1. Hard to Swallow.

Princess Twilight Sparkle’s eyes snapped open. A few seconds later, her alarm went off. She hopped out of bed, turned off the clock. After decades of routine she didn’t really need it anymore, but she never could bring herself to get rid of it.

She sensed her assistant waiting outside. She put on her regalia quickly; it always made her feel a little guilty to keep Chromatic Quill waiting, and the mare would never have the courage to knock on the door.

The cooks had outdone themselves again. The pancakes tasted light and fluffy, and the blueberries had soaked into the batter perfectly. The syrup felt rich and smooth. Twilight summoned a napkin and slowly, delicately wiped her mouth. Almost nopony occupied the dining room—just her and Chroma—but Twilight knew better than to drop her facade of professionalism. It only took a single misplaced action and a single photograph to give the press weeks of ammunition.

“So, a meeting to discuss the new roadwork, and then a party with some diplomats.” Twilight had to put extra effort into the word. Calling it a “party” felt as bad as lying. Parties were supposed to be fun, and this would just be more business in a slightly different location.

“Yes, Princess.” Chromatic Quill marked something on her clipboard. “Then after that you are seeing petitioners in your throne room.”

“Of course I am.” Twilight stood up. “Well then, I suppose we had better get started.” The sooner they started, the sooner it would end, after all.

The meeting dragged by. Nothing but statistics and arguing officials.

The party met her expectations. Another meeting masquerading as a fun time.

Even now, as she listened to another pony who needed her help, the day felt like a blur. She had spent so much effort ignoring the minutiae of politics that her breakfast felt like a dream from two days ago.

The petitioner thanked her, bowed and left. Twilight mentioned a few details to Chromatic Quill, who scribbled some reminders on her clipboard.

The throne room doors closed, and Twilight let out a long sigh. The stream of ponies that needed her help had not abated for days, weeks, months on end. She found it hard to believe that no more petitioners came through the door. It felt like coming up for air after being underwater—shocking and calming and suspicious all at once.

She rested her head against her throne, closed her eyes. The silence felt intoxicating.

“Princess Twilight?”

She forced her eyes to stay shut. “What is it, Chroma?”

Chromatic Quill coughed meekly. “I know you are probably tired, but now that all the petitioners are taken care of, the budget committee needs your approval with some new policies.”

“Of course they do,” Twilight muttered.

“I’m sorry, Princess. I could tell—”

“No, if I put it off then they will just need twice as many tomorrow.” Twilight forced her eyes open and slowly got off her throne. She turned to her assistant. The mare usually cowered behind her clipboard whenever Twilight looked directly at her. Today, she had settled for flinching and guilty glances. Twilight smiled despite herself; it seemed all her nagging about confidence had started to pay off.

Twilight started towards the hallway. “Has there been any word from the other Elements of Harmony?” She glanced at the other five chairs as they left the throne room. She gotten used to seeing them vacant; the sight had become simply sad instead of unsettling.

Chroma flipped a page on her clipboard. She always focused a little more, carried herself better, when she did paperwork. “Rarity sent a message. She is going to stay in Manehattan a bit longer. The city keeps—”

“Of course she is. And the others?”

Chroma coughed again, a transparent attempt to recover from the interruption. “They haven’t checked in yet, so presumably their friendship assignments are going normally.”

“Presumably.” Twilight started down a flight of stairs. Even without any other delays, that meant that all five of them would not be back for another half a year or more. Spike’s negotiations would take even longer—dragons had a reputation for stubbornness for a reason. She sighed again. She should have felt comforted by their success.

Twilight closed the door to her room. Certain that nopony saw her, she let her body wilt. Her shoulders drooped, her wings ruffled and re-settled, and joints all across her popped and cracked. She tore off her crown and chestplate and shoes, and forced herself to hang them up properly instead of kicking or throwing them into a corner.

The budget meeting had lasted hours, and after that there had been more plans to approve and more laws to review and a dozen other things she barely remembered. The procession of administration had only ended because she needed to sleep, and even that had not stopped the various officials and committees from eating more of her time.

She went to the balcony. The doors glowed for a moment as she opened them, and the purple of her magic reminded her of Chromatic Quill’s clipboard—all the palace’s materials had her cutie mark or some variation decorating it. Every time Chroma hid behind that clipboard, Twilight’s own cutie mark would stare back at her. The light would glint off the purple clasp or shine off the paper, depending on how exactly Chroma held it.

She took a long, slow, deep breath. The time between her last appointment and sleep was the only break she got; she didn’t want to waste it thinking about business. Not that she didn’t like Chromatic Quill, obviously, but—

She took another slow, deep breath. Even now she let her mind think ahead of her. She draped a hoof over the balcony railing and tried to focus on the city. It looked beautiful in the moonlight. Going to bed so late had some advantages; the skyline looked very pristine so close to midnight.

Ponyville had grown exponentially in the decades she had lived here. She could still see the edge of it brushing against the Everfree Forest, but every year the city limits got closer and closer to the horizon. Every year the population threatened to match Canterlot; Ponyville had never been a small town, and her ascension had given it even more allure.

Twilight sighed. She needed to sleep, otherwise she would not be able to handle everything tomorrow. The mayor had planned some meeting or party or commission or other function, and they expected her to be there.

She turned to her bed. She considered grabbing a book and reading herself to sleep like she used to. It certainly tempted her, despite the sleep she would have to sacrifice. She had already read most of the hundreds of books packed into her bookshelves, of course, but the lack of free time still stung.

Her ear flicked. Was it that simple? Was a lack of free time the cause of all her apathy lately? She certainly had not had any of it in a while. The duties of a Princess multiplied and grew, but they rarely strained her.

Twilight turned to one of her many bookshelves. She bit her lip. She had to get some rest—the meetings had cut into her sleep already, and she would certainly feel any more delays tomorrow. The thought only stopped her for a moment.

She found the book easily; she knew almost every shelf and row and spine by heart.

She found the spell easily; she knew how to navigate a book by now, no matter how old it was.

She found the reagents easily; her desk was probably better stocked than some apothecaries.

She had hesitated, at first. As she flipped through the book, got closer to the spell, her doubts started to fade. When she finally got the page, they vanished completely. The spell had no title, like most old magic. Spells from so long ago usually did not fit in a few words.

It had a simplistic description, nonetheless.

A spell that makes destiny less demanding on the caster, and makes your own choices become more prominent. May be cast in any intensity, but stronger variants may affect things besides the caster.

It sounded perfect. Just what Twilight needed. The idea of a reprieve overrode any misgivings about the ambiguous description.

Ponyville didn’t need her, not really. They had a mayor and a city council and a dozen other committees and officials and volunteers. She just needed a respite, however small. If she had to use magic, then so be it.

She yawned, loudly and at length. She forced her eyes to refocus on the page. The spell looked simple enough. Her mind wandered to that same lecture from grade school; be cautious with new magic. She had not miscast a spell in ages, but that memory never seemed to leave her.

She took a deep breath and let her magic focus. It reacted instantly; her horn began to glow, her aura began to condense, and the spell components on the floor began to crackle.

A bubble of magic wrapped around her, and the smell of grass and moss filled the room as the ingredients evaporated.

She lifted her head, closed her eyes, and pushed more magic into the spell. It had to be potent. Strong enough to overcome all the baggage of being a famous princess.

It felt like teleporting. A burst of energy followed by silent emptiness. Like the world had closed its eyes and took a moment to catch its breath.

2. Pessimistic Lines

Twilight’s eyes snapped open. It smelled like sulfur. She sat up, threw her covers aside. Adrenaline pushed aside her desire to sleep.

By the time she had sat up, the smell had vanished. A glance around her room showed nothing out of the ordinary. The library had been well-built. Shifts or creaks or errant odors were rare, thanks to its tree-based construction. Her room was exactly the same as it had been last night.

She ran a hoof through her mane. That felt odd. Perhaps she had dreamed something unusual—some memory had processed strangely and given her a nightmare.

She turned to her clock. She did usually wake up earlier, even though she never woke up that early. Maybe the guilt of sleeping in had woken her.

She yawned. She would never be able to force herself back to sleep, so she resigned herself to getting up.

Her morning routine was the same as always. Check Owloysius’ water, brush teeth, comb mane. There were some leftover waffles from yesterday, so she spared herself making a fresh breakfast.

Her checklist for the day was equally uneventful. A few errands and then lunch with Cheerilee. No one would visit the library on a Sunday anyway, so she could do whatever she felt like.

The walk to Carousel Boutique did not take long. Only a few other ponies walked along the roads, and she arrived in no time at all.

She knocked on the door, just loudly enough.

“The door’s unlocked, dear!” the owner shouted from inside.

Twilight nudged the door open, and the bell attached to it jingled softly. “Hello?”

“Ah, Twilight, there you are!” The owner looked up from the fabric on her desk—a few pins and paper patterns floated around her face. “I imagine you are here for your bag?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“It’s in the back, just let me grab it for you.” The unicorn trotted away into the back of the shop, the cloud of pins and patterns trailing after her.

Rarity, that was her name. Twilight did not come to the Boutique often. She did not own a lot of clothes, and thus didn’t have much reason to visit a seamstress.

Her gaze wandered as she waited. Equipment filled the building: fabric and mannequins and a few outfits on racks. For some reason, the place calmed her. It felt familiar.

Twilight shook her head. She must have still been tired from waking up early. She shouldn’t feel at home in a place she barely visited. She certainly hadn’t felt that way yesterday, when she had dropped off her bag.

“Found it!” Rarity popped back into sight, a purple saddlebag now among the collection of items orbiting her head. “That was a quite a rip, but it should be fine now.” She floated the pouch over to Twilight, and the aura covering it shifted colors as Twilight grabbed it.

Twilight turned it over a bit. She could not even see the seam across the side. The tear had cut right along the picture of her cutie mark, large and visible. The design was now uninterrupted; a closed brown book.

“Thank you, it looks just like new.”

“Glad to help, dear. Was that all you needed?”

Twilight opened her mouth, but the sentence didn’t come out right away. She felt like there was some question she had forgotten. “Yes, that’s it. I’ll let you get back to work.” Was that all she had meant to say?

“Very well, have a wonderful day. And do not hesitate to ask if you need anything else.” Rarity returned to her fabric, and Twilight left without another word. She chose not to worry about the question she had meant to ask.

The market was not crowded. Twilight had expected that, of course. She always saved her shopping for the weekends, when the crowds were thinner. It was more practical, and less uncomfortable.

She had already clipped her mended saddlebag back onto her harness, and both bags had started to bloat with groceries. Thankfully she only had one stop left.

“Hi, Applejack.”

Applejack smiled. It looked like the same non-threatening, neutral smile that she gave to every customer: not too big, not too small. “Here for the usual?”

“Yep,” Twilight said.

Applejack had already pulled up a bag. “Here ya go. Three bits, as usual.”

Twilight had already pulled out the money. Twilight grabbed the bag and Applejack grabbed the bits at nearly the same time.

Applejack smiled the same customer smile. “Thanks, Twilight. See ya next week.”

“Likewise.”

Twilight turned to leave. She had always liked Applejack. In all the time she had lived in Ponyville, of all the ponies she dealt with, Applejack minced words the least. Every week, they said the same few sentences to each other, and nothing else.

Twilight hadn’t started walking yet. Normally the lack of interaction would comfort her. It felt stable and reliable and unintrusive, which was just how Twilight liked things.

Yet her hoof didn’t move. A nagging something touched the back of her mind. The same feeling from when she had talked to Rarity. She had subconsciously chosen to ignore it then, but it felt stronger now.

Twilight turned around.

“What’s the matter, sugarcube?” Applejack asked. “Ya forget somethin’?”

Twilight didn’t answer right away. She wrestled for a few moments with that feeling, trying to analyze it somehow.

“Oh, I was just wondering how your brother and sister were doing.” The question made her cringe. Twilight wasn’t even sure if Applejack had a brother and sister. So why had she asked?

Applejack smiled again. This time it was a little more genuine, with more teeth. “They’re alright, thanks for askin’. Big Mac is outta town for a supplier’s convention, and Apple Bloom managed to get a decent report card fer once.” Applejack’s smile faltered a bit. “What about your, uh, family? I guess I don’t even know if you have any siblings or not.”

“Oh, my brother’s fine,” Twilight said. “Still captain of the guard in Canterlot, but I hear things are pretty slow these days.”

“Well, glad ta hear it. Did ya need anythin’ else?”

“No, I guess not. Have a good day.”

“Thanks, you too!”

Twilight turned to leave again, and this time her hooves actually moved. That was weird. She idly licked the roof of her mouth, wondering why that question had suddenly decided to spill out of her like that. And more importantly, why she had not stopped it.

Twilight pulled out her checklist for the day. “Meet Cheerilee for lunch at Lucky’s. (176 Sidesaddle Rd.)” She glanced at the sign for the fourth time. It definitely said “Lucky’s”, even though it used an obtuse font and was overlaid on a picture of a clover.

Twilight set the list on the table and tried to focus on something else. The weather looked nice and sunny, and there had been an outdoor table available. She had already dropped the groceries off at her house.

She glanced at the sign again. She had asked Cheerilee the name and address of the place twice. This had to be it. They should have just gone to Sugarcube Corner like they usually did. Cheerilee always tried to get Twilight to break from routine. Never mind that she liked her routine.

“Hi, Twilight! Sorry I’m late.”

Twilight blinked. Cheerilee had already sat down at the table.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Twilight said.

“Knowing you, you spent the entire time worrying about where I was.” Cheerilee propped her saddlebags against her chair. “I got sidetracked grading some tests. Normally I don’t like to make you panic.”

“I wasn’t panicking,” Twilight muttered.

Cheerilee chose not to correct her. It was obvious from the way she hid her smile. “So, what do you think?” She waved a hoof at the building. “Pretty nice place, right?”

“The view is alright,” Twilight said. “I told the waiter I was waiting for a friend, so I haven’t seen the menu yet.”

Cheerilee sighed. “Come now, Twilight. It’s just a slightly different restaurant. No need to be so cautious and…”

“And what?” Twilight asked. Her tone sounded more defensive than she had intended.

“I don’t know.”

“I showed up didn’t I? I chose not to make a fuss over it.”

“Well, perhaps not vocally, but your body language says otherwise,” Cheerilee said simply.

“So I like stability, then. Hardly unhealthy.”

“Yes, but there’s stability and then there’s actively avoiding growth.”

Twilight frowned. Cheerilee usually phrased her sentences more gently. “I’ll choose to ignore that.”

Cheerilee sighed again. “Speaking of rigid routines, I had a favor to ask you.”

“Oh?”

“We’re having a career week at the school, and I was hoping you could come in to speak with the students.”

Twilight stiffened. She should have expected this. Cheerilee always tried to get her to try new things and be more sociable and all that corny nonsense. The new restaurant was just a flanking maneuver, meant to soften her up for the actual assault. “Cheerilee…”

“Please, Twilight? You don’t need to make any speeches or anything, just talk about your job a little bit. Community awareness is a very big part of our curriculum. I’ve already asked a bunch of other ponies, and having as big a cross-section of our town as possible is important.”

“You’ll forgive me if awkward interaction with a bunch of judgmental children is not a high priority of mine.”

Cheerilee tried to keep her mouth from moving. If she had meant to frown or sigh, she restrained herself. “Fine, I won’t force the issue. You always were the type to make up your mind quickly.”

“That expression says otherwise.” Twilight reached for her water, mostly as an excuse to avoid eye contact with Cheerilee.

“I’m not judging you, I’m just worried,” Cheerilee said. “When was the last time you went out for something besides errands?”

“I’m happy to say that I don’t remember.”

“You know, socialization affects self-image—”

“Yes, I read Mead’s article too, you know.” Twilight finally put her glass down. She was certainly tempted to swirl it or sip it or something, but that would only help Cheerilee’s case. “I appreciate time alone, that’s all. Any pony would. I would much rather maintain my comfortable life than trap myself in an unpleasant one.”

“You make it sound so depressing.”

“Not being in control of your life certainly is depressing,” Twilight said.

Cheerilee finally grabbed her own glass of water. “I guess you aren’t going to Pinkie Pie’s party tonight, then?”

“Another one? Dare I ask what trivial thing this is for?”

“I believe it’s to celebrate the defeat of Discord.”

Ah yes, Twilight had heard of that. It had only happened a week or so ago. An ancient god (or was it demi-god?) had gotten loose and started trashing Canterlot and Ponyville. Thankfully, the entire event had been extremely uninterested in Twilight and her library, so she hadn’t really noticed it. She had spent most of the day curled up with a book, like usual.

Twilight opened her mouth to reply, but no words came. She felt a sting in her chest, like the guilt before a lie or malicious inaccuracy. She coughed, and tried again. “I don’t really get along with Pinkie Pie.” The guilt did not fade. She knew it was true, though.

“There will be other ponies there. You get along with Rainbow Dash, don’t you? Don’t you want to congratulate your friend on defeating a horrible, ancient evil?”

Rainbow Dash certainly patroned the library consistently. The two of them had had more than a few conversations about books. Twilight didn’t really think of her as a “friend”, though. Twilight opened her mouth to say just that, but the statement stuck in her throat. She had never really considered Rainbow Dash more than an acquaintance. Now that Cheerilee had used the word, however, she didn’t know how to react.

“Rainbow Dash and I… Well, I guess we are friends, now that you say it.”

Cheerilee smiled. She probably used the same sort of smile whenever one of her students did something intelligently adorable. “You sound surprised.”

“Well, I don’t know. I suppose I never really thought of her that way, until now.”

“What changed?” Cheerilee did not stop smiling. While it probably felt flattering to a foal, to Twilight it felt dangerously close to patronizing.

“That’s a very good question.” Twilight took another drink of her water, this time to help herself think. A very good question indeed.

A waiter walked up to their table. “Hello, ladies. Sorry for the wait, bit of a busy day today.” He pulled a pair of menus from his bag. He had barely gotten them loose when Twilight pulled them out of his mouth.

It had certainly taken him long enough.

3. We All Become

The party met her expectations. A bunch of ponies she didn’t know and a bunch of small talk she didn’t care for. Why had she agreed to come here again? To talk to the two ponies she actually liked? She could do that anywhere, and it would not have been nearly as loud as it was in Sugarcube Corner at the moment.

Twilight took another bite of her hay roll. At least the food tasted good. Conveniently, less ponies were inclined to talk to her while she was standing near the food table. Every time one tried, she took a bite or sip of something and they would give up eventually.

Twilight sighed. She hadn’t even seen Rainbow Dash or Cheerilee at all since she got here. This had been a terrible decision. What had she been thinking? She could be at home reading a nice book or something, instead of sitting here for ten minutes eating food in order to avoid conversation.

She turned to leave and promptly bumped into Pinkie Pie.

Pinkie gasped, and it was just loud enough to cut through the low hum of conversation. “Twilight! I didn’t know you were coming! You never come to my parties! Well, except, now you do, since you’re at this one!”

“Hello, Pinkie Pie,” Twilight said. She had never liked Pinkie Pie. The pony had insisted on being Twilight’s “friend”, but Twilight certainly didn’t need energy and attention and spectacle following her everywhere. “I was actually just stopping by. I have things to do at the library.”

“But you just got here! Have you mingled yet? Or maybe hung out? You might be the hobnobbing type. Probably don’t wanna consort or get chummy.” Pinkie draped a leg over Twilight’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s work the room! I’ll help you. There’s all sorts of ways to make new friends! No need to sit here by the food all night, right?”

Twilight forced Pinkie’s leg off her. One had to cut off Pinkie quickly; momentum was another thing Twilight did not need. “I’d really rather not,” Twilight said. “I mostly came here to see Rainbow Dash and Cheerilee, but it looks like they aren’t here yet.”

“Oh, Rainbow Dash is upstairs with Fluttershy! They were regaling some ponies with the story of how we stopped Discord! Or maybe they were indulging them. Or maybe—”

“Thanks, I got it.” Twilight turned to the stairs. Pinkie Pie hopped after her.

“Want me to show you where they are?”

“Thanks, I think I can handle it.”

“Okay, let me know if you need anything!”

Pinkie bounced towards the kitchen, and Twilight let out a sigh. Finally.

She pushed her way through the crowd of ponies towards the stairs. She managed to navigate the throng without much jostling or bodily contact. As she climbed the stairs, it felt like coming up for air. Crowds had never been a strong suit of hers.

As she entered the top floor, the noise dimmed. Guests had broken off into smaller groups, and conversations wafted out of most of the rooms.

Twilight’s ear flicked. She definitely heard Rainbow’s voice. She walked further along the hallway. Just as she was about to open a door, a small posse of ponies spilled out of it.

Rainbow Dash leaned back in her chair. “Ha, oh man, that thing with the boulder never gets old.”

“Rainbow, maybe you shouldn’t keep telling that to everypony,” Fluttershy said softly.

“Why not?” Rainbow Dash put her forelegs behind her head. The beanbag squeaked as she settled into it. “Rarity was hopped up on chaos magic. We all were. I mean, it wasn’t funny then, but it’s pretty funny now, right?”

“I guess,” Fluttershy said softly.

Twilight stepped into the room.

“Oh, hey, Twilight!” Rainbow Dash said. “You just missed the story of how we saved Equestria from a horrible god of chaos. Want me to start over? Very Daring Do, you’ll love it.” She turned to Fluttershy and back again. “Oh, uhm, you know Fluttershy?”

“No, we’ve never met.” Twilight barely knew any of the ponies in town. She only knew library regulars, and the library was hardly high traffic. “I know she’s the Element of Kindness, but that’s about it.”

“Hi,” Fluttershy said. She didn’t bother to make eye contact.

“Hi,” Twilight said.

“Well, uhm, nice meeting you. I’m going to go get something to drink.” Fluttershy floated out of the room. Her mane hid her face well as she passed by Twilight.

“Geez, that was the most boring thing I’ve ever heard.” Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “You two sure suck at talking to ponies.”

“Haven’t you two been up here… I believe Pinkie Pie used the word ‘regaling’.”

“Yeah, but Fluttershy isn’t really great at exciting stuff. She mostly just chimed in to correct details.”

“I see.” Twilight sat down on a pillow. It was still warm from its last occupant. “And how many times have you gone through the story?”

“Uh, three times, I guess?” Rainbow Dash grabbed a drink from a nearby table. “I guess most ponies have heard it by now, though, since the last batch was the smallest.”

“And you don’t get sick of it? Repeating yourself in front of a bunch of strangers?”

Rainbow Dash chuckled. “Well, that’s kinda specific. What’s with you?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Ha, yeah right. You’re a bad liar, Twi.”

Twilight didn’t want to say it. She and Rainbow Dash only ever talked about books. The idea of sharing something personal with her felt so alien. Except opinions were personal, weren’t they? So would it really matter if she said it out loud? She certainly couldn’t talk to Cheerilee about it.

Twilight took a deep breath. Even as she made the decision, it felt uncomfortable. Then her mouth opened, she began speaking, and she couldn’t go back.

“I don’t know. Cheerilee asked me to talk to her class. I suppose I’m still trying to make up my mind about it.”

“Is that it? You’re worried about talking to a bunch of little kids?” Rainbow Dash took a sip of her drink. “Doesn’t sound like a big deal to me.”

“How shocking.”

“Oh come on, Twi. I know you do that whole ‘boring egghead’ act all the time, but you can’t be that bad at talking to ponies. You came to this party, after all.”

“I didn’t choose to come here. Cheerilee guilted me into it,” Twilight said.

“Nopony can force you to do stuff, Twi. That’s a pretty bad excuse.”

“Oh?” Twilight tilted her head ever so slightly. “And what about when you were ‘hopped up’ on chaos magic? Did you have a choice then?”

“Yeah, well, we could still make choices. It was a bad situation, sure, but everypony still had to handle it.” Rainbow Dash waved a hoof. Her reclined position made the motion a little awkward, but it still felt dismissive. “Besides, that was different. I don’t see you having your brain and stuff changed by magic.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “So it’s just that simple, is it? Everyone’s a result of their choices, not their circumstances?”

“Uh, sure, sounds about right.”

“You know, Harris wrote an article refuting that very—”

Rainbow Dash groaned. It was just loud and just whiny enough to stop Twilight’s sentence.

Twilight rolled her eyes at that. “You can’t avoid refuting me by pretending to be ignorant. This is just like that time we were discussing Ahuizotl’s motivations in Daring Do and the Broken Pendulum.”

Rainbow Dash sat up. “Hey, I can refute stuff!”

Twilight smiled. Rainbow’s lackadaisical act always broke when Twilight brought up that argument.

Rainbow Dash looked towards a particular part of the wall. She had obviously been caught in the act. “Alright, alright. You want a real example?” Rainbow Dash ran a hoof through her mane.

Twilight didn’t rush her. Rainbow Dash had shown she had plenty of good ideas. Sometimes she just needed time to express them.

Rainbow Dash was still rubbing her mane. Her hoof snapped up. It was easy to imagine the click of a lightbulb or gear as her back straightened. “Aha! I got one.” She turned back to Twilight. “You remember the first time we met?”

“Of course. You crashed into the library right as I was in the middle of A Song of Ice and Farrier’s fourth book.”

“Right. And what did you do after? You didn’t just ignore it, you helped get me to the hospital.”

“That’s not a very good example. Nopony could just ignore something like that,” Twilight said.

“Oh yeah? What about after that? You didn’t have to check on me in the hospital, and you definitely didn’t need to bring me a book to read.” Rainbow Dash rubbed her neck. “And, uh, I guess I didn’t need to try and avoid reading it for so long. Or to sneak into the library after it was closed.”

“I caught you anyway.”

“But that’s the point!” Rainbow Dash smiled. She always got that look when her argument came together. It felt almost childlike, the way her pride managed to be so blunt. Of course, the smug self-satisfaction that accompanied it certainly felt like an adult’s. “I chose not to just get a library card, and you chose to investigate the noise, and you chose not to turn me in. Everything turned out alright, but it woulda gone different if we made different choices.”

“How…indeterministic of you, Rainbow.”

Rainbow’s smug, happy smile faded quickly. “Indy-what? That means I’m right, right?”

Twilight’s turned to stare at the same patch of wall. “You certainly…might have a point.” A moment of silence struck the room, just long enough to be noticeable. Finally, she stood up. “I think I’ll head back to the library. I have some work to do.”

“What, giving up so easily?”

“No, it’s not that. You just…just gave me a lot to think about.” Twilight smiled. “Nice talking with you, Rainbow Dash.”

“Hey, anytime.” Rainbow Dash leaned back in her chair. “I’m pretty great at refuting stuff, after all.”

Twilight turned to the door. She ran a hoof through her mane as she left.

She passed by Fluttershy on her way out. Neither of them said anything to each other.

“What took you so long?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“Oh, Vinyl was just telling me about how Spike helped her stop Discord’s magic.” Fluttershy glanced back at the door. “What were you two talking about?”

“Oh, you know—” Dash shrugged “—stuff.”

The schoolhouse looked so unassuming in the early morning light. It looked stoic and knowledgeable, not unlike the library. It was hard to believe that, not long from now, it would bloat with children and flood with noise.

Twilight frowned. The thought of all those fillies and colts staring intently at her stuck in her mind.

“Thanks again for agreeing to help, Twilight,” Cheerilee said. “I know you don’t really enjoy crowds.”

“Yes,” Twilight couldn’t think of anything else to say. Her throat felt dry. Her notecards felt heavy. Did younger ponies respond to notecards? Why had she written so many?

“Don’t be nervous, Twilight! You’ll hardly be the only pony giving a presentation today, and the students aren’t going to attack you.”

“Are you sure this is even a good idea? I mean, who wants to hear from some boring librarian?”

“Oh, don’t be so pessimistic, Twilight. Ponies their age are interested in anything and everything. Why, I have one group of three who have a little club dedicated just to trying new things in order to get their cutie marks.”

“Sounds a little frivolous. I mean, who’s to say destiny isn’t set in stone already?” Twilight muttered.

“Now, Twilight, don’t get all fatalistic on me. My students aren’t concerned with philosophy, they just want to discover as many things as possible. And there’s no better way to discover things than with a magnifying glass and a flashlight.”

“Cute metaphor.”

Cheerilee draped a hoof over Twilight’s shoulder. “Come on, you can help me set up the classroom before everypony gets here.” She started to lead Twilight into the building. “It’ll help take your mind off things.”

“What…what if they don’t like my presentation? What if I just stand up there and make a fool of myself?”

Cheerilee smiled. “I suppose that might happen. But if you get a single pony’s attention, change a single life for the better, won’t it be worth it?”

They stepped into the building. The interior looked just as quaint and stoic as the exterior. The undersized desks made everything seem so unimpressive.

Cheerilee walked over to her desk, rummaged through it for a moment. “Who knows, maybe after today you might even be inspired to do something with the library. I know for a fact that Mayor Mare has been looking for more afterschool programs to fund, make her election easier. I could schedule an appointment with her for this weekend, if you want.”

“Har har. Let’s just take it one step at a time.”

Twilight stopped scanning the room and turned around. Cheerilee held a roll of tape in her mouth, poked it towards Twilight.

Twilight grabbed the roll of tape, and Cheerilee turned to a sign folded in the corner. Marker on butcher paper, by the looks of it.

“Well, you know what they say.” Cheerilee started to unroll the banner, and Twilight could hear the amused smile without seeing it. “A legacy of generations starts with a single pony. Maybe your legacy starts today.”

Twilight, with a legacy. How absurd. Twilight tore off a piece of tape. Twilight Sparkle was the last pony who deserved or wanted a legacy. And yet she didn’t bother to contradict Cheerilee. The idea prodded her. It felt alien and imposing, yet in some ways possible and natural.

Twilight tore off another piece of tape. She thought back to her conversation with Rainbow Dash a few days ago. The idea seemed so childish and simplistic. Yet she hadn’t forgotten it. If she was defined by her choices, then what did it mean, being here? She shook her head, tore another piece of tape off the roll. Best not to worry about it right now. Surviving this would be enough of a challenge. The last time that she had addressed a group of any size had been back in college.

A momentary daydream struck her. She saw herself in the Canterlot senate, desks and chairs everywhere, addressing hundreds of ponies. She turned to Cheerilee, handed over the strips of tape. The idea almost made her laugh. Almost.

Author's Notes:

“People pay for what they do, and still more for what they have allowed themselves to become. And they pay for it very simply; by the lives they lead.” ― James Baldwin