most certainly, but The Great and Powerful Trixie has taken precautions to make sure that they will have to deal with more than just Discord and herself.”

Rover started wringing his paws and looking around apprehensively. “Ah, I see. Will your Greatness need the Pack to, er, help you?”

The unicorn sighed. “No, you won’t have to fight anypony. Provided that you follow the directions you have been given precisely, there should be no reason why you would need to do anything beyond returning spoils to The Great and Powerful Trixie’s headquarters. I trust the Diamond Dogs are up to that little task?”

Rover nodded quickly. “Yes, yes, the Pack can do this for Trixie.”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie.”

The Diamond Dog nodded sycophantically; he did not argue with the correction, but continued: “I shall inform the others that the plan will proceed, yes?”

For a split-second, The Great and Powerful Trixie’s lips seemed ready to curl into a smile, but they ultimately retained their neutral expression. “Please do. We commence at sundown.”

“This is cruel and unusual punishment!”

Spike rolled his eyes as he twiddled the knobs on the Apple family’s radio. It had taken all morning to get it set up, partly because it was so large that moving it from the farmhouse to Discord’s barn took several hours, partly because it took a few more hours to find a generator to power it, but mostly because the draconequus had absolutely refused to provide him with any help whatsoever. “It’s not that bad,” he said.

“Not that bad? Not only am I being subjected to the degradation of being babysat by a ten-year-old, but he’s making me listen to one of the most colossally boring events in Equestrian history.”

“Actually, I’m only nine,” Spike replied. “And I’m not babysitting you, I’m just watching you.”

“Details,” Discord said dismissively as he flopped onto a bale of hay and sulked. “I don’t know why I shouldn’t just get up and leave right now.”

“Because I’d squeal on you in about two seconds?” Spike replied as he finally found a frequency with relatively good reception. “There we go. Time to settle in for a... um... interest— uh, no, make that an educational afternoon.”

“Hmph,” Discord snorted as he began tossing explosive pickles at a dartboard with Spike’s face on it. “You don’t even want to listen to it either.”

“I do so!” the dragon retorted. “I mean, sure, it probably won’t be fun, but this is important to Twilight and Pinkie Pie, and they’re important to me. I gave them my word, and the Noble Dragon Code says I should do whatever I can to keep my promise.”

Discord raised one of his eyebrows in bemusement. “You just ripped off that Pinkie Promise idea for that, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t rip it off. I was inspired by it. Plus, she gave me permission to do it, so it doesn’t matter if it wasn’t my idea. Besides, she’s family.”

“You’re still insisting that she’s your twin sister?”

“Yes,” Spike said defiantly, and he refused to provide any further justification.

Fortunately, any further discussion was interrupted by a series of rapid knocks on the barn’s door. “Hey,” came Apple Bloom’s voice from the other side, “y’all mind if we come in?”

Spike glanced over at Discord, who gave a limp-wristed wave of indifference. The dragon then walked over to the door and swung it open to reveal the Cutie Mark Crusaders. “Hi, there! Do you need something?”

Apple Bloom stared at the ground and replied, “Um, well...”

Scootaloo, however, quickly tired of this dithering. “We wanna listen to the broadcast with you.”

“Really?” Spike asked in surprise. “Did Cheerilee give you an assignment or something?”

“No,” Sweetie Belle said before either of her friends could answer. “We just want to listen because Twilight and Pinkie are our friends.”

“Oh!” Spike said. “You hear that, Discord? It’s perfectly normal to do boring things for your friends.”

Discord looked rather skeptical. “Are you three sure it’s not because all the pomp and ceremony activates the pleasure centers in the girliest parts of your brains?”

“Uh, no, don’t be silly!” the unicorn filly replied, her voice wavering slightly. “We’re just doing our duty as friends, that’s all.”

The draconequus sighed. “Oh, well. At least you three are genuinely interesting. Might as well make the best of the situation. Who wants snacks?”

Spike looked a little concerned at Discord’s sudden acceptance of the situation. “Uh, I’m not sure—”

But the fillies had already rushed towards a massive pile of rock candy that had appeared on the floor and started digging in. Spike looked away from the trio and back at Discord. “If that stuff does anything to them...”

“...you’ll tell Celestia, which is precisely why they’ll be perfectly fine. Now, how about you?”

“No thanks,” Spike said. “I prefer actual gems to the sugary kind.”

“Oh? Well, then how about some ice cream, then?” Discord said, producing a cone. “It’s strawberry...”

Spike was clearly interested in the proffered treat, but still seemed reluctant to trust the draconequus. “I don’t know...”

“With sapphire sprinkles...”

Spike looked longingly at the creamy pink ball as it was dusted with glittering blue gems. “Okay... maybe just one.”

Discord smiled as he handed the ice cream cone to Spike. “If you want more, just ask,” he said as his eyes narrowed mischeviously. “There’s plenty to go around.”

Twilight Sparkle had every intention of searing each moment of the coronation into her memory from the moment she arrived at the amphitheater where the ceremony took place, and to her brain’s credit, her plan seemed to be working at first. She distinctly remembered the polite reaction to Penumbra’s entrance (tempered, no doubt, by the surprise of the many ponies who were apparently still unaware that there even was a Duchess of Everfree), the much more enthusiastic response to Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, and Fluttershy, and the extended greeting given to Celestia, Luna, and Cadance. She even remembered most of Penumbra’s oration—Celestia had insisted that Penny make the speech so that she could be more firmly established as a public figure, as opposed to an insular noble who spent all her time at her cloud-forge. This turned out to be an inspired decision, as Penumbra had retained most of the Nightmare’s flair for the dramatic, which was only enhanced by the fact that she’d shapeshifted into the svelte Royal form, complete with a nonfunctional horn. This in turn meant that her speech about Twilight and Pinkie’s virtues ended up being one of the day’s highlights.

However, the moment that Twilight Sparkle stepped into the amphitheater with Pinkie Pie and began walking up the center aisle to where the three Princesses stood, the thunderous ovation of several thousand ponies seemed to cause time itself to blur. Like Penumbra, the two of them had shapeshifted into lithe alicorns, complete with the appropriate decorative appendages, though at that moment Twilight wouldn’t have been surprised if she spontaneously developed the ability to fly, or to at least float on top of the adulation of the crowd.

Twilight wasn’t certain how long it took them to reach the stage; it somehow felt like forever and an instant at the same time. Yet eventually, the pair reached Celestia, Luna, and Cadance, and knelt in respect before turning around to face the onlookers. Twilight didn’t really pay attention to the brief remarks Celestia gave; the language was completely ceremonial in nature, and she’d already read it over countless times in the past few weeks.

Then the crowns floated down from the sky, guided by Celestia’s magic. Twilight’s tiara, not surprisingly, was the Element of Magic, whereas Pinkie’s was a more standard crown, mostly because she thought the Element of Laughter looked cuter in its necklace. A hush fell over the crowd as the symbols of authority were gently placed on the alicorns’ heads. Celestia then bade the pair to rise to their hooves and, using the Royal Canterlot Voice at its maximum volume, proclaimed, “Behold Twilight Sparkle, Princess of the Mind! Behold Pinkie Pie, Princess of the Spirit!”

Immediately after the crowning, Princess Twilight Sparkle and Princess Pinkie Pie, followed closely by Celestia, Luna, Cadance, and (of course) their closest friends, exited the amphitheater and climbed into chariots for a grand procession through Canterlot as their subjects filled the streets to catch a glimpse of the new Royals. Streamers, confetti, marching bands—all were present, but more than anything Twilight noticed the cheering. Several times Pinkie leaned over and mentioned something in her typically ecstatic tone of voice, but Twilight was too distracted to actually listen; instead she simply smiled and nodded at her friend before returning to the task of waving to the crowd.

When the procession finally reached the Royal Palace, Twilight Sparkle had an hour or so to pause and reflect. As she watched the sun approach the horizon from the balcony of her guest room—though, technically speaking, she was no longer a guest—she couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of contentment. All of the repeated insecurities and self-doubt that she’d felt in the past had gone, leaving nothing but the opportunities of the future in front of her. So far, today had easily been the best day of her life, and with Pinkie Pie’s afterparty to look forward to, there was no reason to think that the night would be any different.

“Way to go, Twilight!” Spike shouted joyfully at the radio as though his friends could hear him on the other side, though in truth, a good chunk of that joy stemmed from the fact that three of the most excruciatingly dull hours of his life were finally behind him, though he wasn’t about to admit that to anyone. He glanced over at the Cutie Mark Crusaders, who must have been on their sixth serving of rock candy, and idly wondered if they’d even paid any attention to the broadcast—not that it mattered too much. After all, they weren’t dragons, and were therefore under no obligation to follow the Noble Dragon Code. Discord, meanwhile, looked surprisingly content, especially considering how loudly he’d been complaining before the coronation began. “What are you so happy about?” he asked the draconequus suspiciously.

“Five,” Discord responded.

“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Discord ignored this question and idly cracked his knuckles. “Four.”

“Ugh...” Scootaloo moaned. “I’m feeling kind of stiff.”

The curls at the ends of the draconequus’ devilish smile became more pronounced. “Three.”

“Yeah, me too,” Apple Bloom said. “Hey... is it just me, or are you girls lookin’ kinda grey?”

“Two.” Discord sounded like he was barely managing to stifle a chuckle.

“Not just us,” Sweetie Belle said. “You too!” She tried to illustrate by pointing a hoof towards Apple Bloom. “Huh? I can’t move my legs!”

“Me neither!” Scootaloo said.

“One,” Discord continued, his voice now filled with unmistakable glee.

The Crusaders were clearly panicking now, even though they were barely moving anymore. “Spike,” Apple Bloom managed to force out of her rapidly stiffening mouth, “hel—”

“Zero,” Discord finished. “That went much better than I expected, actually.”

“What did you do to them?!” Spike shouted.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Discord asked, scratching his head in confusion. He looked at his handiwork again for a few seconds before a glowing lightbulb materialized over his head. “Ah! I know what the problem is.” He snapped his talons, and a polished granite plinth rose up beneath the three stone fillies. “There we go. Now it’s art.”

Spike still couldn’t quite comprehend what had just happened. “But... but why?”

Discord began pacing around the Crusaders as he answered, “Well, as I’ve said before, I’m somewhat indebted to these three for breaking me out of my stone prison the first time around, so I’ve decided to bestow a little gift on them.”

“Gift? But you were put in a statue as a punishment!”

“True, but as a magically reinforced statue, I was quite safe from harm during my imprisonment, and I really don’t want anything to happen these little darlings in the next few days. Besides, from what I understand, they’ve got quite a knack for causing chaos; I’m seriously considering taking them under my wing once everything’s settled down. In fact, I think they’d make for adorable little draconequui, don’t you?”

“Huh?” Spike asked, his face contorting in confusion. “The next few days? Settling down? Draconequui?”

Discord sighed. “Oh, for crying out loud, will you please just put two and two together already? I’m not even being particularly subtle about it.”

Spike, however, was still sputtering as he tried to process what was going on. “But... what... how...” Eventually he gave up his attempt to will an answer into his head and made a demand instead. “Discord, change them back right now!”

“Why should I?” Discord asked as he leaned against Sweetie Belle’s form.

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to tell Celestia what you’ve been up to.”

“Oh, no,” Discord replied in a high-pitched, melodramatic voice. “Spike is threatening to tattle on me. Whatever shall I do?”

Spike, however, was not in the mood to listen to sarcasm. He whipped out a blank notecard from his Noble Dragon Code, hastily scrawled a message onto it, took a deep breath, and exhaled a jet of green flame—at least, that was what was supposed to happen. “My fire!” the dragon called out. “Where’s my fire?!”

“I don’t know,” Discord replied as he casually inspected his claws. “Where was the last place you left it?”

“You did something, didn’t you?! My fire was just fine before the coronation. I know, because I sent Celestia a message then, too, right before you started handing out snacks...” Spike’s eyes widened. “The ice cream!”

Discord grinned maliciously. “Well, young Spike, it appears that you’ve learned a very important lesson today: You should never accept food from strangers, and there’s nobody who’s stranger than me. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he added as he began hovering above the floor, “the Equestrian countryside has been looking distressingly rational lately, and I need to spruce it up a bit. Ta-ta!” Discord then zipped out of an open window of the barn, leaving Spike absolutely dumbstruck.

Fortunately, he soon came to his senses. Turning towards the three statues, he said, “Uh, you three hang on, okay? I’m going to get some help.” With that, Spike flung open the barn door and ran as fast as he could towards the Apple farmhouse.

Granny Smith was hard at work developing a new recipe for the Zap Apples that were left over at the end of jam-making season (Zap Applesauce) when Spike burst into the kitchen, nearly knocking the door off of its hinges. As the baby dragon bent over, clutching his side as he gasped for breath, the old mare asked the obvious question: “Landsakes, sonny, what in tarnation’s got you up in a tizzy?”

“Fillies... statue... Discord... ice cream... fire... gone... help!”

“Say whut?”

“Ice cream fire gone help!” Spike repeated as loudly as he could. “Discord!”

Granny Smith looked at the baby dragon with no small amount of concern. If that creature taking up residence in the spare barn was involved in whatever had Spike in a panic, odds were good that there was a serious problem. However, panic rarely helped in solving problems, and she’d been around long enough to learn that particular lesson several dozen times over. “All right, sonny. Now, you just sit down, take some deep breaths, an’ tell me what’s goin’ on.”

Although all of his instincts were screaming that there wasn’t any time for such pointless activities as “calming down,” Spike nodded and complied with the old mare’s instructions. Soon, he was able to form complete sentences once again, and recounted what had just happened in the barn.

Considering that she had just learned that her granddaughter had been turned into solid rock, Granny Smith was surprisingly calm. “Hmm... that is a pickle, ain’t it? An’ you can’t tell the Princess about all this without that fire of yours?”

“No, and I have no idea how to get it back!” the dragon cried out in despair.

Granny Smith gave Spike her most comforting, matronly smile. “Well, I may not know a lot about dragons, but I doubt it’ll need to be much—just enough to get your pilot lit again, that’s all. Nuthin’ that can’t be solved with a well-stocked kitchen.” She brought a hoof to her chin as she considered the contents of her pantry. “Lemme see here... there is that old bottle of Atomic Fireball’s Quadruple Strength Cinnamon Extract. Been meanin’ ta finish that off for a while now. Still oughta be enough left in there to kick-start your breath.”

Spike didn’t seem convinced. “Is cinnamon really that spicy?”

The old green mare shook her head. “Not if it’s the regular kind, it ain’t. But Fireball’s Extract has a few... extra ingredients.” She pulled a small, nearly-empty bottle from her cupboard, uncorked it, and set it on the table in front of the baby dragon. “Bottoms up,” she said with a smile.

Spike swirled the reddish-brown liquid in the glass bottle a few times, sniffed it, and then, steeling his courage, quaffed the cinnamon extract in a single gulp.

Three seconds later, the Apple family’s kitchen table had been reduced to ash. “Wow...” Spike wheezed in an unusually raspy voice as dull grey smoke continued to seep out of the corners of his mouth. “That stuff’s effective.” He coughed again, igniting what was left of Granny Smith’s tablecloth. “Uh... I can pay for that. Maybe.”

“Never you mind about the table, sonny,” Granny Smith said. “After all, ain’t you got business to be attendin’ to?”

Spike’s eyes widened as he remembered why he’d burst into the kitchen in the first place. “Oh, right! Sorry to rush out on you, Granny Smith, but I need to send a letter!”

Pinkie’s afterparty was in full swing by the time Luna returned from raising the moon, and the Princess of the Night was pleasantly surprised at what she saw as she looked around the palace’s great hall. Her sneaking suspicion that Penumbra had been tagged to provide the decorations simply to give her work more exposure had turned out to be overly cynical; while it was true that the large sculptures of Princesses Twilight and Pinkie certainly demonstrated her artistic skill, the smaller clouds that emitted steady streams of light mist really seemed to enhance the atmosphere, though it did obscure the view of the recently-installed stained-glass window featuring the ascent of Twilight, Pinkie, and (as far as the average pony knew) Penumbra. Then again, given how much Penumbra disliked explaining why she’d declined to be crowned, this somewhat excessive mist may have been completely intentional on her part.

Surprisingly, many of the more traditionally-minded socialites and hobnobbers no longer seemed to mind the synthesized beats pounding out of the DJ’s speaker system. Of course, the rather large supply of hard cider and applejack from Sweet Apple Acres may have assisted in this acceptance as well, as evidenced by the fact that Rarity was the only pony sporting an uncomfortably fake smile in response to the near-constant glitter-bombings of haute couture fashion.

Luna didn’t have much trouble finding the hostess in the mist, as Princess Pinkie Pie was busy distributing a seemingly infinite supply of glowsticks—and considering that Pinkie might have decided to use her imaginary friend abilities to enhance this particular shindig, there was a reasonably good chance that her supply was infinite. To Luna’s surprise, the pink shapeshifter, unlike Twilight Sparkle and Penumbra, had yet to shed her nonfunctional wings and horn, though whether this was due to absent-mindedness or a really bizarre notion of propriety was unclear. At least it seemed that she’d gotten over her disappointment at having her initial idea to take the title of “Princess of Super Happy Fun Time” shot down. “Your party seems to be going well!” she shouted to Pinkie over the din of the music’s low, thundering bassline.

“Thanks!” Pinkie said with a grin. “Have a necklace!” she added, tossing a glowing plastic ring onto Luna’s horn.

“Er, thank you, Pinkie,” Luna replied as she pulled the party favor over her head before wandering off to find some other, equally uncomfortable ponies to talk to. It didn’t take very long.

“Greetings, Duchess,” Luna said as she found her former Nightmare sitting in a relatively quiet corner of the room, making small talk with Princess Cadance and Shining Armor.

Penumbra rolled her eyes. “I recognize your right to address me by my title, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying.”

Hearing Penumbra take this tone of voice with somepony she claimed as a friend seemed to cause a mild shock for the couple, especially Cadance, whose mouth was silently agape as she tried to process what she’d heard. Fortunately, the friendship between cloudsmith and royal was such that Luna was well aware of Penumbra’s tendency to exaggerate her own grumpiness. “When this many stiff-necked aristocrats are in the same room, one can never count on all of them being intoxicated enough to ignore propriety. But enough talk of mundane inconveniences. What are your plans once Pinkie moves into her new residence?”

“I’ll be moving in with her, of course. I am still under ‘house arrest’ for my previous attempts at regicide, after all. Where Pinkie’s head goes, so do I.”

“You know, I’ve been wondering about that,” Cadance said, regaining her ability to converse. “How exactly does that work?”

“It works quite well,” Penumbra replied before taking a sip of cider.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure that’s not what she meant,” Shining Armor replied awkwardly as he glanced at his wife, who seemed rather bemused by the Duchess’ attitude.

“Oh, I’m well aware of that, Captain,” Penumbra answered, “but it really is the best explanation I can give. Beings such as Pinkie and I don’t always have to follow the same rules as everypony else. I suppose you can say that it’s possible because I need it to be possible. There needs to be some way to reassure ponies who might find out about my past that I pose no threat to them, and giving Pinkie the ability to both house and, if necessary, imprison me in her mind accomplishes that quite nicely.”

“But how does needing something to be possible make it, well, possible?” Shining Armor asked as he scratched the side of his head.

Penumbra tilted her head indifferently. “I suppose,” she continued in a more hushed voice, “that this is what Pinkie Pie would call ‘an imaginary friend thing,’ though that term is somewhat ironic in this context.”

Shining Armor seemed ready to reply, but he was interrupted by one of his lieutenants, who handed him a hastily-scribbled note in what Luna recognized as Celestia’s script. The couple quickly excused themselves and walked off in the eldest Princess’ direction, leaving the two remaining ponies to continue the conversation.

Luna knew exactly why Penumbra had spoken of irony; the pegasus had never been both imaginary and her friend at the same time. Still, despite the fact that eavesdropping seemed almost impossible in the din of the party, Luna looked a bit concerned. “I’d be wary of talking about your past misdeeds so openly among Canterlot’s high society. They’re a bit more judgmental than most of your friends.”

Penumbra didn’t seem to find this convincing. “You talk about your past all the time.”

“That’s true, but most ponies put all the blame for my past on you.”

“Well, I say you’re being overly cautious. The chance that my past as the Nightmare will have any relevance tonight is almost negligible.”

Luna was about to respond, but she was distracted when the music suddenly cut out as Celestia climbed onto the stage. The tall, white alicorn looked every bit as regal and dignified as she had during the ceremony mere hours ago, but the glow of pride had faded from her face, which now bore an expression of grave concern as she raised a hoof to hush the few ponies who had continued conversing after the music had faded away.

“Fillies and gentlecolts,” Celestia began in a somber tone, “as delightful as Princess Pinkie’s gala has been, I must unfortunately bring it to an early close. A grave situation has arisen which will require the full attention of Princesses Twilight Sparkle and Pinkie Pie, as well as that of the other Element-Bearers.” The Sun Princess paused briefly to collect her thoughts before continuing: “The creature Discord, who until recently had been undergoing rehabilitation in Ponyville, has gone rogue.” An audible gasp came from Celestia’s audience, which conveniently masked the uncharacteristic crack in her voice which intruded on the final word of her sentence. “The Royal Guard has been called into active service, and they have begun setting up their defenses to protect the inhabitants of this city.”

Luna nodded somberly at her sister’s words; Celestia had always had a knack for giving her subjects just enough information to reassure them that she was on top of a crisis. Indeed, it was probably one of the main reasons she had been the more popular of the two in years past. Still, Celestia was far from the only pony with a personal interest in Discord’s actions. Luna glanced over at Penumbra, and saw that her mouth was still frozen in her customary neutral frown. Her eyes, however, were a different matter altogether; there was none of the usual steely aloofness present. Instead, there was a watery shimmer that suggested nothing less than crushing disappointment. Penumbra’s nostrils flared as she began taking unusually deep breaths, as if she was attempting to force herself to keep calm.

“However,” Celestia continued, “if the Bearers hurry, they should be able to use the Elements to keep the havoc to a minimum—”

“That particular ‘if’ may be significantly more onerous than you think,” interrupted a magically amplified voice that was instantly recognizable to the Ponyville residents in the room.

“Trixie?!” Twilight Sparkle called out in surprise.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie,” the disembodied voice angrily corrected.

“What is the meaning of this?” Luna spoke, using the Royal Canterlot Voice at full volume. “Show yourself.”

Luna’s demand was answered by a bluish-white ball of energy that came crashing through the stained-glass window of Twilight, Pinkie, and Penumbra before bursting like a firework, sending shards of glass and bits of rubble throughout the room and dispersing the partygoers. When the painfully bright glow had finally faded, the only ponies remaining were the Princesses, the Element-Bearers, and the Duchess of Everfree. These ponies had completely surrounded the Great and Powerful Trixie, who stood in the center of the hall where the ball of energy had collided with the floor, wearing her trademark cape—but not her pointed hat, oddly enough.

“Hey! We just had that window installed yesterday!” Pinkie Pie called out in irritation. “And Glass Menagerie spent weeks making it, too.”

The showmare, however, didn’t seem to be feeling any sympathy for the artist whose work she’d just destroyed. She ignored Pinkie completely and scanned her antagonists with a haughty gleam in her eyes—which, Twilight soon realized, still had that disturbing shade of blood-red that they’d aquired from the Alicorn Amulet, though they were no longer glowing. Trixie flipped a stray lock of her mane over her shoulder and announced, “The Great and Powerful Trixie is here to—”

“Hang on,” Rainbow Dash interrupted as she left the cluster of Element-Bearers and flew over to what remained of the stained-glass window. “This room’s like, two stories up. How did you walk through that hole?”

Trixie clearly did not appreciate this intrusion into her carefully scripted entrance. “Stagecraft,” she replied curtly as her mouth twisted into a scowl. She seemed quite ready to resume her statement, but another pony jumped in with a follow up question.

“What are you doing, Trixie?” Twilight asked, clearly unnerved by the dispassionate composure the showmare was displaying in the face of ten of the most powerful ponies in Equestria. “Is this some more insanity from the Alicorn Amulet?”

“Wait, the Alicorn Amulet is real?” Luna suddenly asked. “I thought Discord had fabricated the entire tale to fool my sister and I.”

“It was real,” Trixie answered coolly before transitioning her attention back to her nemesis, “until the Great and Powerful Trixie obliterated it, unlocking all of her magical potential in the process. She is now more than able to go hoof-to-hoof with you, ‘Princess’ Twilight.”

Twilight Sparkle groaned. “Trixie, now is not the time for you to be worrying about your bruised ego. Discord is—”

“Doing precisely what he told the Great and Powerful Trixie he would do, and she is returning the favor by ensuring that his efforts continue to be uninterrupted,” Trixie said with a sneer. “There is little point in forming an alliance only to back out of it immediately, particularly when one’s ally is an unstable abomination.”

“Why would anypony in their right mind form an alliance with Discord?” Rarity cried out with her customary melodramatic flair.

“Our interests are aligned,” Trixie answered as if she was speaking to a schoolfilly. “He wishes to ‘shake up’ the status quo, and helping the Great and Powerful Trixie overthrow the current political system will accomplish precisely that.”

Upon hearing this blatantly treasonous statement, most of the Element-Bearers and their friends seemed ready to pounce on Trixie right away, but Celestia held them back with a silent, knowing glance. It seemed that she wanted to give Trixie the chance to either realize the folly of her actions, or to dig herself so deep that there would be no question about whether the use of force was needed. “Why do you wish to rule Equestria?” she asked, eyeing the showmare warily.

“Because the Great and Powerful Trixie is objectively better than Twilight Sparkle, no matter what the magically illiterate chatterers say about her being the ‘highest-level unicorn.’”

Twilight, however, didn’t find this to be a very convincing reason to stage a coup. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to just challenge me to another magic duel?”

“Oh, no, you aren’t worming your way out of this one, Sparkle. Even if Trixie wins your proposed magic duel, the riffraff would just claim that you lost on purpose again, because those idiots in the press are all on your side. But after tonight, none shall deny the supremacy of the Great and Powerful Trixie!”

“Sounds like a mighty tall order, given that you’re dumb enough ta trust Discord,” Applejack said.

“Please,” Trixie responded as she rolled her eyes. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is well aware of her ally’s duplicity. However, this will only cement her renown as a diplomat and strategist once her deft handling of that chimeric monstrosity becomes common knowledge.”

Cadance suddenly let out a derisive laugh. “Ha! It seems to me your little plan’s got a big problem: Discord isn’t here, but all of the Elements are, and Celestia, and Luna. You really think you can take them all on by yourself?”

“Who are you?” Trixie asked in obvious confusion.

“I am Mi Amore Candenza, Princess of the North,” the pink alicorn said with an air of stern defiance that suggested that she, too, was no slouch when it came to magical combat.

At first, Trixie seemed to be visibly put off by this new interloper, but she pushed her concerns aside. “Well, Cadenza,” she replied with a dark chuckle, “The Great and Powerful Trixie won’t have to take on all of her opponents at once.”

“Why? You think we’re going to be polite and come at you one at a time?”

“No, Trixie thinks that most of you will be far too busy dealing with her other ally.”

“Other ally?” Rainbow Dash asked. “What other ally?”

As if on cue, the ground suddenly began vibrating as a series of heavy thuds began growing in volume. The Great and Powerful Trixie said nothing; she simply smirked triumphantly as a massive ethereal paw plunged through the hole in the wall and swiped, nearly hitting Rainbow Dash and demolishing a second stained-glass window. If the paw’s owner hadn’t been immediately obvious, all doubt would have been disintegrated by the screams that filtered into room: “Ursa Major!”

Twilight looked absolutely flabbergasted. “What— Why— How did you—”

“It seems that somepony was not paying attention when The Great and Powerful Trixie first graced Ponyville with her presence. Ursae have always been a specialty of mine.”

“I beg your pardon?!” Rarity shouted. “That Ursa Minor decimated you!”

“If you are simple-minded enough to assume that The Great and Powerful Trixie normally deals with Ursae without any advance notice in which to prepare herself, that is hardly her problem.”

Luna chose this moment to take matters into her own hooves. “The Ursa has obviously been provoked. I shall handle this—it is a being of stardust, which falls under my domain.” The Princess of the Night flew out of the gaping maw in the wall towards the massive star-bear, silently thanking Providence that it had focused its efforts on the grounds of the Royal Palace, rather than a more densely populated section of Canterlot.

“Hold, Great Bear!” Luna called as she flew to the Ursa Major’s eye level. “I am Luna, Princess of Equestria, and I ask you to reconsider—” Luna’s attempt at diplomacy was cut short when the Ursa brought its paw crashing down on her head, sending the Princess hurtling towards the large, paved courtyard beneath her. Luna had just enough time to realize she’d been too impulsive before the back of her head slammed into the cobblestones and she lost consciousness.

“It appears that her persuasive abilities are inferior to those of The Great and Powerful Trixie,” said Trixie said as she watched the Princess smash into the ground with much amusement. “But, as the saying goes, ‘Anything you can do, The Great and Powerful Trixie can do better.’”

“How ’bout you stick a cork in that hogwash?” Applejack shouted. “You lost before, and you’ll lose again.”

“Maybe, but not tonight,” Trixie said menacingly. “The time for pleasantries is over. Your subjects are panicking, Twilight Sparkle. What are you going to do?”

Twilight glanced nervously at Celestia, who seemed to be putting an immense amount of effort into maintaining the stoic expression on her face as she looked at the small crater that had formed around her sister. For her part, Celestia immediately decoded her erstwhile student’s unspoken question, and her answer was swift: “Battlefield tactics have never been my strong point, Twilight. I will defer to you on this.”

Twilight bit her lip as she briefly looked back towards Trixie, who seemed to be finding much entertainment in Twlight’s unease. Then, taking a deep breath, she made her decision. “If Cadance and Penumbra stay with you, can you keep Trixie occupied?”

Celestia nodded. “I shall do my best.”

“All right. C’mon, girls!” she called to the other Element-Bearers. “The Ursa Major is our top priority!” The six Elements of Harmony didn’t argue; and they all rushed out of the hall’s double doors to assist the citizens of Canterlot.

“Now, then,” said The Great and Powerful Trixie, “it’s—” The showmare was cut off when she received a buck to her right shoulder, sending her skidding into a table of uneaten party favors. Apparently, Princess Cadance was in no mood to listen to another smug monologue.

“You insolent twit!” Trixie shouted. “You’ll pay for that.” She used her aura to levitate several sharp pieces of cutlery from the table, but before she could do anything with them, she was tackled to the ground by an angry-looking midnight-blue blur.

“Newsflash, Trixie,” Penumbra said as she stared Trixie in the eye, her face hovering inches away from her supine opponent’s. “This is a fight, not a duel.” The pegasus waved a hoof, producing a small cloud which she jammed around Trixie’s head before taking off, lifting the unicorn to the ceiling and unceremoniously dropping her into a massive punch bowl.

Trixie’s red eyes were glowing once again by the time she rose to her hooves and removed the makeshift cloud blindfold. “Very well. If you intend to shun sophistication, The Great and Powerful Trixie shall do the same!” She then let loose a barrage of the most basic martial unicorn spell, sending dozens of bolts of unrefined magic towards her opponents. Cadance, however, responded with the very same spell, while Penumbra began adding bolts of lightning to Cadance’s bolts of magic. This, however, had mixed results, as Cadance had apparently never fought alongside a pony using advanced pegasus magic before, and ended up getting singed nearly half a dozen times. The fact that Trixie was focusing most of her efforts on Penumbra at the moment didn’t help, either—lightning bolts were hard enough to aim when one was stationary, but attempting to dodge magic attacks only compounded the difficulty. As a result, despite being outnumbered, The Great and Powerful Trixie was holding her own against her opponents, and furthermore, those opponents seemed to be tiring more quickly.

All this time, Celestia looked on, doing her best to conceal her anxiousness. She’d always hated fighting, mostly because she was so much more powerful than the average pony that she had to constantly make sure she held back enough to make sure she wouldn’t seriously injure her opponent. As a result, she’d gotten into the habit of attempting to use diplomacy until it was blatantly obvious that a massive display of force was necessary to bring about a swift resolution. To Celestia’s credit, this strategy was usually quite successful, as she was a very skilled diplomat. However, when Cadance landed badly after jumping out of the way of one of Trixie’s more powerful strikes, she crumpled to the ground, nursing a sprained hoof, and leaving Penumbra to face Trixie alone. It was then that Celestia decided that she was justified in taking direct action.

Celestia’s philosophy of battle was quite straightforward: fighting was bad, so when it had to be done, the least objectionable approach was to make sure it ended as soon as possible. Just as importantly, what little experience she had gained in her position as the default “last resort” of the Equestrian military had been enough to give her a good sense of how to hold back just enough of her power to keep from causing her opponent permanent injury. Celestia stepped towards Trixie with her horn already glowing as she charged up her attack. “This is your last chance, Trixie,” Celestia said in her most authoritative tone of voice. “Surrender now, and you will be shown mercy.”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie needs nopony’s mercy!” the unicorn shouted indignantly.

“So be it.” The spell Celestia had been charging was one she’d developed nearly six hundred years earlier, after a troubling incident when she’d accidentally crippled a young, foolish unicorn whose only crime had been to choose the wrong ponies as friends. This spell would not harm Trixie physically, though if she took the full force of the spell, she might find herself unable to use magic for several years. Cutting a unicorn off from her magic was not exactly a pleasant act to contemplate, but Trixie had not only made clear her intentions to take over Equestria and set an Ursa Major loose in Canterlot, but she was also getting in the way of dealing with Discord. With a mighty shout, Celestia let loose her spell... which hit a wall when Trixie teleported out of its path, right next to Celestia.

Celestia turned her head in time to see Trixie charging up a spell of her own, causing her aura to crackle menacingly around her horn. The blue unicorn smirked wickedly as she said, “Anything you can do, I can do better.” Before Celestia could respond, Trixie pressed her horn against the Princess’ barrel. Instantly, all the muscles in Celestia’s body stiffened, causing her to start shuddering as the stiffness intensified, and then somehow she was lying on the floor, becoming completely disoriented as her body was wracked with spasms. Oddly, though, Celestia didn’t feel any pain—discomfort, yes, but not pain. By the time it stopped, Trixie was breathing heavily. “You’re... still... conscious? That’s... insane....”

Celestia responded with a groan. Her body may not have been in much pain, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so tired.

“Oh well,” Trixie continued, finally catching her breath. “Fortunately—” Trixie stopped abruptly as a jagged bolt of lightning hurled towards her... and was suddenly stopped by a translucent blue shield.

“What?!” Penumbra cried aloud from her perch on a small cloud. Apparently, she’d been hoping to use the lull in the combat to hit Trixie with a perfectly-aimed strike. “Why didn’t you do that before?”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie didn’t know that you were uncouth enough to interrupt her before,” came the rather droll answer. She took a few seconds to strengthen the shield in case Penumbra tried to use something stronger before returning her attention to Celestia, who still seemed dazed. “Now, where was she? Oh, yes. Fortunately, The Great and Powerful Trixie has a ‘Plan B.’”

Trixie then walked in front of her opponent, looked her in the eye, and began to cast a lullaby spell. Thirty seconds later, Princess Celestia was out cold.

Author's Notes:

If your initial reaction to Trixie's victory was "There's no way that could possibly happen," don't worry: that's precisely the reaction I was hoping for. Figuring out how Trixie actually won is one of the most important tasks our heroines face in the forthcoming chapters.