Seeking Power

by Forthwith

First published 11th of April, 2014

Archmage Twilight Sparkle barely sleeps between her duties, her research, and raising Spike. Now she also has to deal with an evil goddess’s return. It would have been nice if Celestia had mentioned she has a sister a year ago…

In the far reaches of Canterlot Castle, high above in the towers lived the archmage. Everypony knew her, yet few had met her.

Twilight Sparkle sighed, having teleported away another noble seeking favors before reaching the top of the stairs for the second time today. They never learned. As the archmage, she already dealt with political squabbles far too often without inviting them into her home. Aside from personal favors for Celestia, she did what was required of her position and then returned to seclusion and research.

The nobility grumbled that no archmage should be a commoner, and Twilight’s disrespect toward them proved it. Each and every time they were forced to bow to her, they hated what they saw: the position, the status, the deference.

Was she not powerful? Was she not great?

Twilight, now reading through dusty scrolls and long forgotten tales, wrote in her notes — notes gathering dust of their own. A brief thought flashed through her mind.

Am I not powerful? Am I not great?

And then Twilight picked up The Tale of the Royal Pony Sisters.

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Defunct side stories told in Across the Boundary. They can still provide a little context, but when in doubt, the main story here is canon.

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Cover art provided by Lafiir

Prelude - Creativity

A brilliant multichromatic streak filled the sky, and something somewhere stirred.

Today was the summer solstice and thus the final day of the Summer Sun Celebration. Canterlot was, as it frequently was, the host for the festival this year.

The usual attractions had invaded the city for the last few days, hosting a wide variety of treats for the young at heart and stomach-turning rides upon which to lose that food. The entire center of the city had been closed off for dancing and music, and if a pony listened carefully, every song would melt together into one fast-paced, tone-deaf extravaganza.

For many, the festival was a time to relax and unwind with something different from the daily grind. For a four-year-old Twilight Sparkle, it was an opportunity.

Only a few weeks ago, Twilight had made her first clumsy attempts at telekinesis and had found herself enthralled immediately. She had, of course, seen her parents and brother casting spells before, but the surge of power exiting her own horn for the first time had exhilarated her in ways mere observation could never compare.

She wanted more.

Twilight hadn’t bothered her preschool teacher with her burning desire to learn; the poor mare already had enough trouble controlling the foals under her care. Twilight’s own parents were often just as busy, as was her brother, who would graduate from school this year. Her foalsitter, Cadance, while very nice, couldn’t teach unicorn magic at a respectable level as a pegasus.

Thus Twilight had turned to books. And then she’d quickly found that her reading skills wanting, not yet up to par to parse the dense texts she’d stolen from her brother’s room. Frustrated and embarrassed, she’d eventually asked her parents for simpler tomes. They had, fortunately, enthusiastically obliged.

Despite this, problems remained. Twilight had eagerly opened the first of many books with which she would begin her journey only for her age and inexperience to thwart her once more. This time her magic had proven the primary source of her frustrations. Even the simplest of spells, when cast, had exhausted her still developing magic.

And yet Twilight had read and learned what she could, eagerly awaiting the moment when her daily training would make her strong enough to cast a real spell rather than dawdle with telekinesis. Of the dozens of books that Twilight had read, one in particular, simply entitled The Alicorn, had drawn her attention. It’d clearly been a foals’ book, containing more illustrations than words. Still, if it were to be believed, there existed a princess like Cadance who could move the sun and moon and had both wings and a horn.

Twilight had known she knew little about the world, but that had still stretched her willing suspension of disbelief. When asked, her brother, Shining Armor, had laughed and said that not only was it true, he attended that very princess’s school. Her brother had then gone on to clarify that she could watch the princess, Princess Celestia, raise the sun at the festival in a few days’ time.

So Twilight had waited. Perhaps not patiently, but she had waited nonetheless. When her family had finally gone to the festival, she’d tried to enjoy it. She really had. But her uncompromising curiosity had gotten the better of her. When it was announced that Princess Celestia would raise the sun in ten minutes, Twilight had bolted off unthinkingly into the crowd. It’d not been long before she realized that she was, assuredly, lost.

And alone.

Twilight had never been more than a room away from somepony she knew before. Even with hundreds upon hundreds of other ponies around her, they were no replacement for her family.

Calm down. Mom told me to find help if I get lost.

“Excuse me,” Twilight began, only to have the mare ignore her or perhaps simply not hear her.

“Um,” Twilight said, trying to get a stallion’s attention, but he was otherwise occupied in conversation and moving faster than Twilight could keep up with.

Okay, Twilight. Don’t cry. So what if nopony cares? Mom told me to find somepony to help me if I-I get lost. I… I can…

Twilight cried as the crowd continued to shuffle around her. Not with the intense, attention drawing bawling of a lost foal but the softer tears and sobs of somepony desperately trying to act grown up.

After what felt like hours but was probably seconds, help arrived in the form of a black cloaked unicorn. Although she wore a hood over her head, Twilight saw her features clearly. Her mane was a fiery yellow and red like the sun in contrast to the darker yellow of her coat. For a few moments, she seemed to engage in some internal debate and then sighed once it ended.

“Hey, kid. You lost?”

Twilight sniffed and nodded.

“Do you know where your family is?”

Twilight shook her head and forced out, “I w-was headed to the c-cere – ceremony and–”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take you there,” the mare said. Her horn emitted an amaranth light as she raised Twilight to her back with her magic. She twisted to speak directly with Twilight. “We’ll head right over and get you a good view of the crowd and Sunbu – er, Princess Celestia. We might be able to find your family there once the sun comes up.”

Twilight managed to bring her tears down to a mere runny nose and thanked her savior as they set out.

“Who are you?” Twilight asked.

After a few moments, the mare replied, “Eventide. And you?”

“I’m Twilight.”

“What? Really?”

Although a little bemused at the surprise in Eventide’s voice, Twilight nodded. Then she remembered that she had to answer aloud and so repeated her answer.

“Ha! We’re the best. Hoof bump.” Eventide stopped walking to twist an arm around to present a hoof to Twilight.

Curious as to the purpose of the gesture, Twilight cautiously tapped her own much smaller hoof against Eventide’s, careful not to fall off in the process. “Why?” she asked. Perhaps she could have phrased that with greater specificity, but it got the point across.

“Our names mean the same thing, Twi. Best time of the day.”

Twilight logged away a new word into her vocabulary with a smile. But the other thing? “Twi? Cadance calls me that.”

Eventide stumbled over a step. “Cadance?” she echoed. Hesitantly, she asked, “Are you talking about Princess Mi Amore Cadenza?”

“Um… Maybe?”

“Pegasus? Pink? Heart shaped cutie mark?”

Twilight nodded, but when she again realized Eventide couldn’t see it, she verbally replied, “Yes.”

Too quiet to hear over the noise of the crowd, Eventide muttered something. Twilight considered asking her to repeat what she’d said but thought better of it. She seemed deep in thought at the moment as she scanned her surroundings.

Before too long, Eventide broke the lull in conversation. “Are you a princess?”

Twilight denied her alleged royal status. Although Eventide made no response to that, she felt the tension release in the shoulders below her. She knew ponies tended to act peculiarly around royalty, however, so she paid the odd response no further attention.

Canterlot’s central plaza was breathtaking even in the middle of the night. Twilight, having never been, let out a gasp at the sight. A massive fountain sat at its heart, a work of art drawn in flows and streams of water with further decorative embellishments in the stonework too far away to see in detail. Statues and foliage ringed the centerpiece, and ponies filled nearly every bit of empty space. Nearest the castle, a large stage filled with important looking ponies sat ready and waiting for Princess Celestia.

Upon arrival, Eventide stopped outside the throng of ponies and looked around for a way in. Obviously discouraged, she said, “Hold on tight.”

Before Twilight could ask why, the amaranth glow of Eventide’s magic enveloped them both. She felt her weight leave her, and then they rose high above the crowd. In her surprise, Twilight nearly lost her grip in her brief panic, but she regained it as she realized they were flying. They were actually flying! The hovering pegasi nearby gave the pair a few odd looks but soon returned to their own business.

All too soon, it came to an end. Eventide found an unoccupied roof nearby and landed atop it. They now had a full view of the crowd and, more importantly, the ceremony to come.

“That was amazing!” Twilight shouted as Eventide set her down on the rooftop. “I’ve never seen a unicorn fly! How did you do that?”

“Well,” Eventide began, pride clear in her voice, “I graduated at the top of my class at Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.”

“Really! My brother goes there, too!”

Eventide again muttered something under her breath. This time, however, she quickly replied with, “Yep. I was no match for the real monsters–”

“Monsters?” Twilight interrupted. “Princess Celestia accepts monsters at her school?” She had thought she would go there herself since her brother said it was the best place to learn magic in Equestria, but if it had monsters…

“No, no. That’s just an expression. What I meant is that there were some very powerful ponies I couldn’t compete with via conventional means. At least not at the time.”

Twilight wasn’t quite sure she understood, and it must have shown on her face.

“Look, Twi, some ponies are just born lucky.” Veering away from what sounded like a bitter topic, Eventide asked, “Can you do any magic yet?”

Twilight looked down, ashamed, and rubbed the roof with her hoof. “Not really. I can barely open a book.”

“That’s pretty good, actually,” Eventide said to Twilight’s surprise. Sure, her family had told her the same thing, but they didn’t count. They were obligated to be supportive. “I imagine you feel other foals are outshining you?”

Tentatively, Twilight nodded as she parsed what Eventide had said. Most other foals could at least do something with their magic already, even if not on demand.

“You could do more as well. If you let yourself go. It’s a matter of control. Those other foals are acting on impulse. They let their magic act on their whims. It’s sloppy. Unreliable. Convenient but wasteful. You don’t want that, do you? You want to cast spells.”

Twilight nodded eagerly.

“I had the same problem. When I was your age, I couldn’t so much as move a balloon. Of course, now I can easily lift myself up onto roofs with a passenger.”

“So that’s how you did it!” Once her initial excitement died down, Twilight realized there was a problem with that conclusion. “But if it’s that easy, why don’t other unicorns fly around?”

“Because they’re fools,” Eventide replied. “It doesn’t really matter how many spells you know or how powerful you are. A little creativity goes a long, long way. Even cantrips can be used in hundreds of different ways beyond the main reason behind their development. Most ponies never look outside the box to see what they can really do. Take telekinesis. Most unicorns see everypony else using it solely for moving other things and never think to turn it onto themselves. The same is true of nearly every other spell, and every other magic, and…well, everything really. Rarely does a pony see something and repurpose it for a different task or try to improve it.”

Eventide turned to Twilight and booped her on the nose. “You’d better not grow up to be so foolish after I took the time to lecture you on this.”

Twilight’s eyes positively glowed with admiration. Nothing in her books had even hinted at anything near what Eventide had told her. “Do you really think I can be that smart?”

“It’s not about being smart or even powerful. Just keep looking for alternate solutions to problems and different ways to use magic.”

Twilight hummed in thought as she stared off toward the stage, trying to think of how she could use her weak telekinesis for something useful.

“Even with your magic still developing, I’m sure you can think of other uses for it besides turning book pages. Perhaps not right away or right now, but maybe tomorrow, or the day after, or next week. The important part is not to be discouraged if nothing comes to mind or if you come up with an idea that doesn’t work. Even bad ideas should be treated as a step in the right direction.”

“Why?”

“Because you want to encourage yourself to think of ideas at all, not punish yourself for being creative and having things not work out.”

“That’s foalish.”

“Oh, it is. But unfortunately, we’re all pretty foalish inside.”

Twilight adopted a skeptical look, but Eventide just laughed.

“Just remember what I’ve said. You’ll understand in time. Oh, and here’s another secret. Don’t make a habit of using telekinesis to move yourself around. Walk most of the time.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Eventide began. She then moved closer to Twilight to whisper, “You’ll get fat.”

Twilight gasped and then looked questioningly at Eventide but was too polite to ask.

“I see that look you have. It’s true. Those were…not my better years.” Eventide offered Twilight a conspiratorial smirk, and she couldn’t help but giggle in return.

A fanfare of trumpets called out announcing the arrival of Princess Celestia. The alicorn seemed to glow in these early hours as she approached the stage at a regal pace. This being the first time Twilight had ever seen the princess, she found herself gaping. The princess was easily twice the size of any other pony, and she possessed both enormous wings and a horn, just like Shining had claimed and The Alicorn had depicted.

Twilight heard Eventide snicker and so quickly shut her mouth, but her stare remained.

Princess Celestia gave a long speech that Twilight barely paid any attention to and was soon banished from her memory by the splendor that followed. With a mighty thrust of her wings, the princess truly glowed as she rose into the sky above the stage. With her ascension, the sun rose above the horizon. Its rays outlined her in the air as her horn grew ever brighter, practically becoming a second sun in its own right. The sky moved from black, to purple, to red, to yellow, and then finally took on a familiar blue, each shade complementing her in its own special way.

When the princess returned to the stage, the crowd cheered, and Twilight cheered with them. She had doubted, but what she’d seen was too beautiful to question a moment longer.

Twilight had just finished her cheer when a thought took her. “Will I be able to raise the sun someday?”

A pregnant silence fell on their little rooftop retreat.

“Maybe,” Eventide replied. Twilight didn’t know what, but some strange emotion lingered in the air. But then, in an instant, it was gone. “I can’t say it’s impossible, but I think Princess Celestia would probably be upset with you.”

“Oh…” Twilight couldn’t imagine upsetting the princess, not after today.

“Perhaps if you ask permission first. But hey, look. I found Cadance.” Eventide pointed toward the stage. Twilight followed the hoof until her gaze landed upon the pegasus in question. As soon as it had, she felt Eventide’s magic pick her up and once more deposit her onto the mare’s back. “I’ll take you down there. Just…don’t mention me.”

Night Light lugged two stacks of eleven thick books into his home, his flickering, light-blue magic clearly showing the strain he’d put it through during the journey. Setting them down at the bottom of the stairs, he took a break to ease his weary horn. It was at times like these that he wished his little filly was strong enough to make her own library runs – and on second thought, old enough as well. Five was a tad too young to send somepony, even a prodigy of her level, out alone into the world.

Picking up the books once more, Night Light finished the last leg of his errand and ascended the stairs. He then knocked on Twilight’s door, which was, quite fortunately, just at the top.

“Come in.” The door swung open in time with the words, a faint raspberry glow pulling at its handle.

Night Light stepped inside with the library books trailing behind him. “Hey, Twilight. I picked up everything you asked for.”

Twilight let out a small squee from her desk. She crossed the room in a blink and then leapt up to hug Night Light, dangling from his neck by her hooves. “Thank you so much!” she said as he wrapped an arm around her to support her weight. Her magic took over for his the moment he set the books down, carrying them one by one to their new home for the next few weeks.

“It’s no problem. We’re always happy to get you any books you want. Although if you could spread your requests out into smaller batches…”

Twilight looked up from her hug and said, “I’ll try.”

“Oh, and your mother wants you to wash the dishes if you’re feeling up to the task.”

Thinking for a moment, Twilight nodded. “I can manage it.”

Breaking apart from each other, Night Light and Twilight walked downstairs and into the living room. She continued on into the kitchen while Night Light diverted to the study where he found his wife at work.

“I still can’t believe it,” Night Light said, causing his wife to glance up from her desk. “What are the chances we get two geniuses out of two foals?”

Twilight Velvet shrugged. “Either really good, or really bad, but I suspect the former. It’s a lot easier when we know what to do. It also helps that Shining is both willing to lend a hoof and already grown and out of our manes.” She paused a moment to nibble on the end of her quill. “I still suspect something important happened at the last Summer Sun Celebration.”

Night Light considered that as he always did. It was readily apparent that seeing Princess Celestia raise the sun had fanned the flames of Twilight’s interest in magic. Anypony could see that. But beyond the obvious, there was something subtlety different in how she behaved that neither Night Light nor Velvet had ever quite been able to put their magic on.

“I still worry about her,” said Night Light.

“We’ve had this conversation before, dear. Several times.”

“I know, I know. It’s just, Shining had trouble making friends in school. He was smart, and studious, and sort of a show off. A lot of his peers ended up resenting and bullying him or just pretended he didn’t exist. But Twilight…” Night Light pursed his lips. While he didn’t like to think there was something wrong with his daughter, lying to himself helped nopony. “She doesn’t even seem to care. It’s like she doesn’t even notice other ponies exist. She was like that even before the festival, but…more shy than oblivious?”

“She took to Cadance quickly enough.”

That hardly needed any explanation. “Cadance stepped up and helped her learn to read. There’s no way she wouldn’t like her after that.” It was one of the many reasons Night Light had all but welcomed the mare into the family. He still didn’t understand how the universe had aligned such that Shining had ended up dating royalty – they were, after all, still trying to pretend they could hide their affections – but so long as she didn’t break his son’s heart, he wished them well.

Velvet sighed. Night Light recognized that particular brand of sigh as the one she made when she tired of arguing a point. “I think Shining may have put it best. He does have a much better understanding of her mentality than we do.” Performing her best imitation her son, she quoted, “‘It doesn’t matter if she never has a single friend in her life so long as she’s happy.’” She paused a moment to massage her throat. “I know it’s unusual, but who are we to question what she enjoys?”

“Her parents.”

“That doesn’t mean we should try to change who she is. Forcibly altering her utility function would be tantamount to killing her, never mind that we’d then have a new filly running around the house.”

Night Light rolled his eyes and collapsed onto the sofa in the room. “Why did I ever marry a philosopher?” Velvet didn’t even use her degree. She was a writer, for Celestia’s sake.

But then Velvet purred, “You know why.” A knowing smirk crept up her face as Night Light caught her meaning. With a foreboding click, the study door locked.

The faint sound of tableware shattering filtered into the room. The mood broke in an instant. Alas, such were the perils of having children.

“Oh dear,” Velvet said, worried. “Could you take care of that, Nighty?”

With a nod and a reluctant sigh, Night Light left the study. Apparently it’s too soon to ask Twilight to do the dishes.

A second crash, this one louder, came from the kitchen and was followed by a barely audible grinding sound.

Odd… I would have expected Twilight to stop trying after the first accident. She’s not the kind of filly who can’t recognize her limi–

Walking into the kitchen, Night Light saw Twilight smash a third plate on the floor. So puzzled by her behavior was he that he said nothing and just watched as Twilight further broke the plate into smaller pieces. Once she finished, her horn glowed a brilliant raspberry. Her face clearly showed the strain she put on it. Then the spell was cast. A small skittering sound came from the scattered pieces of the smashed plate as they slowly came together back into their original form looking brand new and, more interestingly, spotless.

That…was impressive.

Twilight took a deep breath before grabbing another plate in her magic and smashing it to the ground as she had the previous one.

“Any particular reason you’re…washing the dishes like that?” asked Night Light.

Looking up, surprised, Twilight answered, “It’s faster this way. And they get cleaner.”

“But it’s not easier, I’d imagine. You look like you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

Shrugging, Twilight continued her work.

“When did you even learn a repair spell?”

Twilight only answered after she placed another newly re-minted plate with the others in her output pile. “I dropped a book in a puddle. There was water damage even with magic helping.” She broke another plate. “I needed a way to fix it. The basic repair spell is…vers…versi… versatile–” The latest plate joined the rest after a few seconds of magic dancing to her whim. “–but tiring.”

“I see… You’re learning at an incredible rate.”

A huge smile greeted the complement.

Oh, she’s so cute! If only Night Light had a camera at hoof. “What were you planning to do with the silverware?”

“I don’t need to break them. It just makes it easier” – another plate broke against the ground – “to see the spell as ‘repairing’ them if they’re really broken. It’s a matter of visualization.” Twilight carefully sounded the last word out. “It’s unnecessary, but it helps.”

Not knowing any repair magic himself, Night Light waited until Twilight finished with her latest spell to interrupt her. “If you’re in such a rush to get back to reading, why don’t you let me finish these for you.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Go have fun.”

“Thanks!” After a quick hug, Twilight bounded out of the kitchen, presumably destined for her room upstairs.

Night Light watched his daughter run off and then turned to examine her spellcraft. Levitating the plate up to examine every angle, he found absolutely nothing to complain about.

Very impressive.

It’d been almost a year since Shining Armor moved out of his parents’ home and joined the Royal Guard. Since then, what little free time he had, he mostly spent with Cadance. But today she was busy doing ‘princess stuff’. However regretful, this left Shining free to spend the day with his precious little sister.

Speaking of whom, Shining always knew where to find her. He had no need of a tracking spell, neither a magical version nor a parental one. If Twily was not with his best friend – and secretly his mare friend – Cadance or out with the family, then she was in her room reading or practicing magic.

Bursting into said space, Shining shouted, “LSBFF!”

“BBBFF!” Twily replied, jumping into his ready and waiting arms for a hug. “What brings you here, Shining?”

“I had some free time and wanted to see my adorable little sister now that she’s six years old.”

The smallest and subtlest frown passed over Twily’s face before returning to a smile. “Oh? So what should we do?”

“Hey, I saw that.”

“Saw what?”

“Oh, you little liar,” Shining said as he gave Twily a gentle noogie. “I should throw you in jail for lying to a royal guardspony. I saw that frown. What’s wrong?”

Twily avoided Shining’s eyes for a while, but he had no intention of letting her out of answering.

“I was just…at a bad point to stop reading. But it’s no problem! Let’s go have some fun together.”

Velvet and Night Light returned home late at night and found Cadance with a wing draped over a sleeping Twilight, now seven years old, whose face was firmly planted in a book with notes littered around her. This had happened several times before, but each new occurrence was just as adorable as the last.

“Thanks for foalsitting Twilight again, Cadance,” Velvet said.

“It’s no trouble. All I have to do is give Twi something new to read, and she entertains herself.”

Night Light smiled and looked down at what Twilight had written. The vast majority of her notes bore outrageously large numbers – with units. A sizable collection of diagrams accompanied the math, all of which went right over his head. The only thing he could decipher from the mess was a vague, general intent to move something.

Something big, apparently.

At the bottom of one parchment, Twilight had scrawled, “Even bad ideas are a step in the right direction.” It had more than a few underlines beneath it. It was the kind of emphasis a pony made when they were frustrated and wanted to give up but too stubborn to actually do so. Or maybe that was just Night Light.

“What book did you give her?”

“Hmm?” Cadance turned her attention from Twilight to Night Light. “Oh, Twi asked me to bring an astronomy text last time. No clue why.”

“Mom? Dad?” Twilight sat down at the table across from her parents with a serious expression upon her face. “Could you look over my application for me?”

“Application?” Velvet looked on questioningly, put down her morning coffee, and took the papers Twilight placed on the table. “This is an application to Princess Celestia’s school. And the scholarship application as well.” For some reason, she sounded a little disappointed.

Night Light quickly stepped in to explain. “We were going to fill these out for you and surprise you next week just after your birthday.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.” Twilight almost immediately realized she had an irreplaceable opportunity. Putting on the best pleading eyes she could, Twilight asked, “You don’t suppose I could get a different surprise, could I?”

“I’m sure we can come up with something,” Night Light mused.

“Hmm…” Velvet tapped a hoof to her jaw in thought. “I suppose I have an idea.”

“What is it?” Twilight eagerly asked.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?”

“I suppose not…”

“You’ll just have to wait. And when you least expect it…”

After a brief pause, Night Light continued, “Wham! Surprise and happy times!”

Twilight jumped in surprise. A few moments later, she recovered and then laughed. Her parents were not as interesting as magic – what could be? – but they certainly knew how deliver a joke.

Twilight. T. Why can’t ponies pick names like…Zel…or Xyn…um…Water Lilly? That one is good. All this waiting is so. Very. Stressful. What’s the point of having a great name like Twilight if you just get shuffled to the back of every single alphabetized list?

Twilight sighed. Her written exams had gone perfectly. Or at least it was her opinion that they had. She put considerable stock in her ability to judge herself, so she’d already erased the simplistic exam designed for eight-year-olds from her mind. All that remained was the practical test, a test that, for some bizarre reasoning, the proctors had decided needed to be done one applicant at a time.

A proctor approached Twilight where she sat with a sweet smile. “Twilight Sparkle?” she asked as a formality despite Twilight being the only other pony in the room. Once she had confirmation, she said, “If you would follow me, we’re ready to start your practical examination.”

Twilight followed the mare down a couple hallways into a large lecture hall. An entire panel of proctors – or what Twilight referred to as judges – waited with clipboards and quills at the ready to decide her fate. At the front of the room stood a small cart filled past overflowing with straw upon which resided a large, polka-dotted egg. Upon review, only one species fit its appearance.

“Is that a dragon egg?” Twilight asked. For what possible reason could such a thing be present?

“Yes, it is,” the center judge replied with some surprise. He was an old stallion with a small white beard growing from his jaw. His dark gray coat did nothing to help him look younger, nor did his weary smile. No doubt he’d been worn down from dealing with more foals than anypony his age should. “I’m glad to see an applicant who’s so knowledgeable.”

Twilight quickly offered her thanks for the compliment.

“I am Dean Weatherby,” the stallion continued. “This year’s practical exam is for you to hatch this dragon egg.”

Twilight stood struck speechless.

“Not all applicants are successful, and not all successful applicants will successfully hatch their egg. If their written exams are outstanding.”

Eyes narrowing in suspicion, Twilight’s gaze turned toward her exam. Not all applicants successfully hatch the egg? How about, ‘no applicants are successful.’ Hatching a dragon egg is hard enough, and I can already tell that they have additional spells preventing it.

“That said, do try your best. Your brother was very talented and spoke highly of you, so we expect great things from you as well.”

Well, that certainly makes a filly less nervous. Twilight breathed deep as Cadance had taught her minus the arm movements to keep herself centered.

“You have up to twenty minutes to try any approach you wish. You may begin.”

With permission given, Twilight set to work. Not by casting spells, of course. That would be daft. She already knew that wasn’t the point of this exam. The question then became what was?

All right, it’s obvious they don’t expect anypony to actually hatch the egg. They probably don’t even have a backup since they’re doing the practicals one at a time. So what do they want to see? Creative approaches? Raw power? Knowledge that this shouldn’t be possible? Maybe some combination of the three? Do they want me to try even knowing?

I suppose I should at least see what spells they put on the egg before I make any hasty decisions.

Twilight sat down next to the egg and directed small-scale probing spells at it. After a few minutes of sitting completely still staring at it and having done nothing apparently interesting – for the proctors were not yet monitoring what spells she was using – her audience looked a bit bored. Dean Weatherby, she noticed, gave them a stern glare but proved unable to get them to focus on her after a long day of examinations.

Not that it mattered. Most of her worries and respect for them flew out the window as Twilight pieced together the information her probing spells gave her.

This is some of the laziest spellcraft I have ever seen. I suppose I can’t expect anypony my age to notice, let alone be able to pick it apart, but still. I’m insulted. They could have at least tried. What if somepony actually managed to hatch the egg and mother or father a dragon? I can only imagine what…

What if that pony was me? The only worry is that pesky time limit. I’m not strong enough to brute force this.

Weatherby watched his current examinee with a careful eye. The filly hadn’t yet done anything particularly interesting. She’d kept herself busy attempting something so far, but her magical output had been too low to affect the egg in the slightest. Perhaps she had a smaller than average pool to draw from for her age. It would certainly explain her hesitance to make any larger scale attempt.

Still, this Twilight Sparkle was the younger sister of perhaps the school’s best student in recent years. While Weatherby would not dream of judging a candidate by their family or their connections, he could make predictions. It certainly helped her case that her genius older brother had, on far more than one occasion, referred to her as the family prodigy.

A glint came into Twilight’s eye. Weatherby, who had decades of experience dealing with trouble making foals, noticed it immediately while his fellow proctors watched on unaware. He channeled magic into his horn and investigated her activities without interfering. The moment the results came back, they staggered him so hard that he almost feared a heart attack.

She’s picking at the protection spells’ weak points! She’s already knocked out two of them! That shouldn’t be possible. How is she… A few quick spells gave Weatherby all the information he needed. I see. I’ll need to have a talk with Prism later about quality spellcraft on exam materials.

Weatherby watched Twilight pick away another pair of spells from the egg in less than a minute.

Dear Celestia, that filly is talented. She’ll have them all off a few minutes before time is called at this rate.

Weatherby considered how he should respond to this revelation. He could call the test, just in case. There really was no need to continue. But at the same time, his curiosity compelled him. He had to know how far Twilight could get. The foals at his school caused all manner of trouble and wacky hijinks – most of which he secretly laughed at as he scolded the perpetrators – but this one promised to take the cake. He could just imagine the priceless expressions he’d see when he told the other proctors what the little filly was doing while they sat bored and mostly ignoring her. Ah, it would be glorious.

Weatherby was finally called back to the room from his imaginings, much to his regret, when Twilight stomped the ground in apparent frustration. Quickly checking the clock, he noticed he’d let ten minutes pass by while he’d laughed at his thoughts and colleagues.

Twilight shifted her weight lower to the ground and pointed her horn directly at the egg. It seemed somepony had placed a particularly good protective spell on it. Reaching out with his senses, Weatherby probed the magic surrounding Twilight to determine what was giving her so much trouble. It might turn out to be a weakness they’d have to incorporate into her lesson plan. All he found, however, was raw magical power. It poured forth from her horn at a shocking rate for a pony so young. What could she possibly–

No… The faint hint of worry set it. She couldn’t already be…

With an encroaching panic, Weatherby checked the egg posthaste to determine what spells were left on it. Finding none, he jumped out of his chair and startled the other proctors who’d finally begun paying attention to Twilight – Twilight, but not the egg.

“Wait!”

Twilight stomped the ground as hard as she could. It would do nothing useful, but it released a bit of her irritation. She’d removed the last spell – far ahead of her original estimated time, in fact – and started pushing raw magic into the egg. She’d known going into this that dragon eggs required a notorious amount of magic to hatch, but this was ridiculous. She’d been at this for well over a minute now. If she were any other foal, she’d have long since collapsed from exhaustion.

Why! Don’t! You! Hatch!

The egg, of course, had no answer for her.

Fine! I’ll put everything I have into you, and forget how tired it makes me!

Centering herself, Twilight lowered her horn to aim straight at her target. No fancy tricks. No control. Just power. She thought she heard somepony shout something, but it was too early for time to be called, so she ignored it. Instead, she threw as much magic as she possibly could into the dragon egg. The stress on her horn was outrageous, far beyond anything she’d ever experienced before. It almost felt like it was breaking, but her determination to see this to the end got her through the pain. She bit her tongue to keep herself from screaming as her magic and her will both began to waver. With a quick breath, she put what remained of herself into one last push.

*crack*

The world stopped.

Everypony heard it, the sound of an eggshell splitting.

Seconds passed in silence, broken only by further cracks and snaps from the new life escaping its confinement. After a full minute went by, the newly born dragon rolled out of its egg. It yawned, unconcerned with the weight of its birth, before settling down for a nap.

As if to punctuate this event, a deafening boom resounded with no discernible source. A small wave of power came with the noise. The incompatible magic irritated Twilight’s horn after the abuse she’d put it through. She was, at this point, nearly ready to pass out from the combined magical exhaustion and physical trauma.

On her last breath, Twilight struggled to sit up from where she’d collapsed. She stammered out, “There. I did it. Now don’t give any – any impossible – tests any – anymore,” before falling back onto her barrel and letting herself lose consciousness.

Weatherby sat with his fellow proctors, patiently waiting to continue deciding which applicants they would accept and which they would be forced to turn away. As usual, their headmare had joined them. Princess Celestia took it as her personal responsibility to make sure merit and ability were always the deciding factors at her school. Not as usual, she’d shown up late today, thus the delay while she quickly reviewed every decision made prior to her arrival with disturbing speed, as if shedding any pretense of mortality the alicorn put on to keep her subjects at ease in her presence.

First, she reviewed the rejections. Weatherby could see the hurt every time his princess had to agree with the verdict and wondered why she subjected herself to this and wouldn’t simply trust his judgment. It would be so much easier for everypony involved. As the Dean of Students, admissions was part of his job. Besides, she’d only overruled a rejection he’d made once in his five decades of service for one Sunset Shimmer. He knew better than to gloat after what that mare had done, but he still wanted to even a decade later.

After she finished reviewing the rejections, Princess Celestia moved on to the accepted applicants. Each appeared to heal some of the hurt, although not all.

Then finally, once Princess Celestia had caught up, the meeting continued. They were about halfway through the stack of hopefuls, and although Weatherby was eager to see how she would react to the one at the very bottom, they proceeded at their usual careful mortal pace.

Each application came and went. As much as Weatherby hated to admit it, few, if any, of his possible students showed real potential. But this wasn’t Princess Celestia’s School for Future Legendary Mages, so he admitted many of them anyway. Not every pony needed to be a great hero or the next Star Swirl the Bearded to do some good in the world.

Finally, at long last, they reached the bottom of the pile. “So,” said Weatherby. “Does anypony have any objections to Twilight Sparkle?”

Nopony said a word, but Princess Celestia’s brow noticeably furrowed to everypony’s surprise except Weatherby. He’d spent enough time in his very long life with her to see her drop the eternally calm smile she wore like a dress.

“Dean Weatherby?” Princess Celestia began.

“Yes?” Weatherby responded, thinking, This is going to be good.

“One of my guards is Shining Armor, and I often hear him speak of his sister and how gifted she is. I see that she even managed a perfect score on the written exams. But please tell me why the only comment on her practical section is ‘a mother’.”

“Oh, I’d have expected you to know by now if Shining Armor won’t stop talking about her,” Weatherby began with a playful delight he’d not had a chance for in years. “It’s recent, however, so I can understand if you haven’t heard, but she is a mother.”

“Please elaborate on how an eight-year-old filly manages to give birth to anything.”

“It’s not as difficult as it sounds. All you need is a dragon egg.”

Princess Celestia’s blank look was priceless. Weatherby had seen her in several odd situations she was no doubt glad were not public, but this was the first time she appeared completely lost for words.

“Did you change the practical exam without notifying me?”

“Nope.”

“So you’re saying–”

“She stripped off the protections and hatched it properly, yes.”

Princess Celestia opened her mouth and then shut it again, words failing her once more. Finally, she said, “Please reject Twilight.”

“Excuse me?” Weatherby said incredulously, accompanying the gasps and cries of anger from the rest of the room. “Why on Equus would we do that?”

“Because there’s no class we can put her in that could possibly keep pace with her.”

“You can’t tell her to teach herself!”

“Of course not.” Princess Celestia smiled again, but unlike the usual one, Weatherby noted that this instance was expectant and eager.

Miss Twilight Sparkle,

Please excuse the hoofwritten letter. I fear we don’t have a standard response printed for your case. I very much regret to inform you that Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns is unable to accept you as a student despite your outstanding written and practical examinations.

That said, another offer is being prepared for you (if you have not already received it by mail) that you should find very exciting.

Twilight hadn’t even finished the letter from Dean Weatherby before she decided that this was, in fact, the worst day of her life. She’d been so sure she’d not only passed both exams but even outsmarted the proctors on the practical portion. She’d even gotten her starburst cutie mark in the process, the very symbol of magic! It’s appearance had been expected someday but still exciting. Now it felt like a brand marking her as a failure at the one thing she was supposed to be good at.

But surely it counted for something. She had potential, at least, right? She must. She had to. It was destiny! Something else must have gone wrong.

Is it because I passed out at the end of the practical? Are they upset that I actually hatched the dragon? What about the taunt? I remember saying something rude, but I don’t remember what.

It became all too clear that there were far too many reasons they could give for failing her.

Twilight tried to convince herself that this other offer was something to look forward to – and she was confused they were even bothering – but she wasn’t able to keep up the sheer optimism required for more than a few seconds.

Night Light and Velvet looked on sadly, but apparently neither could think of the right words to say. “Twilight,” the latter hazarded, “I know this meant a lot to you, but they did say they were preparing something special for you. I’m sure it’s something good.”

“Your mother’s right. It was even hoofwritten. That has to mean something.”

“I already know that,” Twilight whimpered. “I know. I just… I think I need to be alone for a while.”

Night Light and Velvet looked to each other and then sighed. The few times they’d tried to force her to open up early had not ended well, and Twilight was sure that by now they knew she could deal with this on her own.

“We understand,” Velvet said, an actually understanding tone, not one resigned to the inevitable, hanging in her voice. It was just what Twilight wanted to hear. “Just try not to cry your heart out too much.”

“Thank you,” Twilight mumbled as she left for her room.

Dear Twilight Sparkle,

I hope this letter reaches you before the one from Dean Weatherby. He likes to play pranks, and I would hate to cause you any undue distress. If not, I apologize for the delay.

Every year I admit young ponies to my school who could do better in a less structured environment (your brother was one of them). In an ideal world, each student’s curriculum would be fully individualized with hoofpicked instructors. Sadly, the funding required for such a school would be astronomical. While I do mint the money, I am certainly not made of it!

Now as I was saying, you have clearly demonstrated magical talent and a gift for learning far beyond my school’s ability to nurture. Should you choose to attend it (or any other), I suspect the teaching curriculum would constantly constrain you. This would, at best, frustrate you as you continue your own private studies or, at worst, destroy your potential. I would not see your talent lost to the bureaucracies necessary to run a school or a country.

As such, although it has been well over three centuries since I last accepted a personal student, I would be honored if you would permit me to instruct you personally. If I have erred in my opinion on your wishes, I will arrange for you to attend my school (or any other of your choice) instead should you desire. You need not be concerned for my feelings on the matter. However, I do hope you accept my offer.

A few particulars to note. Due to my dense and erratic schedule, I would require that you live in the castle with me. I suspect neither of us would be satisfied or happy if I had to send for you at random for lessons. It will, of course, be permitted for you to leave to visit family and for family to come visit you. If your parents have any objections, we can try to arrange something else. However, if so, you may wish to remind them that your brother would be nearby often.

Lastly, although I doubt that this is close to your mind right now, any choice you make will be fully funded.

P.S. Rumor has it you got your cutie mark during your practical exam. Congratulations!

With flickering, unstable magic, Twilight read the letter from Princess Celestia.

Well over three centuries? My school? C-could it be? T-this is!

Night Light and Velvet grew increasingly worried as Twilight read more of the letter, her face contorting in odd ways they were unable to place. Both were thinking the exact same thing: What could possibly be written in that, and why didn’t we read it first?

Finally Twilight fainted on the spot and dropped her letter.

“Twilight!” The pair called out together.

Night Light rushed to grab his daughter in his arms. While they were not unskilled with magic, telekinesis especially, and though it would have been better to catch her so, neither parent’s reflexes were hooked up to their horn the way their daughter’s was. Even so, he managed to catch her and laid her down gently on the sofa. Both wished to have paid more attention in their basic medical magic class. Fainting was easy to reverse in theory. One merely had to know what spell to cast.

“What could possibly…” Velvet began, picking up and reading the letter.

Soon after, she fainted too.

This time Night Light was ready and managed to gently lower Velvet to the floor with telekinesis. Concern lined his face.

Is the letter dangerous? I don’t notice any spells active on it, and I don’t think any triggered when they fainted. They’re both okay, for certain definitions of okay. There’s no ongoing spells on them. At least none that I can detect. Curious, he brought the letter up from the floor to eye level.

And soon, he, too, fainted with nopony to catch him.

“Hey, everypony!” Shining shouted as he stormed through his family’s front door. “I hear my LSBFF is depressed! Well, I know just what to–” He stopped to observe the two bodies on the ground and one on the sofa only to then remind himself that he was off duty. They were ponies, not bodies. “Why is everypony sleeping on the floor?”

Shining noticed a dropped letter nearby and picked it up.

“Is this the culprit? Seems ordinary enough.”

He read through the letter and laughed.

“If you’re defeated by something like this, you’d never make it in the Royal Guard, much less as the vice-captain.”

After putting down the letter, Shining carried the three sleeping ponies to their beds with a wish in his heart.

I hope Twily will need some royal guarding.

Author's Notes:

A brief note on the pony calender. I am working with the following scheme:

5 days to the week.3 weeks to the moon.7 moons to the season.4 seasons (spring, summer, fall, winter) to the year.The solstices and equinoxes occur at the beginning of the relevant seasons (not the middle; that was a typo if you read that before).The year starts at the summer solstice.

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Revision Notes - July 10th (2020)

Chapter One - Archmage

“Where he failed, I will succeed! Mark this day, this hour, this minute, for it will echo in eternity!”

A small burst of green flame erupted from Spike along with a letter. A few nearby guards reflexively ran for their lives before realizing that the castle’s resident dragon had his fiery breath under control this time. They returned to their posts soon enough, but it still irritated him. He hadn’t set anything important on fire in forever.

At any rate, while Spike had planned to hang out with his cousin, Flurry Heart, he figured it was getting late and he should probably deliver the letter. Twilight’s bizarre sleep schedule should have her awake right now and at home in their tower. He could visit his extended family another time.

After trekking through most of Canterlot Castle, stopping only briefly for a snack at the kitchens and small talk with one of the guards posted outside, Flash Sentry, Spike came to the base of the massive staircase that led up to his home. Twenty stories was a long climb made even longer for Spike, who lacked long pony legs. He never made it more than twice a day if he could avoid it, once down and then once back up.

Today seemed to be a bit different, however. Spike wondered if he’d taken a wrong turn towards some other ridiculously long staircase. If not, then some statue appeared to have been erected in the middle of the steps today for no particular reason. It was made of a dark brown stone and depicted a fancy-looking pony climbing the stairs, frozen mid-step.

On second thought, that stone smells an awful lot like–

Spike’s world inverted briefly as the pull of a teleport brought him from the fourth flight all the way up into the vestibule of his home. There Twilight fumed in her own mostly controlled way in the next room over, but he felt he should say something about what he’d just seen even if it upset her further.

“Mom,” Spike began, earning a glare from Twilight. “Err, I know you’re feeling a bit stressed–”

“A bit?” Twilight all but shouted.

“Okay, maybe really stressed. But you went overboard there.”

“Overboard! I’m fed up with those useless nobles bothering me for favors. I’ve barely even been back in the country for a few days, and they’re already banging down my door. I took the archmage position and everything else she offloaded onto me to help Celestia, not so I could help the rabble solve their petty problems in their petty games. I have more important things to do than social calculus.”

Twilight wasn’t even bothering to look at Spike anymore. Now that she’d vented, all was right with her world. Or at least he assumed so. It was sometimes hard to tell with her. She’d already returned to whatever research she’d been working on, at any rate, flipping through pages of books at a speed that disturbed nearly everyone who saw it. That usually meant she’d found some peace of mind.

Not quite ready to drop the subject, however, Spike approached his mother’s desk across the room. “You know, you can just teleport them away before they get here.” It was her typical response when she wanted solitude. “That poor stallion didn’t deserve to be encased in solid chocolate and left there to melt.”

Twilight took a deep breath and then exhaled a moment later while rubbing her cheeks. She didn’t put down her work, but her expression softened. “You’re right, Spike. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” Spike knew her last field mission had tired Twilight mentally, if not magically or physically, but he’d not yet managed to get her to tell him why.

“That’s sweet, but I don’t think a good mother should dump her problems on her son. It should be the other way around.”

Spike noticed that Twilight had never actually said no. It was the kind of detail one had to learn to spot with a pony like her raising you. He blamed Princess Celestia for that, who was even worse.

“Do you want to anyways?” Spike asked.

“Yes.”

Spike sighed. That was, technically, not the right question to get a proper answer either. He tried again. “Are you going to?”

“No.”

Spike facepalmed, a habit he’d picked up from his mother. “Fine. I have another letter for you.”

Twilight’s eye twitched, her attention now fully on Spike. “It’s not from my parents, is it?”

“Do you want me to just throw it in the fire?”

“No, I’ll read it. But if it’s more pressure to get married – I mean, they already have a grandfoal from both Shining and I, and I have no problem being a single parent.”

Twilight levitated the letter away from Spike’s grasp and tore it open. Reading through it with superpony speed nearly on par with Princess Celestia, she burnt it to ash within ten seconds, seven of those seconds being composed solely of combusting paper.

“You know what you need right now?” From experience, Spike knew there were only a rare few things which would banish his mother’s irritation completely, but some close substitutes existed.

“A few more chocolate covered nobles? They taste divine.”

“No,” Spike deadpanned. “You need to read a good story!”

A small but knowing smile crept onto Twilight’s face. “I take it you also think I would benefit from reading it aloud.”

“Well,” Spike said, drawing out the word, “it couldn’t hurt.”

Twilight acquiesced without a fight. Operation Win-Win was a resounding success. “All right, Spike, I’ll read to you until your bed time. What story do you want? More dragon tales?”

“Nah. I found an interesting old book in the library earlier.”

“Really? You’re taking an interest in dusty old books now? I’d better watch out. The world is ending.”

“It’s not a dusty old book!” Spike said. Two small puffs of flame emerged from his nose to punctuate his denial. “It’s just filled with old stories that have fallen out of the culture.”

“Oh? Now that does sound interesting.”

Spike and Twilight walked up a set of stairs to the upper floor of the tower where their bedrooms were. Entering Spike’s room, he fetched a large, and very obviously old, book from his desk and gave it to Twilight. She opened it and skimmed through the pages, presumably noting the various titles and glancing at each story at her regular inequine speed.

“Spike,” Twilight began, sitting down with him on his bed, “first, are you sure you want to hear these stories? They’re pretty far afield from your usual fare.”

He wouldn’t have bothered asking if he didn’t, so Spike nodded.

“Okay. Second – well, I suppose this should’ve come first – this book is in Middle Ponish. Did you even understand it when you picked it up?”

Spike nodded again. “It’s not that bad. Besides, you can translate it as you read.”

“Well, I guess that’s true.” Twilight took a second look at the text before nodding to herself. “Third, then. Where exactly did you get this book, when, and why did you pick it up?”

“Huh? Why do you want to know?”

“Please just tell me, Spike. You’re not in any trouble. I’m sure you’ve done nothing wrong. And if you have, well, I could let it slide this time.”

A blank check like that shocked Spike and raised more than a few red flags. Twilight had few rules as a parent. Certainly far, far fewer than Aunt Cadance and Uncle Shining had for Flurry. But what ones she did have were very strictly enforced. That said, Spike rarely found cause to complain. They mostly involved obvious things like not burning down the castle and not playing with the dangerous magical artifacts she brought home.

But this book – Spike wondered what could be so important about it for Twilight to relax her discipline. Not that she would tell him if he asked. She almost never did, and she didn’t seem nearly distracted enough right now to slip over something so obvious. He would, however, have plenty of time to think about it later on his own.

“Well,” Spike began, “like I said, it was in the library. I wanted something different tonight, and that was stuffed in with all the other adventure books.”

“Do you know if this book was normally there? Or if it was shelved differently than usual?”

“Uh, can you show me the spine?” Spike glanced at the listed code and thought for a moment. A few years ago, he’d learned all of the pony-decimal system to help and impress Twilight. Even now, he licked his lips remembering the moment when she’d found out. His reward had been given a jewel-encrusted jewel and an almost embarrassing amount of praise and affection. “Yeah, now that I think about it. But not by much. Maybe a few shelves over at most.”

“Thanks,” Twilight said, rubbing Spike’s head. “Now, which story do you want to hear first?”

“The one with the alicorns.” Spike nestled comfortably in between Twilight’s arms against her chest.

“All right. Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria, there were two regal sisters…”

Twilight closed the storybook and tucked Spike into bed. He’d only managed to get to the climactic battle between the sun and moon alicorns before he fell asleep, which was rather unfortunate, at least in her opinion. There was nothing worse than an unfinished story, especially one at its climax.

Even so, Twilight had no inclination to wake him up. Despite being a mere eight years younger than her, Spike was barely an elementary schooler by pony standards. A relatively mature and responsible one, sure, but he still needed his sleep.

Really, it was somewhat of a mixed blessing. Dragons aged very slowly and, as far as ponies knew, never died of old age. On one hoof, Spike’s slow aging had given her time to grow up before he did. She’d thus had the privilege to be Spike’s real mother rather than just the pony who hatched him. Her own family hadn’t been happy about that in the beginning, but she’d never regretted that decision, and she never would.

But on the other hoof, while she could easily stretch her own lifespan into Spike’s teenage years and even adulthood, Twilight only had a few centuries in her at best. It was such a tiny fraction of his life expectancy. She’d barely see a fraction of what he would do with it unless she took drastic measures. Of course, she had every intention of taking drastic measures with or without Spike to justify them, but this way she at least had an excuse if she accidentally killed herself in the attempt.

Breaking her attention away from her beloved son, Twilight teleported into the castle’s library with Spike’s book held in her magic. Tonight, she had more important things to do than wallow in such far-off concerns.

Inhaling deeply, the scent of paper and mystery greeted Twilight as she walked through the sprawling Canterlot Archives. Her worries fell away as she came home. Bookshelves towered over her endlessly into the distance, each neatly filled with rows upon rows of books. Rumor had it that the archives were truly endless in their depths. Sadly, this was not true. She’d been to the every corner. The archives were simply always exactly as big as they needed to be to contain every book, journal, record, report, and newspaper within them.

Ah, Spike was right. A good story laced with secrets was just what I needed, a legitimate reason to ignore my work and put together the pieces of a puzzle. I’m getting shivers just thinking about it. Still, this is probably the most heavy-hoofed ancient puzzle I’ve ever seen. It’ll probably only be good for tonight. I mean, seriously, this is just lazy.

Twilight entered the history section and tore down the few books she knew about that covered the Discordian Era. The restricted section of the archives held a few more, but the time before and during Discord’s reign might as well not exist with how little remained of it to study.

Hey kids, let’s hear a story about two alicorn sisters. One controls the moon and the other the sun. What’s that? No, of course not. There’s no way the sun alicorn is Celestia. What would even make you think that?

Now in the section on legends and myths – disturbingly close to the history section – Twilight collected any and all books dating before the year three hundred on the modern calendar. She quickly flipped through a copy of Predictions and Prophecies, which she vaguely recalled containing a reference to the Elements of Harmony.

What’s this? A prophecy stating the moon alicorn will return in a thousand years on the summer solstice to bring about night eternal? What’s that? You want to know what year it is? Well, it’s one thousand, of course. Yes, we one-index our calendar. Yeah, the sun alicorn didn’t want to forget when her sister was due home.

Taking nearly a hundred books with her, Twilight headed toward the restricted section to start reading.

Hmm… I wonder if I should just skip this step. Dealing with evil goddesses is usually a high urgency task, and we only have a little more than two moons before the solstice.

It did seem as though Twilight could just bring her concerns straight to Celestia and start demanding answers. The story she’d read to Spike alone was filled with an egregious number of hints and clues just begging for somepony to notice. She could barely imagine a world in which it hadn’t been purposefully planted to get her attention.

But Twilight still remembered the last time she’d jumped to conclusions. It’d been nearly nine years ago now. She’d accused Cadance of being an impostor at her wedding rehearsal. In the end, it’d all come down to a confluence of issues. Twilight had barely settled into her role as the archmage at the time and had desperately needed sleep. Cadance had been stressed beyond the breaking point and experiencing mood swings. And Shining had been occupied with security arrangements. The whole family laughed about it now, but it was a hard learned lesson nonetheless. From that day on, Twilight never made any accusations without solid proof.

Heh. Oh, would I have egg on my face if I barged into Celestia’s room and discovered this was just a foals’ story after all. She would tease me about that forever. Perhaps literally, even.

But still. Just look at this story. It’s so manufactured. Twilight held up a series of books each containing the same story as it evolved over the centuries. These older versions are obviously being steered towards the one I read to Spike. They never take a step backward. They never take a step sideways. Once a change is made, it’s made.

Wow, this one even explicitly names the alicorns as Celestia and Nightmare Moon.

Oh, this one’s interesting. Discord was defeated by Celestia and her sister, Luna. With…the Elements of Harmony? That’s new. How old is this? Twilight flipped to the front page only to be disappointed. No date, eh? Well that’s fine. I can estimate when it was published based on how it compares to the other stories. Here’s one with a date that refers to a Princess Luna.

Twilight paused as a thought occurred to her. You know, now that I think of it, I always took it for granted that Celestia calling herself a diarch meant that the ponies were her co-ruler or something. That or maybe the senate. I mean, she won’t even stand to be addressed as a queen. The whole princess thing is just silly.

Well anyway, I suppose this is enough information to turn my wild accusations into regular accusations. I knew this wouldn’t take that long.

Twilight glanced at a nearby clock in the windowless room. Judging by the time, the sun should have set long ago and wouldn’t be up again for several hours, which meant Celestia was likely snoozing away to get up early to raise the sun.

Cursed short summer nights.

The fact that alicorns slept at all was intriguing, considering how little Twilight herself chose to indulge. Celestia disliked the term, but any way an unbiased pony looked at it, she was a physical goddess far beyond mortal limits. But of greater importance at the moment, Twilight had learned firsthoof that sleeping alicorns should be left as just that. No amount of friendship, or position, or urgency would change that fact. Granted she only had one data point, but she’d assumed for years that there was only one to be had. It had therefore been a proof by exhaustion that all alicorns should not be woken up early. But now, it seemed, there was a second data point to consider.

I suppose ending an evil moon goddess’s banishment early counts as waking her up. That would also be bad.

Now that she was finished with her task, Twilight paused to consider what she should do with the rest of her night. She probably should get back to her regular work as the archmage and the half-dozen other titles she held, but right now she had the perfect opportunity to remain ‘researching’ a threat to Equestria if she could find anything even marginally related.

I think I remember a scroll or two by a Luna in Celestia’s book hoard. What was it called again?

Twilight taxed her magically enhanced memory for the obscure title. She kept telling herself to spend more time with Celestia’s secret stash of books, but between Spike, her duties, and her research, she never got around to it.

Oh, yes. It was Entering the Dream Realm. That sounds very, very sinister. Yes, I’ll just have to give it a read to determine if it’s relevant or not.

Twilight glanced up from Luna’s ancient book – surprisingly a book, not a scroll – and noticed the sun had somehow risen while she’d been reading and was about to set again.

Uttering a curse upon herself, Twilight placed a bookmark and deposited Entering the Dream Realm into her subspace storage, or simply her bag of holding as it was commonly known despite the lack of any kind of bag being involved in the process. Items simply appeared from and disappeared into empty space on demand. She blamed Ogres and Oubliettes for the popular misnomer.

Of course, Twilight had no need for bookmarks, but she liked placing them all the same. There was something deeply satisfying when she looked at a stack of books and could see her progress in them all at once.

As for the book itself, Entering the Dream Realm was fascinating. Although she could imagine Luna’s writing would usually be seen as beyond salvation, Twilight felt a kindred spirit in how succinctly she phrased everything. Instruction manuals should be as short as possible without loss of clarity. Unfortunately, that level of density required a lot more effort to understand and prevented her from rocketing through the text as she normally would. She barely made it through the first three chapters in sixteen hours, and there were five more left unexplored.

There was good news, however. Luna had placed all of the critical information at the front and left all of the applications for the end. Apparently, everypony had their own special world they could enter from their dreams with enough practice. Twilight wasn’t yet sure exactly what made it so special, but she was eager to find out. The first step required her to learn to lucid dream, a task to which the entire second chapter was dedicated. It largely consisted of small habits she could incorporate into her daily life that would help her distinguish dreams from reality, little things she could do – and most assuredly intended to do – without drawing attention to herself.

About to teleport as near to Celestia’s room as she could, Twilight suddenly remembered something important she had completely forgotten.

“Spike!”

Twilight altered the destination of her teleport to her tower. Her protective wards recognized her and permitted her entry. From the kitchen, she heard Spike making supper. Based on the crackling noises, he was likely roasting something with his own fire despite her explicitly telling him not to do so at least a hundred times.

Unless he was cooking at Prince Blueblood’s manor. Then he was both permitted and encouraged.

Heading into the kitchen, Twilight came face to face with Spike holding an incriminating, smoking meal on a stick. He glanced back and forth between Twilight a pile of similar evidence on the counter nearby.

Hesitantly, Spike held forth the latest kebab and asked, “Hungry?”

As she still felt guilty about being gone all day without a word, Twilight took the offered meal and sampled it.

“This is pretty good.”

Spike looked hopefully at Twilight.

“But you’re still in trouble.” She took a few more bites. Having absentmindedly skipped breakfast and lunch, the first bite had made her realize she was starving. “Now tell me why you’re in trouble. Again.”

“Ugh,” Spike groaned. He then droned off the mantra Twilight always hoped would one day become instinctual. “Because even if the castle is fireproof, it’s not dragonfire-proof. But–”

“And how many walls had to be rebuilt the last time the castle caught fire?”

Spike mumbled something incoherent.

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Twenty-seven,” Spike said meekly.

“And how many needed replacing anyway?”

“Argh!” Spike threw his arms up in a huff. “Negative three.”

“Right. We had to build three new walls because someone damaged the foundation.” She didn’t like being so harsh, but Twilight had learned her own hard lessons about dragonfire at his age which she didn’t want him to repeat anymore than absolutely necessary. “Now ask yourself what happens if this tower catches fire.”

“It…falls down and sets everything else on fire.”

“Exactly. Try to remember that right away next time. And no, that doesn’t mean it’s okay to roast food elsewhere in the castle without either me or Celestia supervising.”

Motioning for him to do the same, Twilight took a seat and finished off the kebab Spike had given her. She grabbed another and polished it off in the time it took Spike to get through half of one. Dragon roasted vegetables were delicious, she had to admit, and she really did need the food.

With the short down time to think, Twilight toyed with a hypothesis she’d developed years ago. Spike so rarely broke any of her other rules. Why always this one? Perhaps it was an instinct of some sort to cook with his own flame. Both of them regrettably knew far too little about dragons as they tended to be a diverse and reclusive species with whom ponies had little contact. Even Celestia, with all her experience, wasn’t much help.

Regardless, Twilight didn’t have the time to deal with this right now. She gestured to the dwindling pile of kebabs between her and Spike. “We’ll discuss this more later. I have to eat and run to catch Celestia before she goes to bed. Do you need anything before I go?”

Spike shook his head once he’d taken a few seconds to consider her question.

“All right. I’m sorry I wasn’t around at all today. I got caught up in a research project. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After a quick hug, Twilight teleported to the base of the her tower’s staircase. It was a short walk from there to Celestia’s room through several wards that prevented teleportation. Unlike her tower, where anypony could come and go if one knew the correct magical key to gain access, Celestia’s room was completely locked down from everypony.

Everypony except Celestia herself. Somehow, she managed to completely ignore the teleportation blocks with a modified version of the spell. Twilight had no idea how it worked or how to cast it even after having seen it hundreds of times. All she knew was that it dissolved Celestia into light and that her mentor always evaded giving an explanation.

The former was not particularly unusual. Teleport signatures varied from pony to pony. Twilight’s own had originally been purple and red colored sparkles until she’d eliminated those defects – along with a few others – years ago.

The latter, however, was highly irregular. Celestia had only ever refused to answer two other questions Twilight had posed to her. The first was reasonably understandable. With Twilight’s parents more or less out of the picture during her early teenage years, she’d walked right up to Celestia and asked for an explanation of sex.

Apparently, centuries of life did not dull a pony’s sensitivity to the subject around curious foals.

To this day, Twilight maintained that the entire disaster hadn’t been her fault. She’d tried to find out the answer on her own, but the Canterlot Archives’ librarians had been dead set on preventing her from obtaining any relevant information. It’d clearly been a conspiracy.

The other question was perhaps worse. “Why are you the only alicorn?” In hindsight, Twilight probably should have known that would be a bad question to ask for many, many reasons, but now she knew why. Celestia was not the only alicorn.

The two royal guards posted outside Celestia’s chambers saluted Twilight as she approached.

“Is Princess Celestia in?”

“Not at this time, Archmage Twilight. She’s currently indisposed but will return within a quarter hour.”

“Very well. I shall wait inside then.”

The grand double doors parted to permit Twilight entry. The room was as sparse as usual, reflecting how rarely Celestia used it for anything other than sleeping. A huge cloud bed easily capable of fitting four ponies her size lay in the center of the room. A few other fixtures were spread here and there, most merely decorative. She stored the vast majority of her treasure hoard in the doubly restricted section of the library, which only she and Twilight had access to, in the treasury, or held securely in her own bag of holding.

Passing on the room’s relatively uncomfortable chairs, Twilight fell onto Celestia’s bed, a fluffy haven of pure delight somehow even softer yet more supportive than her own. Celestia had told her on one of the many occasions they’d slept together when she was still a filly that the cloud-walking spell would never – could never – do a cloud bed justice. One had to be a pegasus to truly appreciate them.

This was objectively nonsense. How could a pony be more relaxed than she felt right now? She’d lose herself and become a cloud if that were possible. She should prepare herself for Celestia’s arrival, but surely nopony would be hurt if she indulged herself for a few minutes.

Twilight awoke from a weird nightmare, one more surreal than scary, to the gentle nuzzles of Celestia. The alicorn lay curled up on the bed next to her and, presumably, had been the pony who’d draped a blanket over her and placed a pillow under her head.

“Mmm…” Twilight hummed drowsily, rubbing her eyes with her magic. “What are you doing here?”

“I think I could ask you the very same question. This is highly inappropriate. If you want to spend the night together, you should bring Spike with you.”

A few sleepy moments and blank stares later, Twilight realized that she’d fallen asleep in Celestia’s room rather than her own.

“Oh. That’s not why I’m here.” Although that did sound nice. It’d been some time since their last sleepover.

Celestia sighed and let her head and neck rest on her bed. “Such a shame. I miss the company.” Her horn lit up, and a framed photo floated across the room to her. It depicted a little ball of lavender fluff latched onto her in this very bed. “You were so cute when you were young. You still are, of course, but all that wide-eyed innocence is gone.”

“I’m not cute,” Twilight muttered.

“Yes you are,” Celestia insisted, unabashed. “When was the last time you slept properly?”

Twilight arched an eyebrow at the seemingly random question. Nonetheless, she pulled a watch from her bag of holding. “It’s only been twenty-eight hours. I’m still good for a while yet.”

“Your adorable little snores from only a few moments ago say otherwise.”

Twilight facehoofed. She’d tried so hard to kick the habit over the years, but it never went away. Even Spike had caught the infection.

“Spend the night, Twilight. For old times’ sake.”

“I’m not a filly anymore.”

“Of course not,” Celestia said indulgently as the words passed in one ear and out the other.

In the face of this willing ignorance, Twilight heaved an exasperated sigh. “You’re acting unusually nostalgic this evening. Something you want to tell me?”

“Nothing in particular comes to mind.”

“Really?” Twilight pressed. “Nothing at all?”

Her head cocked to the side, Celestia gave Twilight a curious look.

In response, Twilight summoned Spike’s storybook from her bag of holding. She spoke over Celestia’s surprise. “Let’s start with why you never told me about your sister, Luna. A sister, I might add, who is due to return in about two moons and who, in the very best case scenario, just wants to kill you. In the worst case scenario, she’s completely insane from a thousand years of solitary confinement in banishment and wants to destroy the world. I reluctantly admit I don’t know how long an alicorn can endure isolation, but I’d be willing to bet the crazy sets in just as quickly as it does for any other pony.”

Twilight raised a hoof to keep Celestia from interrupting. “After that you can detail your big plan to me. I know every single magical artifact in the vault by heart, and we do not have these Elements of Harmony. And don’t tell me you plan to fight your sister alone, because it sounds an awful lot like she can kick you to the curb any day of the week without them.

“And then we can discuss why you felt the need to have Spike bring this book to my attention by misshelving it instead of just talking to me directly. Oh, and don’t tell me your grand design is to let your archmage stumble onto this book, go on a random quest, and figure everything out herself, because you’ve had a thousand years to get on this.”

Thus Twilight finished her speech. Celestia had gone from smile to frown nearly instantly, but by its end she wore an expression of weary grief more than any other emotion. On her advice that this would take a while, the two mares made themselves comfortable on the bed.

“That book is easiest to explain. Or rather the story within it. To be perfectly frank,” Celestia said, “the last time I saw or even thought of it must have been…at least a century ago. However you stumbled upon it, my hoof was not at work.”

Twilight eyed Celestia suspiciously. “It would be completely in character for you to plant such a zany scheme.”

Knowing each other as well as they did, Celestia didn’t deny it. She did, however, maintain her position. “I have other plans in the works which are, as you say, in character for me. I confess to guiding the narrative of The Tale of the Royal Pony Sisters in certain directions over the centuries, but my influence ends there.”

“Let’s say I believe you.” And Twilight was leaning toward it since she didn’t see why Celestia would lie to her once called out. “That leaves me all the more concerned. Why didn’t you feel the need to talk to me about this? It’s kind of important.”

It took some more coaxing, but Celestia eventually replied, “Because I felt it best to keep you unaware of the situation.”

That stung. “Why?” Twilight asked. Her entire job description might as well read as the princess’s problem solver.

Celestia looked away and bit her lip. She then mumbled something nearly inaudible even for ponies with magically enhanced hearing.

“Please tell me you didn’t just imply some grand conspiracy to transfer power to your sister.” When no response came, Twilight lost it. “You’re kidding me! You’ve had a thousand years! A thousand! How wasn’t that long enough to think of something?”

“Do you think I’ve not tried?” Celestia fired back. “At first, I tried polishing my martial prowess. I led armies in my sister’s place. I fought on the front lines. In the end, it only brought me the ignominy of my mere presence being classified as a war crime. You know that shame yourself.”

Personally, as much as the designation frustrated her, Twilight considered it a mark of pride to be considered as much of a threat to the world as an alicorn, but she knew better than to say as such to the ‘Sun Tyrant’.

“When that failed, I slaved away guiding civilization ever forward for a thousand years. I thought if I could only advance our magical knowledge past the point of the Discordian Collapse, I would have a chance at victory. You tell me how I did there. How far short have I fallen compared to the last artifacts and ancient tomes you unearthed?”

“We still have at least a few centuries to go,” Twilight reluctantly admitted. If this Luna would sling around spells developed before Discord appeared and destroyed civilization, the best Celestia could do was match her. And even that assumed the sisters had shared whatever knowledge of the past they’d uncovered between them. “What about the Elements?”

“Useless.” Celestia looked away in shame. Before Twilight could press for more details, she continued, “I have tried, Twilight. For so long. I-” She paused to swallow and blinked oddly. “All I can do now is give Lulu what she wanted and–” She sniffed. “–and hope it will be enough. Then maybe someday we can reconcile with one another.” Reaching out with a wing, she pulled Twilight close. “When that day comes, I hope I will find you there.”

“I – what – I…” Faced with a Celestia who wasn’t a beacon of strength and certainty, Twilight’s brain threw errors at her. “No. No, you don’t get to say goodbye like this. We’re going to solve this problem together.”

Celestia pulled Twilight tighter into their hug. “Is that really how you want to spend our remaining time?”

“No.” Twilight put her hoof down, refusing to cry. “That’s how we’re going to spend the next two moons. Then we’re gonna get drunk and do something stupid to celebrate our inevitable triumph.”

With a weak yet genuine chuckle, her chest rumbling against Twilight, Celestia asked, “Have you ever once imbibed?”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

Celestia broke their hug and offered up a smile. “Now that will be a sight worth seeing. I suppose I have no choice now.”

In the back of her mind, Twilight made a mental note to first test her alcohol tolerance in private.

“What do you want to know?” Celestia asked as she recovered her natural poise.

Twilight, having spent most of her time preparing to force a confession, didn’t really have a plan yet. Nonetheless, she had a few ideas to run past Celestia. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t we know exactly when your sister’s banishment will end and where she’ll reappear at?” Getting a nod, she continued, “Is there any reason we can’t just banish your sister again? It’s not ideal, certainly, but it would buy us time.”

“Magical banishment is resistible. It requires a direct clash of power. Without the Elements of Harmony to tip the scales, in a pure numbers check like that, neither Luna nor I would emerge victorious.”

“Fair enough.” But along the same plan of attack, Twilight asked, “Can we just blast her with a sleep spell instead?”

Celestia forced a yawn. “Excuse me. I should be in bed.” Never mind that they were in bed. “It sure would be nice if somepony could help me get to sleep.”

Rolling her eyes, Twilight fired off a rapid spell to do just that for whatever demonstration Celestia had in mind. The reaction came just as quickly. Celestia channeled less than a fraction of the absurd amount of power available to her and let it radiate out from her horn. In the overwhelming flux of magic Twilight’s spell had to pass through, it denatured and fell apart.

“That was the most artless, wasteful counterspell I’ve ever seen,” Twilight flatly observed.

“While I agree,” Celestia began, “to quote Luna, ‘Hey, it worked, didn’t it?’”

Twilight facehoofed. Great, we’re dealing with a pragmatic evil goddess.

“Luna and I have dealt with more than our fair share of…shall we say, ill-advised attempts to remove us from power. Good luck slipping any lesser magics past her guard. It’s a reflex for us.”

“Point taken.” Her next idea, Twilight would rather not suggest, but it would be remiss of her not to address it with potentially the entire world’s survival at stake. “Have you considered just, well, killing her? You know, blow her away immediately upon her return? Would that even work?”

By her guilty expression, Twilight knew the thought had crossed Celestia’s mind before. “No. Destroying an alicorn is virtually impossible.”

Twilight logged that little piece of information away to store with everything else she knew about alicorns.

“Even if I had the ability to do so, which I do not, I could never bring myself to execute her. I hate that I’ve even given the notion some thought. If anypony deserves punishment, it should be me. This entire mess is my fault.”

“How so?” That sort of claim usually came from a pony blaming herself for things beyond her control.

Celestia, in all the years they’d known each other, had never looked more uncertain or uneasy. “It was no one thing,” she began slowly, each word chosen with care. “How much do you know about Discord?”

“Uh, preferred title, Spirit of Chaos and Disharmony. Once ruled and ruined the world. Defeated by you and Luna. Decorating the castle garden as a statue. Looks weird. That’s about it.”

“And King Sombra?”

“Who?”

“The Harmonic Era?”

“More than most. Less than I should.” Twilight shrugged. The time between Discord’s fall and Luna’s banishment, which she now knew marked the beginning of the Solar Era, didn’t interest her nearly as much as Pre-Discordian times. “For some unknowable reason, that period of history isn’t well documented.”

Celestia feigned offense. “Not everything is the result of my machinations!” she said, not quite able to keep the smile off her face. “We had to rebuild civilization from nothing. We had no infrastructure. We had no written language. What records we kept were for practical purposes for centuries.”

“Fine, fine,” Twilight graciously allowed. She’d managed to bring Celestia a little cheer, which was all she’d wanted anyway.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t to last. Celestia slipped back into her melancholy soon enough. She sighed as she considered where to start. Once she had, a scowl emerged upon her face. “Discord created a disgusting spell to invert a pony’s personality. He thought it was ‘funny’.”

A deep unease settled into Twilight’s chest as her mind immediately leapt to the inevitable conclusion. If an ambitious ancient king wanted to rid the world of two goddesses, what better way than to have them destroy each other? It would have to be done slowly and subtly lest the game be given away, but it could be done. The younger sister would be the easier mark. Most ponies, especially at the time, experienced some degree of nyctophobia. It would’ve been so easy to destroy the Alicorn of the Night emotionally. Throw in a little magic, and it became foal’s play.

Were she in Sombra’s place, Twilight would have done the same.

Putting that thought aside, Twilight said, “I take it King Sombra repurposed this spell and hit Luna with it to get you two to tear each other apart.”

“As astute as ever,” Celestia said. “He managed to modify the spell so that the altered personality lingered in the background, never noticed. It implanted intrusive thoughts in the victim indistinguishable from their own.”

A shiver crept through Twilight. Mind magic had its place, but she loathed its use on the unwilling. “What happened?”

“Sombra’s patience rivaled my own. He was willing to wait decades for Luna and I to fight, ever anticipating his chance to strike. I should have caught his magic at work upon her mind. She and I watched for that sort of thing in each other. But I failed her. She found it herself eventually, and we worked together to remove it.”

Celestia’s expression, which had warped between anger to self-recrimination as she spoke, finally settled on a rather sheepish blush. “She and I…overreacted. Incidentally, Sombra and the Crystal Empire are due to return to this world in a few years. The Crystal Throne rightfully belongs to Cadance’s line. Once you topple Sombra, I would advise installing her as their princess rather than her parents.”

As if that even needed to be said. However, Twilight did have one correction to make. “I can erase that blight for you, but inheritance law is none of my business. You can deal with that mess yourself.”

Celestia’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t say a word against it.

“Anyway, do continue. The more I know about how we got to this point, the better.”

“As you wish. Sombra’s magic had further reaching consequences than we expected. Luna had developed some issues, to put it mildly. We worked through them as sisters, and for a time, things were good. We ruled together, and Equestria prospered.” For a brief moment, a warm smile emerged upon Celestia’s face as she drowned in the memory of better days. Then she sobered. “But bureaucracy never sat well with Luna. As Equestria became more and more like what it is today, she and I traded more and more responsibilities until I became the face of the nation while she worked in the background and became ever more isolated.

“I thought she was happy doing what she loved. I thought I was making her happy. And maybe I was at first. But then everything went wrong so quickly. I failed to notice my sister’s paranoia resurface or her resentment grow. It was only after she spiraled out of control when I realized how bad things had become for her. So you see, Twilight, my negligence led us to this point. It was my responsibility as her sister and her fellow diarch to look after her mental well-being, especially when I knew she had a history of magically induced disorders, and yet I failed her.”

While she certainly agreed that Celestia had some of the blame pie to eat, Twilight saw no value in pointing hooves a thousand years after the fact. Lessons had been learned, and it was time to move forward. “What about the Elements of Harmony? How did they play into this?”

“Luna and I wielded them together. We each took three for our own, and although their full strength eluded our grasp, we used them to great effect. We resorted to them more often in our early years when we knew little of magic. In my fight against Luna, I was losing, and I knew it. In desperation, I took all of the Elements for myself, bent them to my will, and overpowered her. I meant to use them to heal her madness, but I should have known better. The Elements have a mind of their own. Two ponies was never enough to wield them properly. What hope did one have?”

“Interesting…” Twilight murmured. Over the course of her tenure as the archmage, she’d developed a deep mistrust of magical artifacts with any semblance of intelligence. Too many cases of magical corruption and cultists trying to bring about the end of the world or revive some ancient monstrosity. Still, if Celestia trusted them, she would too. “So what happened to the elements? I’d be hard pressed to believe you lost them.”

“I left them in the Old Castle in the Everfree Forest under heavy wards. I wanted to bring them here, but…they dislike me now. Considering their power, I felt it better for them to fall into myth and legend.”

Well that made things easy. Twilight had worried Celestia had thrown them into an ocean trench or ordered them buried in an anonymous location even she didn’t know. “All right then. I’ll go pick them up later and see if I can get them working.”

“Twilight–”

“It won’t even be a day trip, Celestia. It’s worth looking into even if nothing comes of it.”

Celestia, however, disagreed. “It’s not a matter of time. I only want to protect you.”

With a roll of her eyes, Twilight asked, “From what?” This was far from her first rodeo.

“From Luna. If you lay claim to Magic, she might feel the need to execute you.”

Twilight quirked an eyebrow. She needed a bit more explanation than that and said as such.

“Capital m, Twilight. The Element of Magic.”

“Wait, so all I have to do to get Magic to work is lay claim to it?” Celestia confirmed the conclusion, and then before she could raise any objections, Twilight continued, “Great. That’s a sixth of the job done, then. If things don’t work out, I’ll just toss it back into the forest before your sister shows up.”

“No,” Celestia stated plainly, “you won’t.” She shifted on the bed, mulling over her next words. “Bearing an Element is…personal. One does not simply toss it aside. Even a thousand years later, I remember their call.”

“Uh, no offense,” Twilight began, “but these artifacts are sounding really shady.” They had some level of intelligence, they possessed some manner of compulsion to use them, they had immense power, and they had such a pleasant name. In any other situation, she’d have already left for the Old Castle to destroy them.

Nonetheless, the comment elicited some laughter from Celestia. “They’re harmless, I assure you, when on the right end of them.”

“Right…” That didn’t exactly improve Twilight’s impression of them. “Anyway, Magic will work for me?”

“It will,” Celestia said evasively.

Twilight immediately pressed for an explanation. “What’s the catch?”

“The other five likely won’t. You would be best off looking for five other bearers, one each for Honesty, Loyalty, Kindness, Generosity, and Laughter.”

“Doesn’t sound that hard. What’s the problem?” When Celestia continued to prevaricate, Twilight interrupted. “Just say it, whatever it is. I promise not to get mad.” She could take whatever politely worded insult Celestia would no doubt throw at her.

Resigned, Celestia sighed, “Very well,” and then finally addressed the issue at hoof. “From the very moment you first came to my attention, I intended to have you bear Magic. It will leap to your call without question. Your cutie mark all but screams your destiny at anypony willing to listen.”

Twilight glanced back at her cutie mark. At its center resided the six-pointed star, the symbol of magic. Five smaller stars encircled it, likely representing the five other Elements. How thematically on point. That little revelation certainly merited further investigation at some future point in time.

“And then I erred,” Celestia continued. “If only you had been born ten years later. I never should have made you the archmage. The position only exacerbated your worst qualities. But I was selfish. When I should have sent you away to grow, I kept you close. When I realized my mistake, I had to make a decision. Should I attempt to salvage the situation, or should I enjoy what time I had left and ease the transition of power? I chose the latter.”

“That’s…” How was one meant to respond to a confession of that magnitude? “Well, uh, while your priorities flatter me, you never precisely stated what’s wrong with me.”

Rather plainly, Celestia stated, “You have no social skills.”

“That’s not true.” While she might reasonably be labeled asocial, Twilight said, “I have social skills. I’m just…selective in when and where I apply them.”

Celestia rolled her eyes.

“Why does that even matter?”

“Because the catch, as you put it, is that the Elements require their bearers to be friends to function. The closer the better.”

A pregnant silence fell between the two.

And then Twilight admitted, “I see your point.” She’d not expected such a formidable challenge as the literal power of friendship. “Surely there’s somepony else to bear Magic.”

“Yes, I admit several other choices come to mind. But I would no sooner trust them to bear it than…” Celestia, feigning defeat by her own attempt at wordplay, said, “Why, I wouldn’t trust them to do anything at all.”

“You have to be exaggerating.”

“I wish I were,” Celestia said with no small amount of exasperation in her voice. “Something about the life of a powerful mage seems to attract only hermits and ponies with an insatiable thirst for power.”

Twilight made a loud, obnoxious sucking sound. Once her lungs were full, she let out a long, refreshed, “Aaaah…”

The jest managed to get Celestia to chuckle. “You’re the exception that proves the rule. Should you gain power equivalent to an alicorn, or even beyond, I would trust you with it.”

Twilight should have had some elegant words to express her appreciation for the sentiment, but if she did, then they were eluding her completely. Instead, she hesitantly asked, “Really?”

Just as hesitantly, Celestia nodded. “I would.”

“Short temper and snap decisions included?”

“Twilight–” Celestia reached out with a wing, tentatively at first, and then affectionately gently brushed her primaries along Twilight’s jaw. “–if I could, you would need only ask, but I can’t make you an alicorn.”

Twilight’s eyes widened as her breath caught.

“Spike… He already asked. I had to wait moons before he would talk to me again.”

Finding her voice, Twilight said, “Celestia, I – that means so much to me.” If only Celestia could. “But that honestly wasn’t what I…” And then her brain finally processed the last thing Celestia had said. “Did – did he ask you that on his birthday this year?”

Celestia nodded.

“Excuse me!” This needed to be addressed immediately. If Spike was already old enough to understand such things and act on them, Twilight needed to have a heart-to-heart with him about her secret research project. And maybe Celestia, too, given the confessions she’d been making on the alicorn equivalent of her deathbed, but Spike was much higher priority.

Twilight sprang to her hooves and leapt off the bed. Her magic already had a hold on the bedroom door with intent to open it, but Celestia’s magic caught her and brought her back.

“Believe me, Twilight, you do not want to hold a conversation about mortality with your offspring in a rush of emotion.”

The words went in one ear and out the other as Twilight struggled in Celestia’s grasp and searched her memory for an appropriate spell to secure her escape without starting a fight she knew she would lose. Quickly reaching the end of that list and coming up empty, she turned her attention to–

“Twilight Sparkle. Sit and listen.”

Emitting a frightened squeak, Twilight did as commanded out of habit when Celestia released her. The Royal Canterlot Voice always meant she was in trouble. Once she had, Celestia offered her a satisfied nod.

“Calm yourself, Twilight. Remember. In and out.”

Twilight, so prompted, ran through the soothing breathing exercise Cadance had taught her as a filly. It always helped more than it had any right to.

“Better?” Celestia asked soon enough.

Twilight nodded sheepishly.

“Good. Spike will be here tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that, and so on ad infinitum. Take your time. Now what was it you wanted to ask me?”

“Oh, uh, well, I don’t understand how you manage to, you know, exist. From the amount of power you can emit, you’re too magically dense. By all rights, you should be a lump of superdense, solidified magic at best and, at worst, you should explode and take out all of Canterlot. What’s your secret?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was a higher dimensional eldritch abomination incurring upon this smaller space, thus only seeming more dense than I truly am?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Of course not.”

“Then I have no answer for you. I don’t know how to increase magical density beyond the known limits.”

“You’re no help at all,” Twilight said with the slightest hint of a pout. “Give it some thought, if you would, in your free time. I’m working on an important project that needs it.”

Although she agreed to do so, Celestia offered a warning. “I strongly suspect this will be a fruitless area of research. And I would very much prefer not to become a lab rat.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Twilight dismissed the words with a wave of her hoof. “Putting all that aside, let’s get back to the impending return of the evil moon goddess.”

At a mutter, Celestia said, “Lulu isn’t evil.”

“Uh-huh. Anyway, will you give me a few minutes to absorb everything so far?”

Getting a nod from Celestia, Twilight turned inward and divided her thoughts into the usual three strains to debate the matter before her: Advocate to suggest ideas, Opposition to tear them apart, and Overseer to keep order.

So, Overseer began, Celestia has had a thousand years to come up with solutions. Any new ones we generate either have to hinge on relatively recent information she wouldn’t have had time to dwell upon or depend on things we know or can do but not her. I leave the floor to you two.

First, let’s identify the worst case scenario, said Opposition.

Everypony dies.

Yes, that’s real creative, Advocate. Now elaborate on that.

Okay. Luna breaks free. Banishes or kills Celestia. Kills us. Subjects the world to eternal night. Freezes it. And then everypony dies. Obviously we have to intervene before the ‘kills us’ portion of that.

What options do we have available?

The Elements of Harmony.

We’re looking for alternative solutions here. If you’re not going to offer meaningful solutions we’ll replace you with a different personality.

Overseer stepped in. No personal attacks, Opposition. We’re all the same pony here.

My point still stands.

Well… Advocate paused for a moment, hesitant to even put her idea up for debate. In the end, she decided that all paths to victory were worth at least some consideration. We could always throw away our life’s ambition and use its power source to banish Luna ourselves.

Opposition immediately rallied the full force of Twilight’s unfettered enmity against the mere notion. I fundamentally object to that unless we are, or are about to be, dead. Please come up with something we won’t regret until the end of a short, miserable life.

While I agree with the sentiment, Advocate began, couldn’t we just redevelop the power source? Solidified magic can be manufactured.

Not at the rate we would need. If we lived to three hundred and shifted the entire economy of Equestria over to producing solidified magic, we might have enough to get by with two alicorns helping and whatever boost the elements provide. Needless to say, that’s a ridiculously bad plan.

All right, point taken. The next option is we take out Luna ourselves.

Celestia is our senior in combat by centuries and far more powerful. If she can’t do it, what hope do we have?

Ah, but we have one big advantage, Advocate said smugly. We’re not her sister. If we earned Luna’s trust, we could catch her by surprise.

Opposition rolled her nonexistent eyes. Do you realize how hard that would be to catch her at the level of vulnerability we’d need? We’d have to–

The details of what exactly that would require filtered through Twilight’s mind.

Absolutely not! Opposition slammed her imaginary hooves onto an equally imaginary desk. We will not marry, seduce, or otherwise engage in intimate relations with the mad moon goddess.

It was only an idea, Advocate mumbled.

The single worst idea I’ve ever heard you suggest! Why would you even–

Overseer banged a gavel and called the other two to attention. I’m ending this tangent here. Advocate, there’s a reason we outsource lipstick missions. Opposition, be nice.

With an exaggerated harrumph, Opposition nodded and turned the conversation back over to Advocate with a simple, What else do you have?

Well, there’s always Celestia’s plan. Let Luna take over. Support her reign. Minimize the damage. Celestia considers it a viable option, and she doesn’t even know we can pose a credible threat to an alicorn. If Luna can be at all reasoned with, we can keep her in check with the threat of banishment.

That’s not optimal, but it’s a decent fallback option. Other ideas?

I’m dry. Excepting getting the Elements working. We could try being…friendly.

All three imaginary personalities shuddered at once with the reaction creeping its way back into reality.

I hate you so much, Advocate. Is that really the only plan you can come up with to work on?

If I randomly think of any at some later point, I’ll let you know. But for now, yes.

Opposition sighed. All right, let’s work out the specifics.

I request more information.

Twilight broke out of her conversation with herself, merging back into one coherent pony without the illusion of multiple trains of thought. She shook off the momentary disorientation she experienced upon exiting the headspace and turned to Celestia to ask for more information about the Elements.

“What in particular do you need to know about them?”

“Well,” Twilight began, not entirely sure herself, “you said they run on friendship. That would be a good place to start. What does that mean?”

“It means precisely what you think it does. The Elements are more effective the deeper the bonds run between the bearers. Any disharmony amongst their bearers disrupts their power.”

“Right… And I really can’t just wield them all myself?”

Celestia shook her head.

“Fine.” That would have made things so much simpler, but Twilight recognized that things hadn’t worked out so well the last time somepony had tried that. “How does a pony…I believe you said ‘lay claim’ to an Element?”

“When Luna and I found them, they bonded with us when we touched them. My best guess is that they will react similarly when they meet a pony they like.” When pressed, Celestia provided the full details of her experience, but as far as Twilight could tell, there really was nothing more to it than that.

“Can the Elements not be loaned or traded?”

“They can,” Celestia replied. “At greatly reduced power.”

Of course. That would have been too easy. “How picky are the Elements for finding a pony they like?”

Celestia shrugged.

“Oh, come on. You must have some idea.”

“Forgive me, Twilight, but I fear I’ve lost their user guide.”

Twilight leveled a glare at Celestia.

“There are a few tattered records of pre-Discordian bearers in my personal collection. I can pull them for you, but the most they imply is that the bearers ‘embodied their Element’.”

“And that means…” Twilight needed to know, for example, if whoever ended up with Honesty would ruined this entire scheme if she or he uttered a single lie.

Celestia, after taking a few moments to consider her answer, said, “The key point, I suspect, is a strongly internalized preference for the Element the bearer represents. Luna could lie, and lie well, but she tended to be very direct and expressive. There are reasons she preferred to leave politics to me.” A smile escaped her with a small bout of laughter. “The two of you will either drive each other mad or get on like a house on fire. I’ve never been able to decide which.”

Twilight set that last little comment aside as irrelevant along with the reminder of her horrible, no good, very bad plan to bed and betray Luna. Instead, she said, “All right, last question for now. Define ‘friendship’.”

“Ah, a good question. I imagine any strong, positive relationship will work.”

That helped significantly. She didn’t need to make friends in the classical definition of the word. The ponies involved could be friendly rivals, lovers, student and teacher, or any such thing. Twilight gave Celestia her thanks for the answers and sunk back into her inner world of debate.

So, Advocate began, it seems the other five bearers are a relative nonissue compared to getting us to like them. Are we willing to try behavior altering spells?

No, both Opposition and Overseer said at the same time. The former then added, Besides, that would almost certainly make the elements ‘not like’ us which would ruin the whole plan.

Fair point. So the question then becomes, where can we make friends? Because it certainly isn’t Canterlot.

Nopony objected to that. While there were tolerable ponies in the capital, their density was too low to reliably find them.

Since we’re going to cobble together a group of random ponies and everypony has to like each other, it would be easiest to integrate into an already existing social…group… Advocate facehoofed as the obvious group of five came to mind. Shining, Cadance, Mom, Dad, and Spike are a solid set of five all already friendly with each other and myself. We even have an extra with little Flurry.

That’s brilliant! Opposition exclaimed, for once completely on board. Nonetheless, it was her job to poke holes in ideas. Why wouldn’t Celestia have thought of that? No, that’s not the right question. Of course she thought of that. Why does she think that won’t work? Spike’s not a pony, but again we have Flurry in the unlikely event that matters. We have six of us. I fulfill that pesky Magic role, and…oh.

You think our family isn’t good enough for the elements? How dare you, you–

Overseer banged her imaginary gavel again. I said no personal attacks. It’s not productive.

Fine. But do explain yourself, Opposition.

Look, an Element not liking somepony isn’t necessarily a bad thing. For instance, too much generosity can lead a pony and everypony they love to ruin. As for our family specifically, we don’t really have a case for them. Maybe Loyalty for Spike with our recent…revelation about him, but I think we would all like to keep Spike out of this if we can.

A general feeling of assent came from the other two before Opposition continued. We might also be able to make a case for Cadance with Kindness or Shining with Loyalty, but if we can’t get the complete set, do we really want to complicate things by involving royalty?

No, Advocate admitted. In that case, we might as well just trot around trying everypony and if an Element awakens, proceed to acquire a friend.

Opposition approved of the idea. We’ll want to minimize the work we have to do. Where can we find a large group of ponies that we can pluck out five random Element bearers and expect them to already be friends?

Are you really asking? If you phrase it like that then you should already know the answer.

The gavel came down once more. I will not have you two squabbling like that or you’ll eventually drive us insane. Advocate, it’s your job to come up with the ideas, so do it.

Advocate accepted the rebuke but rolled her eyes regardless. We go to a small town where everypony knows everypony. But large enough that introducing ourselves won’t seem like an intrusion. The closest town to the Old Castle would be…Appleloosa? No, Ponyville is closer on the other side of the Everfree. Problems?

Well…there would certainly be a different culture there than in Canterlot. Not that Opposition made that sound like a good thing. We’d at least have a chance. But farm ponies… I don’t know if we could suffer five farm ponies.

Oh, be nice. Not every pony in Ponyville is a farmer. And besides, we’ve never talked to one. Who knows? We may even decide to give up everything and live the life of a lady farmer.

Silence engulfed all three fragments of Twilight as she processed the preposterous statement her mind had generated. Then all at once, each one burst into laughter at the absurdity. She could see it now. Archmage Twilight Sparkle, the greatest spellcaster since Star Swirl the Bearded, living the life of a farmhoof.

Okay, maybe we won’t become a farmer. My point still stands. And think about it. Do we really want to go to Appleloosa? Rainbow Falls? Windsoar?

No, not at all. Especially Appleloosa. I swear, if we have to ‘round up’ one more ‘bandit’ and throw them in the ‘hoosegow’, we’re going to lose it. Ponyville is fine.

We’re in agreement, then, Overseer declared. The plan for now is to go socializing in Ponyville. She called the session to an end. In parting, she added, And as a bonus, we get to dump all of our responsibilities back onto Celestia.

Twilight recovered her sense of oneness.

“Okay, we’ve – I’ve come to a conclusion. I really wish you would have brought this to my attention years ago. It would have been much easier to make friends with more than two moons to do so.”

“Yes, I suppose it would,” Celestia said quietly. After a few moments, she caught Twilight’s gaze and held it. “Are you truly going to insist upon this folly? The world will need you when I’m gone.”

Twilight felt she should be insulted, but she couldn’t find the energy to care. “Whatever happens, I’ll be fine. I promise. I have secrets of my own, you know.”

Although her curiosity showed so plainly on her face, Celestia didn’t press for details – not yet, at least.

“Anyway, I’m going to dump all of my responsibilities onto you for the next two moons while I take a vacation. Ponyville sounds pretty nice this time of year. Maybe I’ll even make a friend or five while I’m there.”

Celestia shook with mirth at the sudden tone shift. “Very well. But if you expect me to do all of your work, you’re going to take over the Summer Sun Celebration this year.”

“That’s a perfect cover! That’ll give me a legitimate reason to be there.” Sure, it would be annoying, but it wouldn’t take too much of her time. If she sourced everything locally, then she’d even meet much of the town in the process. Now Twilight only needed to decide on what identity to assume while there. “What do you think of using Index Code for a disguise? I don’t fancy my chances if I show up and say, ‘Hey, I’m the archmage. Be my friend so we can save the world.’”

Celestia, a smile poking at the corners of her lips, considered the choice. They’d shared the identity for years, using it for administrative work outside Canterlot when they wanted peace, quiet, and anonymity. “I approve. She’s neither too young nor too old to alienate anypony, and she has enough of a presence in the bureaucracy to throw any curious ponies off your trail. Few ponies will question her appointment as the festival’s overseer.”

Twilight snickered at the word overseer.

“Did I miss a joke?”

“No, no,” Twilight replied with a wave of her hoof. “It’s just a bit of an in-joke with me, myself, and I.” And that proved too good not to laugh outright.

Although she arched an eyebrow, Celestia let the, to her, mystery pass unchallenged. “This will be a good swan song for Index, as well. We’ll need to retire her after this. Too much attention.”

However regrettable, Twilight agreed.

“When do you plan to leave?”

“I’ll retrieve the Elements today, I think, and officially leave tomorrow.” Twilight pulled her watch from her bag of holding to check the time. It was after midnight as she’d suspected. Nodding, she continued, “Then I’ll have Index leave the day after.” A big part of maintaining a cover was leaving an appropriate paper trail. “We’ll take the time before then to redistribute my work. I won’t put it all on you, for I am merciful.”

“How gracious. Do you perchance know somepony who could stand in for you in your absence?”

Well, there was one pony that came to mind. Somehow, however, Twilight suspected Celestia wouldn’t appreciate discovering that she’d been quietly and anonymously covering up a wanted criminal’s tracks for the past seven years, especially not ‘Eventide’s’.

“No, not real… Hmm…” Now that she thought about it, Twilight did know one other pony who might fit the bill. They hadn’t spoken since the last academic conference she’d had time for, but she doubted the mare had changed too much since then. “Actually, I do. An old acquaintance I met in the Archives as a filly.”

“I cannot believe my ears. Did you just suggest you’ve had a friend all these years and I never knew?”

“Oh, no need to tease. And no, not really.” A frown overtook Twilight as she tried to find the right word. “We were…library buddies?”

“Oh my!” Celestia summoned an alicorn sized paper fan from her own bag of holding and made good use of it. “Why, Twilight, for you, that sounds like a steamy romance. Such a lurid affair. Library buddies! And you met as foals? I can only imagine what experiments–”

Twilight cast a spell to silence Celestia, but she just blew it away with her fan and a rousing round of laughter.

“I would expect this from Cadance or my parents, but you?” Twilight practically growled the words at this betrayal. The grin she got in return made her reconsider if she even wanted an answer. “Never mind. I think I’m done here.” Rising to her hooves, she left the bed and then made her way to the door with indignant strides. “I’ll bring her to you later today if I can get her to agree to suffer my job. And you.”

“Please do,” Celestia said. “I’d like to meet the young mare who has my precious student all in a tizzy.”

Twilight opened the doors, shouted, “Good night!” in a huff, and then slammed them behind her. The guards on duty hurriedly moved out of her way as she fumed down the hall and teleported away the moment she crossed the edge of Celestia’s wards.

Author's Notes:

Behold! A shameless promotion for my Patreon.

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Revision Notes - July 10th (2020)

Chapter Two - Preparations

The world shook.

Twilight appeared in the cool night sky above Manehattan. Although the strong winds didn’t blow her around, they did bite and encourage her to finish her string of teleports. A pegasus’s natural ability to passively resist temperature extrema would be wonderful right now. It was such a hassle to cast little miscellaneous spells of the like to deal with such all the time.

Eying the city below, Twilight identified the general direction of her destination and blinked toward it, bringing her journey one step closer to completion.

Really, in some ways, pegasi had the best luck of the pony tribes. Unicorns had almost no passive magic. Everything they did required care, thought, and practice. Even the magic a unicorn naturally attuned to through their special talent tended to misbehave without discipline. In contrast, earth ponies had almost no active magic. They had to accept that their magic would do whatever it would do whenever it was supposed to do it. But pegasi? They had both. They could naturally walk on clouds just as they could throw around lightning on demand with enough training.

Twilight spotted the university campus packed into the throng of buildings. In all likelihood, she would find her substitute archmage there burning the midnight oil much as she herself did.

For the average pony, being a pegasus was probably ideal. Their magic was flexible and accessible. Twilight personally didn’t know how anypony could survive without telekinesis, but ponies got by one way or another.

Identifying the correct building on campus, Twilight teleported to its front doors. She found them unlocked despite the late hour and made her entrance. Unless the department had shuffled offices around since she last stopped by, she needed to climb up to the third floor.

All that said, unicorns had the most potential. Sure, perhaps only one in ten thousand might unlock even a fraction of it, but a unicorn could, in theory, do anything. Their horns were precision instruments meant to make magic dance to their whims. Twilight wouldn’t trade hers for anything.

The little placard beside the office door read Sorceress Moon Dancer, Professor of Ancient Magics. Her crescent moon and stars cutie mark was displayed at the end. As this was an official visit, Twilight adjusted her torc of office so that it sat centered around her neck and lay flat against her chest. A quick spell straightened her mane and tail, blown into disarray during her trip, and a second flattened her coat.

With a hoof rather than magic, Twilight knocked. She felt the curious scrying of the office’s occupant a moment later, and then the door opened. Moon Dancer sat behind her desk all but buried in a mountain of books surrounding her on all sides. Most, upon inspection, had pieces of paper covered in notes jutting out of them. It was like looking in a mirror. Take away the glasses and apply a color changing spell, and a pony would be hard pressed to tell them apart except by their cutie marks.

Moon Dancer’s eyes first met Twilight’s and then drifted downward. They stayed there a moment, absorbing what the torc meant, and then came back up. “Archmage.” The slight nod of her head in place of a bow acknowledged that this wasn’t a meeting between academic peers.

“Sorceress,” Twilight said, returning the greeting with the title appropriate to the context. She let a slight grin grow on her face. “I would apologize for the late visit, but I hardly think it necessary.”

“The night is young,” Moon Dancer replied. Her smile betrayed how well aware she was that they were the odd ponies out when it came to such matters. Her horn lit up, and she shifted around some of her piles of books to form a makeshift chair. After adding a thick quilt over the top for padding, she offered it as an alternative to standing.

Shrugging, Twilight sat. She could just pull a chair out of her bag of holding or even conjure one, but that would be rude, and there was something deeply satisfying about using books as a construction material. Perhaps when she got home she should build a book fort with Spike before she left for Ponyville.

“So what brings you here?” Moon Dancer asked, her curiosity thick in her voice.

As much as Twilight would find amusement in being completely upfront about the situation, she decided to lead into it a little. “Would you perchance have any interest in working with me and Princess Celestia on a…well, not project so much as cleaning up one of her thousand year old messes?”

The sparkle in Moon Dancer’s eyes said everything for her long before she expressed her interest with words. “Are you sure I’m qualified? I’m not really the adventuring type.”

“There won’t be any dungeon crawling or combat expected of you, I promise. To be frank, I just need you to foalsit the princess and take a bit of my work off her hooves.”

Moon Dancer had no idea how to respond to that, and it showed in the blank look on her face. She tried to form words a few times but met with little to no success on each attempt. Twilight tried her best not to laugh.

“Without throwing classified information” – as of about three seconds ago – “at you before you agree, I need to take an extended leave of absence to deal with a major threat to Equestria. You’d officially be filling in for me as the Archmage. The actual job description is considerably less than the sum total of what I do for the country. Mostly just coordinating responses to magical problems that crop up on a national scale.”

“I’m aware,” Moon Dancer managed to get out coherently. “And Princess Celestia?”

“That’s…complicated. And classified. Suffice it to say she’s going through some personal issues right now. I’d appreciate it if you kept an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t do anything too…impulsive.” If she could afford to, it was something Twilight would much prefer to do herself. Unfortunately, she imagined this Elements of Harmony business would be taking up most of her time between now and Luna’s return.

Rather hesitantly, Moon Dancer said, “I suppose I could do that.” She pushed her glasses back into proper position after all the gaping and staring she’d been doing. “How long would I be gone, and starting when?”

“I’ll be back immediately after the solstice.”

Moon Dancer paled.

Twilight swore under her breath. “You’ve read Predictions and Prophecies, haven’t you?”

“The Mare in the Moon isn’t just an old ponies’ tale?”

“‘Fraid not.”

“I’ll do it,” Moon Dancer declared. She looked nervous and a little fearful, yes, but her voice was firm.

A good mix, Twilight decided. Worried enough to take this seriously but not so much as to panic. With a nod, she said, “Welcome aboard. You should pack whatever you need and make arrangements for your absence. You can tell the administration you’ve been drafted if needed. I’ll teleport you wherever you need to go to speed things along.”

Moon Dancer nodded, grabbed quill and paper, and set to writing a letter. “Need to notify the chair, my grad students, my TAs,” she mumbled. “What about my classes? Hmm, Astral can cover them for me. What else? Need to pay the rent in advance. Utilities… Food is going to spoil… Argh, I’ll just leave my keys and a sack of bits with Daisy next door.”

Politely tuning out Moon Dancer as she spoke aloud to herself, Twilight pulled Luna’s book from her bag of holding. She had nothing better to do while waiting, after all, and Moon Dancer’s briefing would wait until they got behind privacy wards in Canterlot.

Spike awoke shortly after dawn broke. If Twilight were on her regular schedule, she would be somewhere nearby to wish him a good morning. He figured she’d still be on a research binge with that book he found, however, but it wouldn’t hurt to search the tower for her anyway. He started with the sitting room which her mess of books and spell diagrams dominated, but she wasn’t there today. Nor was she in the tower’s – for her – small library, the bathroom, or the study.

Unsurprisingly, when he checked the kitchen, he didn’t find his mother there either. She never cooked for herself if she could avoid it and had absolutely no skill in the art anyway. Not that it really mattered. The best chefs in Equestria worked day and night just downstairs. They had no dragons on staff, however, so anything Spike ordered gem encrusted tasted second rate compared to his own creations.

Grumbling about dragonfire infused gems, Spike checked the last place he expected to find Twilight. He opened the door to her bedroom and was surprised to find somepony in her bed – somepony who wasn’t her! The implications ran through his mind despite how hard he tried not to think about them.

Almost slamming the door shut but stopping at the last second, Spike ran back downstairs into the sitting room, red ear to ear. Despite growing much slower than ponies, Twilight hadn’t felt the need to keep the adult world a big mystery from him.

But beyond the awkwardness of so abruptly discovering his mother had a special somepony lay confusion and worry. She’d always been so academic and detached about the subject. Spike wasn’t sure of the details, but it’d also even become somewhat of a sticking point in her relationship with his grandparents as well. Between her disinterest and stubbornness, he’d never imagined she’d actually find a coltfriend – or marefriend, as it turned out. He’d heard stories from Flurry’s friends in school of parents getting remarried and losing interest in their children. Twilight was already overworked. Would she even remember he existed now?

Then there were the ponies who were the youngest in the family, showered with love and attention until a new foal came. Spike didn’t doubt that Twilight could find a way to have foals with another mare if she wanted, and there were certainly times when he felt the strain between them that came with being different species. This was bad. He just knew he’d be completely abandoned if he didn’t break this up now before she got attached to whoever she’d brought home.

But how to do it? Spike’s first instinct was to hatch some sort of cunning plan to drive the offender out, but he knew that would just make Twilight upset. In fact, any sort of scheme would probably just make her angry. Perhaps it would be best to just tell her how he felt. Sure, it might be awkward and make him look selfish, but honesty was a virtue.

Spike unconsciously went through the motions of making himself breakfast while he planned what to say.

Soon came the sound of hoofsteps descending the stairs. Spike braced himself. If it was Twilight, this was his chance to speak with her alone. If not…

Before Spike was ready, the source of the noise walked into kitchen. It was Twilight, except not Twilight. First off, she wouldn’t wear glasses even if she needed them unless they were some sort of magical artifact. Next, her colors were all wrong, and the stripes in her main and tail were on the wrong side. There were a few other subtle differences to spot as well if one looked hard enough.

Despite all this, Spike breathed a sigh of relief. This was just another of Twilight’s magical experiments gone wrong, he was sure. And now that the shock had settled, he knew he’d jumped to conclusions. This would hardly be the first time he’d seen her polymorphed into a different appearance or even species. And she did tend to cast and forget when her mind was occupied.

“Morning, Mom. You left an illusion or transfiguration on again.”

After the initial look of surprise faded, Twilight said, “You must be Spike. I’m Moon Dancer.”

What?

“Yes, I know I look like Twilight. I get that a lot.”

“I… Okay.” Sometimes it was best to just go with the flow, especially around Twilight. “Why are you here?”

Moon Dancer hesitated a moment, likely choosing her words with care, and said, “Your mother asked for my assistance with one of her adventures. She gave me the details here behind her wards.”

While it was unusual for Twilight to invite anypony into their home for such things, it wasn’t entirely unheard of, so Spike nodded along with the explanation. And if they’d been up as late as he expected, that also explained why she’d just given Moon Dancer her bed for the night instead of troubling the castle staff to prepare a guest room.

That was, of course, assuming Princess Celestia hadn’t put Twilight up to a very strange prank. That happened on occasion.

So like a good host, Spike offered, “Tea? Or coffee? We have orange juice, too, or we can head down to the kitchens for something else.”

“Coffee would be celestial.”

Spike nodded and went to work with a deft hand. “Word of warning if you’re gonna be working with Mom and Princess Celestia. They probably won’t show it, but they both get uncomfortable when you use her as an expression like that.”

“Oh. That’s fair. Sorry.”

Spike waved off the faux pas. He understood. Twilight was more of a peer with Princess Celestia than anypony he’d ever heard of, so the whole physical goddess thing no longer properly registered with her, but not everypony could be like that.

“Speaking of whom, Twilight said I should ask you to take me to the council chambers after I rose for a meeting with those two.”

“After breakfast,” Spike insisted.

Moon Dancer nodded. “After breakfast.”

There were only two things a pony needed to know about the Royal Guard.

First, it was a great honor to join the guard. It had an impressive history of performing great deeds and completing noble quests. Only the best of the best could hope to join, and only merit could keep a pony there. They were the shining shield who protected the princess and the flaming sword who smote her enemies.

Second, it was, by and large, a very boring profession. All of that impressive history was just that: history. The Equestrian Intelligence Service and its subdivisions had largely supplanted most of the Royal Guard’s field work over the past century, and nopony had been stupid enough to attack Princess Celestia in centuries.

There had been a brief and glorious period where the guard had worked their tails off to keep a young Twilight Sparkle safe. The poor filly had attracted enemies both foreign and domestic from all walks of life, most through no fault of her own. But as was the natural course of things, she’d come into her own and grown nearly as strong as the princess herself. The archmage required no protection.

The last time the Royal Guard had seen action, if one could call it that, was during the relatively recent ‘war’ with the Griffon Kingdom. That entire fiasco had ended within a week leaving little time for valor and a petrified world in its wake. It was what had cemented the archmage’s reputation as a force of nature if perhaps not on par with the princess then close enough as to make no difference to mere mortals.

By Celestia, she was bewitching.

“Bored?”

Flash Sentry snapped out of his thoughts with a start. Scanning the room, his gaze eventually landed on his partner. Shielded Strike eyed him with a hint of reprimand from the other side of the doors they were guarding. Guilty but not willing to admit it so easily, he asked, “What makes you say that?”

“You had that dreamy look about you again.”

With a click of his tongue, Flash said, “All right, you got me. Some days I wonder why we’re even here.”

“We keep order, Flash. That’s our job. The princess can’t be everywhere at once.”

“I suppose…” Although if anypony could be, then it would be the archmage. She probably knew a duplication spell, or a way to create golem guards, or something like that. She casually flung around spells the likes of which most unicorns could only dream of. Certainly, she–

Strike whacked Flash with the shaft of his spear. It made a loud clang against his armor and pulled him back out of his thoughts. “Dear Celestia, let her go,” Strike said. “The princess may know the name of everypony in her castle, but the archmage probably doesn’t even know you exist.”

“That’s not true. She clearly recognized me the last time she threw me out a window. I’m making progress.”

“That is the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard.” Strike shoot Flash a mixed look of pity and scorn and then shook his head. “How has Captain Armor not thrown you out by now?”

“Simple, Strike. Simple. I do my job, and that’s all he cares about.” Of course, there had been an off the books meeting in which many brotherly threats had been made. They mostly involved what the captain would do to whatever the archmage left of him if Flash ever laid a hoof on her without permission.

“Why do you even like her?” Strike asked. “I remember her as the awkward but adorable little filly with her nose forever in a book, but young blood like you has no excuse.”

Well, the easy answer was that the archmage had a natural bookish beauty about her and would probably throw herself into the bedroom with the same dedication she brought to everything else. Most recruits developed a crush to that extent before she disillusioned them with her public personality. But behind the thorns, there was so much more to discover.

“Because she’s a spiteful, dismissive, temperamental mare–”

“You know there are at best two sets of doors between her and us right now, right?”

Flash ignored the interruption. “–but beneath all that, she’s one of the most caring, dedicated, and brilliant ponies you’d ever have the pleasure to meet when amongst the people she cares about.”

“I guess I can see that,” Strike admitted. “It’s no secret she hates most everything she does for the princess.”

One of the many facts which, incidentally, made her immensely popular amongst the populace, especially those who lived outside Canterlot.

“Then there’s what she went through to adopt that fire hazard of hers,” Strike added.

Flash chuckled. Most of the old guard had a completely irrational and involuntary fear of Spike. The poor dragon didn’t deserve any of it in his opinion, but he’d heard enough exaggerated stories of dragonfire, blood, and valor from before his time not to judge.

At a whisper, Strike said, “Speak of the Nightmare, and it shall appear to you.”

Flash followed Strike’s eyes to find the dragon in question at the end of the corridor. It wasn’t unusual to bump into him. He had free run of the castle and liked to wander and chat with the ponies therein. More interestingly, however, an unfamiliar familiar unicorn walked at his side. She looked an awful lot like the archmage, but her coloring was off and she held herself all wrong.

As the pair approached the door that led to the council chambers and a number of other important rooms, Flash and Strike looked to each other uncertainly. By mutual silent agreement, they crossed their spears and barred entry.

“Err…halt?” Flash requested in what he thought was perhaps the worst example of taking initiative he had ever seen.

Spike covered his mouth with a hand, laughing. “Really, Flash? Where was the please?”

“Oh, har har. The princess and the archmage are currently in a meeting. I think.”

“This is Moon Dancer,” Spike said, gesturing towards the unicorn. “She’s Mom’s guest. I’m supposed to take her to the council chambers.”

This was a perfect opportunity to talk to the archmage, so Flash said, “I’ll go see if they’re ready for you.” As he turned in place, Flash found Strike’s spear blocking his path.

“I’ll go check,” Strike said, looking between the door, Flash, and Spike. “For many reasons.”

Flash rolled his eyes but agreed to let his shell-shocked friend run away from his fear. He then turned his attention to the new unicorn in the castle. “So, what do you do that you’ve been invited into the privy council?”

“Uh, magical research, mostly. I’m not sure how much I’m allowed to say right now.”

That was fair enough, so Flash didn’t press.

Strike came back through the doors a few moments later. “Her Highness and Her Excellency will see you now. The room you want is the third door on the left.”

The relatively small – but still large enough for Princess Celestia – and unadorned door opened to reveal the council chambers. Rather than the typical example of good taste mixed with wealth and important looking ponies going about the affairs of state Moon Dancer had come to expect from her walk through the castle, cramped described it best. Only a large round table and accompanying chairs waited inside. There were no windows, and oil lanterns cast the only light.

As Moon Dancer stepped inside, she felt as if some part of her had been wrenched away. When she tried to summon up her magic, it slipped away from her. Spike, who’d entered first, seemed unaffected, as did the two ponies at the far side of the room. Wards, she concluded. Lots and lots of wards.

“The first time is always the worst,” Twilight said as she approached. “It’s a little overkill, but there’s nowhere more secure in the entire castle. Need a hoof?”

Moon Dancer appreciated the offer but declined. Although she felt a little woozy, she steadied herself enough to at least get by. Princess Celestia approached next and inspected her with a critical eye. It bore the weight of centuries and made her breath freeze under its intensity.

And then Princess Celestia let out a distinctly amused snort. “Twilight, you narcissist.” She shook her head with a warm smile. “Good morning, Moon Dancer. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to getting to know you. This is the first time Twilight has brought home a friend.”

When Moon Dancer realized that it’d become expected for her to reply, she started and nearly squeaked. Then she pushed her glasses back into place. “Y-yes, Your Highness. Good morning.”

“Would you indulge an old mare’s curiosity and share how you and Twilight met? She only informed me that you were ‘library buddies’.”

“Old? I – well, yes.” That was an accurate enough way to put it. They were more occasional colleagues now than anything, but it got the point across. “We bumped into each other in the Canterlot Archives when we were young. Literally. We, uh…” Moon Dancer fought not to blush. “With our resemblance, we may have leapt to an incorrect conclusion or two at first.”

In the background, Twilight vigorously indicated that Moon Dancer should stop talking, but the damage had already been done. Princess Celestia shifted the focus of her attention to Twilight and, with the tone of a mare who’d just been given ammunition, said, “Oh really?”

Twilight cleared her throat and pointedly ignored her princess. “Now that we’re all here, we should get started. Moon Dancer, take whatever place you want.” She moved off at a pace slightly faster than a walk but not quite a trot and took the chair to the right of the oversized one clearly reserved for Princess Celestia.

Meanwhile, the princess said, “Some other time.” She winked and then went to join Twilight.

By this time, Spike had already found a place beside his mother. Moon Dancer, not really wanting to walk much under the current wards, took a nearby chair across from the trio.

“Now then,” Twilight said, “before we begin, welcome to the Chambers of the Privy Council™, where most matters of policy are decided.”

Moon Dancer’s ears stood fully erect, trying to decide whether the strange not-quite-sound they’d heard was real. As Princess Celestia brought a hoof to her head and sighed, something must have happened.

“What was that…” The appropriate word eluded Moon Dancer.

“Must you do this with every guest?” Princess Celestia asked.

Twilight shot the princess a look that spoke of some sort of revenge. “Of course I must. It is the name of this room, after all.”

“To answer your question,” Princess Celestia said, paying Twilight no mind for the moment, “What you heard was the result of a joke spell I created centuries ago and cast upon the world. Twilight heard it once and begged for days for me to teach it to her. She put the enchantment on no less than four phrases before I told her to stop.”

Moon Dancer looked between Twilight, who seemed both unaccountably proud and unashamed, and Princess Celestia, who just appeared abashed. “So you mean, anytime anypony anywhere says any specific sequence of words…”

“The phrase gets an inaudible yet perceptible trademark added to the end of it. The magic is so comprehensive, it works even in here. It was both my and Twilight’s first experience with world magic. My own casting of the spell was on the phrase the Hoarded Lore of Celestia Herself™. I was…a younger pony at the time.”

“Not that young,” Twilight mumbled just loud enough for everypony to hear.

Princess Celestia casually pushed Twilight off balance with a wing, almost resulting in her chair toppling over and her falling to the ground. Spike laughed, and despite both herself and the titanic presences in the room with her, a few silent laughs escaped Moon Dancer at their antics as well. Was this what Princess Celestia was like behind closed doors, or was she just trying to make her guest feel comfortable?

More importantly, Moon Dancer asked, “How does it work?” She’d never heard of world magic before despite all of her studies. It must be something understandably kept hidden from the public. She could only imagine the level of chaos this sort of spellwork would unleash upon the world if left unchecked.

“Ah, I should have expected as much from Twilight’s friend,” Princess Celestia said, eyes shining. “This is perfect. She rarely lets me be a proper teacher anymore. To begin with–”

“It draws power from the world’s ambient magic like many public works, only on a larger scale,” Twilight interrupted, drawing frowns from her fellow academics and a thankful look from Spike. “It’s finicky, complicated, and my time is extremely valuable right now. Perhaps you two can discuss this later?”

However irritating, Moon Dancer admitted Twilight had a point. Princess Celestia relented as well.

“Excellent. Now then, I’ve already informed you of the broad strokes of where and what I’ll be doing. The purpose of this meeting is to divvy up my regular work between you two. Spike, are you okay with taking notes for us?”

Since Spike already had a quill twirling about in his dexterous claws with paper at the ready, it surprised nopony when he agreed to do so. It seemed a little odd to read him in on a bunch of likely classified information for the purpose, but then Twilight hadn’t exactly kept anything under lock and key in her tower. He probably stumbled upon a half-dozen national secrets before breakfast most days.

Regardless, they went forward with the rather tedious bureaucratic task.

It was midday when Twilight appeared south of the most dangerous location in Equestria, if not the entire world. The twisted, chaotic magic that surged through the Everfree Forest scorched her horn even from where she stood nearly a kilometer away as it ate away at the lingering magic of her teleport. The enchantments she always kept active upon herself began malfunctioning, forcing her to dispel them before they could fail spectacularly. With no further spells under her control nor artifacts in her possession, the wrath of the forest receded. It didn’t vanish but instead stood waiting and watching for the slightest hint of magic to lash out against.

This was the reason the Everfree Forest struck fear into the hearts of nearly every single being on Equus. Magic could be used within it with great difficulty, but there was no telling what the forest would morph the magic into. Simple telekinesis was as likely to summon a glass of water as it was to turn the caster into a penguin or simply explode.

And it wasn’t just unicorns who had trouble. Pegasi couldn’t fly reliably or even stand on a cloud near the Everfree. Earth ponies had it the worst. Unable to turn off their magic in its entirety, the forest would slowly tear them apart until there was nothing left but carrion for the predatory species born in the chaos.

But there was one major exception: the Elements of Harmony. They brought order from chaos, harmony from discord. Once Twilight reached the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters, she would have her magic back. The cost, of course, would be facing off against the protections Celestia had laid down there centuries ago. There were no quick ways to nor from the castle for anypony except her. If only the Elements didn’t hate her, then she could have picked them up herself in less than the time it took to invoke her name. Perhaps it would have been a better idea to send her in first to disable the wards – that would allow Twilight to teleport in after – but it would take longer, and time was more important right now than inconvenience.

Thus it was with great trepidation that Twilight Sparkle, the archmage who lived and breathed magic, ventured into the Everfree.

The old highway from the southern reaches of Equestria to the Old Castle through the forest still existed. The brick road cut a wide path through the trees. Not even a single blade of grass had managed to split the stonework over the past thousand years. Despite the ravages of time and the chaotic magic of the forest, it endured and protected. On the path, at least, the forest’s wrath retreated – not vanished, but lay lingering in wait for its next meal.

How curious. This road seems to have acquired a mild anti-magic field of some sort. That’s not unheard of, but they’re not supposed to be stable enough to last days, much less centuries. Hmm… I probably can’t teleport these bricks, unfortunately. I’ll have to come back later for a sample to study and have it physically shipped to Canterlot.

Twilight briefly wondered if she could replicate and amplify an anti-magic field on command. She wouldn’t need to faff about with the Elements of Harmony if it were possible. But then she supposed that if it were that easy, Celestia would have thought of it ages ago. Still, she made a mental note to mention it when she stopped by Canterlot later and then pressed on deeper into the Everfree.

Fortunately, and somewhat surprisingly, the journey was relatively peaceful. It seemed, from the lack of any of the usual signs, that the forest’s fauna didn’t normally approach the road. While she wasn’t completely helpless without magic, Twilight doubted she could win a scuffle with anything bigger than a timberwolf and didn’t relish the thought of a long gallop to escape.

That said, it still was a long trot to the Old Castle. Twilight was in better shape than most bookworms, so she made reasonable time, but she didn’t possess even half of her brother’s stamina, that fitness junkie. By the time she reached the stone arch bridge that signaled the beginning of the end of her journey, she wanted to curl up and die.

In fact, getting through the wards at the Old Castle would require her legs to stop shaking when she stood still, so Twilight thought better of pressing on just yet. She found a comfortable looking tree adjacent to the road to lean against and slumped over onto the ground.

“Urgh… How do ponies live without enhancement enchantments?”

Probably the same way they live without being able to reshape reality whenever they so much as mildly object to it.

“Savages.”

Twilight chuckled as she fought against the urge to nod off in a dangerous forest filled with pony eating predators. Maybe she should have gotten a full night’s rest before attempting this trip. Without magic, the denial of her body’s natural biorhythm was starting to catch up with her.

Once her hooves stopped screaming in protest, Twilight stretched, rose, stretched again, and then carried on with the last leg of her journey. Cresting a hill not far past the bridge, she finally saw her destination.

The Old Castle was a magnificent structure, remarkably well preserved even after more than half of its towers had collapsed in on itself. Time hadn’t been kind, but neither had it been brutal. Unlike the road, the forest had made some inroads into the masonry here. There was an abrupt and obvious line where the wards began and the reclamation ended, but it was progress of sorts nonetheless.

Twilight approached the castle’s main gate, a massive portal long since deprived of a door. The moment she stepped over the ward line, the eager hunger of the forest fell away without a trace – the influence of the Elements at work, no doubt. The prickling of her horn ceased, and her magic flowed through her without fear once more. And, of course, the wards studied her, wary but not yet hostile. They would give her a chance to prove herself a friend. If she failed, they would reprimand her and send her on her way. If she persisted, then they became dangerous.

Celestia had mentioned fire and acid as the lesser perils and worked her way up to esoteric dimensional magic which she’d simply described as ‘enough’ when explaining what it did. Twilight hadn’t inquired further. She was, after all, a friend. The wards wouldn’t hurt her provided she gave them no reason to.

Right, then. Let’s do this.

With all of the instructions Celestia had given her held at the forefront of her mind, Twilight stepped forward into the castle. From her horn, she radiated a useless spellform that flagged her as friendly. She moved through the castle with specific gestures and steps, careful not to deviate. When required, she gave a verbal password or altered the magic she held about her to conform to some new requirement. She silently cursed Celestia when forced to recite a nonsense song in Old Ponish. There were reasons she didn’t sing except when caught up in a heartsong, and she was very glad nopony was around to hear them.

It was altogether a different experience than the norm for her. Twilight’s usual approach to problematic ward systems was to carefully unravel or outright smash them. Infiltration wasn’t part of her job description. She had ponies for that. Well, not ponies, exactly, but the point was she’d gone out of her way specifically so she didn’t have to do this sort of thing herself.

It was only once Twilight reached the throne room that the wards relented in their examination of her. Finally accepted and allowed to act as she saw fit, she quickly recast a few of her more useful enchantments upon herself and then took a look around.

Of all the corridors, halls, and chambers she’d passed through on her way here, the throne room was by far the most intact. Scattered fallen bricks littered the floor and let in beams of light, but no gaping holes marred the ceiling or walls. The windows, preserved by magic, were merely broken instead of missing. Although they no longer functioned as intended, the doors remained on their hinges. Many of the tapestries, even, had survived the centuries almost entirely intact and still hung from the walls.

At the far side of the hall stood two alicorn sized thrones, one with a solar motif and the other with a lunar design. In front of the thrones in the center of the chamber stood a large pedestal with five outcroppings. Upon each rested a gray sphere approximately as wide as Twilight. Atop the pedestal itself at the center, a larger stone sphere lay in wait. As Celestia had promised, these were the Elements of Harmony.

And Twilight felt the call of Magic. It was the allure of power. It was the soft song humming beneath her thoughts. It was the potential for new love. It was the promise of reunion with a long lost friend. It was all these things at once and more.

Twilight suddenly froze halfway to Magic. Her eyes snapped open, and she took deep breaths slowly one after another as she beat back the call and reclaimed full control. It helped to avert her eyes, but the temptation lingered no matter what she did.

“What the hay!” That’s…not normal. Compulsions on cursed artifacts had never been that intrusive to Twilight nor as subtle yet blatant. And Celestia doesn’t think these things are evil? I mean, I guess she and Luna bore them for centuries without ill effect, but yeesh.

With a wary and suspicious eye, Twilight approach the Elements. She plucked the nearest from the pedestal with her magic to get a better look at it. Upon closer inspection, the sphere was hollow and had a few glassy openings that allowed her to see inside. After shifting it around, she identified a dull blue gemstone with a simple cut suspended in the center and oriented upright with respect to the sphere’s frame of reference rather than the world’s.

Twilight glanced back up at the outcropping she’d taken the Element from. In Old Ponish was inscribed an approximate translation for Laughter. She quickly conjured some paper, wrapped it around the Element, and labeled it appropriately before stuffing it away in her recast and otherwise empty bag of holding.

Going from Element to Element, Twilight repeated the process. Each held a similar cut but a distinct color. They were all obviously magical, but none particularly radiated power the way she’d expected of something that could strike down a goddess. Perhaps they were merely the interface to a greater system and had an external power supply which they tapped into when needed. It bore looking into once the Luna situation was resolved one way or another.

Right. Now all that’s left is you. Twilight levitated Magic down to her. With the proximity and her magic on it, the call grew in strength. It was to be hers anyway, she figured, so she might as well get it over with. She reached out with a hoof and touched the sphere.

“Argh!”

Twilight threw an arm over her eyes to shield herself. Magic shone with a blinding light like a star descended to Equus. When it finally faded, she blinked. The spots slowly cleared from her vision. Looking down, she found the Element she’d dropped. The stone encasing was gone, but Magic had transformed into a tiara with a six-pointed star inlaid as its centerpiece in the exact shape and shade of pink as her cutie mark.

“Well, that was…unexpected.” Twilight floated the tiara up to eye level and narrowed her eyes at it. It was hers. She felt that with every part of her being. Why are you a crown? You weren’t a crown five seconds ago. Wearing you in public is going to be so…troublesome. It would be a lie to say she didn’t understand the symbolism. She didn’t want Celestia’s job or to be a princess. That wasn’t at all what it was about. But it was the meaning most ponies would take away.

Sighing, Twilight floated the tiara up onto her head. Immediately, all other thoughts fled her as a rush of power flowed from it down to her every extremity. Her magic bubbled up inside her, eager and ready to leap to her command. The sudden flux of energy left her giddy and giggling.

This… Wow! This is – I – I can’t – this is amazing! At a rough guess, Twilight felt an order of magnitude more powerful. There was so much she could do with the absurd amount of magic she had at the tip of her horn. She could–

No, bad Twilight, she scolded herself. There were more important things that needed doing than indulging her own desires. You have an insane, evil goddess to deal with. That must take priority.

But regardless of what she did next, Twilight needed to get out of the Everfree. She strolled out of the castle without a care. Even if the wards hadn’t accepted her presence, she hardly cared. She felt capable of smacking them down if they lashed out at her. Impulsive, she knew, but so what?

As soon as she’d walked far enough to remove the Old Castle from the Elements’ protection, a harsh whine and crackle filled the air. The forest had set in on the wards, eager for the feast. Parts of the castle crumbled away as their magic finally failed, leaving the once magnificent structure the ruin it should have always been. Soon enough, the forest fell silent once more.

But that did give Twilight an idea. She had the protection of the Elements. She had the power.

Experimentally, she teleported a stick at her hooves a short distance away from her. It came out the other end unharmed. She repeated the feat, this time teleporting a large branch to the castle outside the influence of the Elements. A little vision sharpening spell let her see that it’d arrived at its destination unharmed. Trying to teleport it back resulted in it remaining where it was but now distinctly made of cotton candy, but that had just been a mild curiosity. Her first two experiments told her everything she needed to know.

Twilight built up power in her horn, sheer raw power on a scale she’d never had to manage internally before. Sparks of solidified magic flew off from her control as the aura surrounding her horn grew ever brighter. Perhaps not as slowly or carefully as she should have, she forged the magic into a teleport and, with unrestrained glee, made the journey out of the forest back to Canterlot in a single jump.

Moon Dancer sat across from Princess Celestia at a table overloaded with paperwork. The princess and the archmage had rescheduled all of their individual meetings for the next couple days to ease the transition for Moon Dancer, something she was very grateful for, but the paperwork they would be working on instead was nearly as dreadfully tedious as writing a grant application.

More importantly, she was working with Princess Celestia! Most ponies never had so much as the opportunity to speak with her, and yet here Moon Dancer was getting a peek behind the veil. Even with all the work they had to do, she barely resisted the temptation to bombard the princess with questions ranging from magic to history.

As the day dragged on, Moon Dancer found more and more that Princess Celestia wasn’t what most ponies expected. Was she intelligent? Of course. Did she have hundreds of lifetimes of experience dwarfing Moon Dancer’s own? Absolutely. Would a poet describe her as beautiful? By definition. Had she the grace and sophistication expected of a sovereign? Without question.

But behind closed doors, the veneer of the perfect princess peeled away. While none of the aforementioned traits left her, Princess Celestia complained, chatted, joked, and gossiped in her own way just like any other pony. Perhaps this was just another mask, her true face reserved only for her beloved pupil, but to Moon Dancer, it felt more genuine.

And with it came an endless stream of embarrassing stories about Twilight.

“It may surprise you to discover that she never completed magic kindergarten.”

“No way,” Moon Dancer said in pure disbelief.

Nonetheless, Princess Celestia persisted with a solemn air about her. “It’s true. She was expelled and never reentered the education system.”

“I don’t believe it. How does the archmage – no, any pony get themselves expelled from magic kindergarten?”

The quill held in Princess Celestia’s magic paused in its writing to tap in place. After a few moments’ thought, she answered the question. “Twilight learned a valuable lesson about escalation. I think it best not to say more than that.”

Well, that doesn’t sound ominous. Moon Dancer knew not to push, however. Instead, she asked, “How does that tie in to her, eh, indiscretion I witnessed in the Archives?”

Princess Celestia chuckled. “What does a teacher do to a pony who fails in school?”

That had never been a concern on Moon Dancer’s radar, so it took her a few moments to come up with an actual answer. Once she did, however, she understood where this story was headed. “Send them back a grade?”

“Precisely. And what was the last grade she attended?”

A snicker slipped past Moon Dancer’s lips. “Did she really think you were going to send her back to magic kindergarten?” She and Twilight had been in their late teens at the time.

“Nopony questions that Twilight is one of Equestria’s brightest minds, but there are times when one recalls that the line between genius and madness is often thin and easily crossed.”

This was, perhaps, not the best moment for Twilight to appear without warning, laughing maniacally, from a teleport that had enough power behind it to cross half the country. The thunderclap that announced her presence to anypony magically blind blew paperwork everywhere until Princess Celestia caught them all and held them in place. The purple and red sparkles, Moon Dancer presumed, were her teleport signature, which meant that it hadn’t been executed with her usual level of expertise.

Oh, and at some point she’d acquired a crown, which was a separate issue entirely.

A very interesting crown, actually. It would certainly be worth a closer look sometime soon.

“Is she okay?” Moon Dancer asked. “She seems a bit…”

Twilight spun in place and thrust a hoof in Moon Dancer’s direction. “I’ll have you know I’m perfectly in control.” She lowered the hoof. “At any rate, mission accomplished. You’re looking at the proud new bearer of Magic. All hail.”

Eyes drawn back up to the crown – not that they’d left it for long – Moon Dancer understood what she was looking at now. She’d expected something less ostentatious than a jewel-studded, glittering golden tiara, but ancient magical artifacts of untold power would do what they wanted.

Apparently amused by Twilight’s antics, Princess Celestia echoed, “All hail.”

Twilight nodded at the ‘proper’ show of respect. “Question. Magic is an additive boost, right?”

A small collection of documents appeared nearby Princess Celestia. She passed them off from her magic to Twilight’s. “I’ve taken the liberty of writing down everything I know about each Element’s powers for you.”

Twilight flipped through papers until she found the one she wanted. A few moments later, she nodded, satisfied. “Right, so Luna kicked your flank to the curb fair and square. I’m not dealing with somepony so skilled she can win a fight drastically outside her weight class. Good.” She tossed the documents aside, and they vanished as they fell.

A part of Moon Dancer was jealous of the casual indifference with which both the princess and Twilight used subspace storage. She could cast the spell, sure, but she couldn’t put much into it. Those two, on the other hoof, used it for anything and everything they wanted. It must be nice to have the strength required to toss around magic like that. Maybe if she had Magic, she could–

Twilight performed the magical equivalent of a slap and knocked Moon Dancer’s telekinetic grip from Magic. She spun with a glare and looked about to utter some biting words when she suddenly stopped. Her brows furrowed. She stepped to the left and then to the right. And then, after whatever that had been, she spun on the princess with a cry of, “Celestia!” She thrust her hoof out back at Moon Dancer. “Just look at her. She obviously feels the call.”

“You never told me you had a clone!” Princess Celestia protested.

“Well, can I pass it off to her? She’d be better at this than me. I think.”

“The only way I know how to unbond with an Element would involve fighting your brother to the death.”

“Hmm… Maybe if I only thought that’s what I was doing?”

Moon Dancer loudly cleared her throat to get their attention before they devolved into a royal spat. When they looked her way, she asked, “What exactly are you talking about?” It apparently involved her, so she felt she deserved to know.

With a sigh, Twilight pointed to her crown. “You want this, don’t you? Your eyes are drawn to it whenever your attention wanders, aren’t they? You feel it. The call. If I hadn’t gotten to it first, Magic could have been yours.”

“Oh.” She tried to imagine it. Moon Dancer, hero of Equestria. She’d wander the land solving problems, averting disasters, and generally putting things to rights. It was the life Twilight lived. It certainly had its appeal, but it wasn’t her life. Her adventures were best experienced via text. “Well, this is probably for the best. I prefer the support role to the front lines.”

Even so, it was an awfully nice crown…

With that out of the way, Twilight said, “All right, I should head out. I need to get to Haywaii and back.”

“One more thing,” Princess Celestia said. She pulled another pile of papers from her subspace storage. “This is the spellwork I intended to lay over where Luna should return to when her banishment expires. Would you optimize it for me? I recall you’ve been dabbling in dense magic.”

A significant look passed between the princess and her archmage, although Moon Dancer lacked the context to understand what it meant.

“Sure.” Twilight took the papers and stored them away. “I’ll give it a look and see how many more spells we can cram in there. I assume this is just to slow Luna down while we fire up the Elements?”

Princess Celestia shrugged. “If it works, wonderful. If not, then perhaps the second it buys you will make the difference.”

“Fair enough. I’ll be off, then. Later.”

As Twilight lit her horn, a teleport spell building in power frighteningly quickly, Princess Celestia called for her to wait with a distinctly parental edge to her voice. It reminded Moon Dancer of her own mother’s gentle exasperation when she would track mud into the house the day after a storm, blind to the world with her nose in a book.

“Yes?”

“Magic,” Princess Celestia said simply. “Recall that I will need it to ward off the deleterious effects of the Everfree Forest.”

The stricken look on Twilight’s face said everything for her.

Princess Celestia adopted a sad smile. Softly, she said, “Not so easy to toss it back into the forest, is it?”

Judging by Twilight’s reaction, she must have made some claim to that effect. She only proved the princess’s point when she said, “I think I’ll just hold on to it for a little longer. You don’t need it for a while, and it’ll speed up my trip to Haywaii. Later.”

Unlike her entrance, Twilight vanished with a short range teleport and no doubt made her escape good with a longer one thereafter.

“Well, that happened,” Moon Dancer observed. She felt like she should have something smart to say, but she had nothing. At least Magic was gone. She only now realized how distracting it had been for her.

“Yes,” Princess Celestia agreed. “I apologize for her shortness. She seems to be on a power high. It should wear off when she acclimates to Magic.”

That was understandable. Moon Dancer had heard of far worse reactions to donning ancient magical artifacts. Even so, she asked, “Should we be worried? I mean, is she dangerous right now?”

“Less so than normal, I should think. She may be more inclined to turn somepony into a smear on the wall on impulse or ruffle some feathers, but a clouded mind dulls her wit, which is the true source of her power.”

Rather flatly, Moon Dancer said, “Your Highness, forgive me, but I think you may be evaluating maxima instead of integrating.”

That elicited a titter from Princess Celestia. “I may also be watching over her. If need be, I will intervene.”

“Oh.” I guess that works. And now that she really looked, Moon Dancer did see a very faint glow at the tip of Princess Celestia’s horn. “Is she always so troublesome?” The past day had offered her a very different look at her sometimes colleague.

With no hesitation, Princess Celestia replied, “I sometimes suspect her greatest delight in life is found in causing me headaches. I’m very lucky to have her.”

Moon Dancer raised her eyebrows at the contradictory statements, but Princess Celestia seemed too lost in some happy memory to take notice.

“Have you heard what happened when I made the mistake of asking her to hold court for me?”

Twilight appeared outside Shining and Cadance’s home in the upper reaches of Canterlot. It wasn’t exactly the cleanest getaway, but if Celestia wanted Magic, she could pry it from Twilight’s cold, dead hooves – or at least wait a few more hours.

At any rate, Twilight’s brother and sister-in-law lived in a large house overlooking the city that might charitably be called a small manor. In the power struggle between their own preferences and Cadance’s parents’ delicate sensibilities, this had been the result. It offered them the retreat they’d wanted from public life to raise a family in private while still remaining an overt display of wealth and fashionable modesty.

With a nod to the guards posted at the gate – one of the many inescapable trappings of belonging to the extended royal family – Twilight entered the grounds. She walked through the garden Cadance maintained as a hobby and made her way to the front door. As she raised her hoof to knock, however, it swung open to reveal an enthusiastic pink blur on the other side. Cadance swept her up into a tight embrace involving both wings and hooves.

Once the more commonplace greetings were out of the way, Cadance released Twilight. Smiling, she said, “And here Shining and I thought you weren’t going to stop by before you left. Spike told us you were heading out of town until the solstice.”

“Oh, he has, has he?”

“Go easy on him, Twi. We already scolded him for it. Flurry, too, for pressing.”

Twilight arched an eyebrow at Cadance and stared silently at her.

“We did.”

Unmoved, Twilight made no response.

Already cracking, Cadance amended her testimony to, “A little bit.”

Twilight remained unconvinced.

“Okay, barely at all,” Cadance finally confessed. “But we’re family. And royalty. And you don’t exactly set the best example for him yourself. How much classified information do you leave sitting around your tower?”

In her victory, Twilight allowed that as a fair point. “Relax, Cadance,” she said. “I’m not mad. I planned to tell you anyway, but–” Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her prey spying on her from behind a hedge. “One moment, please. I need to remind the foals of the importance of information control.”

Twilight jerked her head toward Spike and Flurry, her gaze falling right on them. They froze in place, and she used all of her years of motherly experience to silently convey that they were in trouble.

The pair fled in a panicked haste.

With a sigh, Cadance said, “I’ll meet you in the conservatory when you’re done. Please don’t tear up my garden.”

“You did ask me to go easy on them,” Twilight said, stretching and cracking her joints. After her miserable journey through the Everfree, she was going to enjoy moving again as magic intended. “Wanna bet how long they’ll last?”

“However long you intend to play with them.”

Twilight’s smile turned predatory. “You know me too well.”

And with that, Twilight leapt into pursuit.

“Run!” Flurry whispered. “Run! Run! Run!”

Intellectually, Spike saw no point in trying to flee or hide from his mother when their capture was inevitable, but that wasn’t the part of his head he was listening to right now. Using their small size to their advantage, they cut through the hedges, ducking and weaving through narrow openings Twilight couldn’t easily follow through. They kept away from wide open spaces that would allow her to teleport on top of them, and surprisingly, they hadn’t seen a trace of her on their tail. Perhaps she’d decided not to pursue them.

But then they heard the characteristic crackle of a magical discharge. That only happened when a unicorn put far too much power into a spell, and by how loud it sounded, there was only one unicorn around with that much magic to burn on a whim.

They were so doomed.

“Come on!” Flurry said. She grabbed Spike’s arm with one of her own and pulled him back into a sprint. “We’ll lose her at the drop off. She can’t fly.”

Spike opened his mouth to correct that misconception but snapped it shut when he saw a lavender blur appear from around a corner in the distance. It bounced off a magical shield, redirecting its momentum in their general direction.

They were so doomed, but he hardly had a better idea.

Together, they moved forward in stealth but haste while Twilight searched every possible hiding spot behind them. The longer she spent at it, the more she zeroed in on the trail they’d left.

All they had left was one last sprint to the cliffside. Spike eyed the open field warily.

“She’s going to catch us if we try to make it.”

“Just go,” Flurry insisted. “As fast as you can. Jump, and I’ll catch you. I promise.”

It was a bold plan. Perhaps too bold. But what was the worst that could happen? Even if Flurry didn’t catch him, Spike would be fine. It was only a few stories down, and Dragons were tough.

“Right… On the count of three, then.” Spike put one foot forward, ready to dash, as Flurry prepared to take flight. “One. Two. Three!”

Without looking back, they burst forward. Spike ran for the edge, cursing his short, stubby legs. Flurry flew up, preparing to gain speed with a sharp dive. Much to his surprise, he managed to make it over the cliff without being snagged with telekinesis or otherwise detained. Flurry caught him as promised only a second into his fall, and they were off into the skies above Canterlot.

Spike twisted his head to look behind them. Sure enough, Twilight leapt off the cliff much as he had only with far more speed and height. At the apex of her arc, large butterfly wings sprouted from her back and sustained her flight.

“Uh, Flurry, we have a problem.”

The moment Flurry turned to look, she muttered, “Ponyfeathers.” With some careful aerial acrobatics, she managed to spin Spike around without dropping him. “Aim for the wings, fire lizard!”

Spike snorted. It wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever heard, but hocking fireballs mid-flight wasn’t exactly something he had practice at. Still, he could try. He built up some flame.

And then all three of them were back on the ground just outside Flurry’s home. Twilight glared down at him, wings banished, and commanded, “Swallow it.”

Spike did as ordered.

“There is a time and a place for that sort of game,” Twilight continued, “and just above a densely populated city is not one of them without extenuating circumstances. Understood?”

Spike nodded.

When Twilight’s gaze shifted to Flurry, she nodded too.

“Good.” Her expression softening, Twilight added, “But you had the right idea. My wings were held together with water and magic. Dragonfire would have evaporated the former and burned away the latter. Now then” – her eyes narrowed on Spike once more, not angrily, just with disappointment – “how much did you spill about where I’ll be and what I’ll be doing?”

Yep, busted. As there was no avoiding it, Spike admitted, “Just the basics.” He didn’t really know the details, although he could probably give a good guess.

“And you, Princess?”

Flurry winced at the title as much as the disappointed tone.

“Cadance mentioned some prying.”

“I guess…” Flurry looked away and rubbed a hoof along its opposite arm.

“Then you both know what you did wrong, yes?”

“Yes, Mom,” Spike said in time with Flurry’s, “Yes, Aunt Twilight.”

Bending at the knees to be at eye level, Twilight asked, “Then I can trust you both to keep what information you do have to yourselves?”

Spike nodded. He wouldn’t have told anypony else but family anyway.

Beside him, Flurry promised to keep silent.

“Wonderful. I really didn’t want to erase your memories or bind your tongues.”

Spike rolled his eyes even ask Flurry emitted a high-pitched eep he wasn’t sure ponies could even hear. Twilight could do that, but he knew she wouldn’t on family.

“Now run along, you two. I need to speak with Cadance. Spike, I plan to leave you under her supervision while I’m gone. Be good for her, okay?”

Once he agreed, Twilight pulled Spike in for a short hug goodbye. When they parted, she went inside the house and left them to their own devices, surprisingly without any further punishment than a light scolding. She must really be distracted or pressed for time.

Cadance sat waiting in her home’s conservatory with tea and snacks for two laid out on the table. Here she grew fruits, flowers, and berries which refused to grow outside in the often chilly Canterlot climate. It wasn’t much, but the hobby gave her some peace of mind away from the stress of politics, motherhood, and deadlines.

“Well,” Twilight began as she finally reappeared, “that should keep those two quiet for the next two moons.”

Cadance eyed Twilight suspiciously. “What did you do?”

“Nothing much. Danger. Excitement. A heart-pounding chase. When I caught them, I just performed that awful I’m not angry, just disappointed routine Celestia used to pull on me.”

“Oof. You really pulled no punches.”

Twilight laughed as she sat down at her designated spot. “Where’s Shining?” she asked.

“He stepped out a little bit ago. Bad timing, I’m afraid.”

“Oh well.” Upon taking a sip of her tea, as Cadance had expected, Twilight’s eyes widened in surprised delight. She then uttered only one word. “How?”

“The secret, as it turns out, is a careful infusion of pegasus magic into the brewing process. Aunt Celestia taught it to me a few days ago.”

Cadance wasn’t sure what reaction she expected, but it wasn’t the dark frown and narrowed eyes that came over her sister’s face. “Twilight? What is it?”

“It’s nothing. Just an old mare being silly.” Twilight forcibly ended the conversation by asking, “So how’s the novel shaping up?”

Although curious, Cadance let the matter of Celestia’s secret tea recipe go and answered the question. “Not well. I’ve not had the time to write lately, although your mother and I have been bouncing ideas off each other.” It was decidedly strange having a supportive mother figure in her life. To be perfectly frank, she would have been fine merely with one who wasn’t ashamed of having a pegasus in the family via some strange biological quirk, but so much the better. “That reminds me. I was supposed to invite you to a family dinner, but if you plan to be gone until the solstice, I suppose that plan is bust.”

“Sorry.”

Cadance waved the apology off. “I understand. You’re busy saving Equestria.” As she bit into a teacake, her eyes wandered up to something she’d been meaning to ask about. “Nice crown, by the way. Any special meaning?” One in particular stood out. Did Auntie finally bring you into the family officially?

“Sort of. It’s a magical artifact. Part of a set of six. They, uh…” Twilight let out a resigned sigh. “They run off of the power of friendship.”

“Pull the other one.”

Twilight assured Cadance that it was true. She then went on to explain the current crisis facing not just Equestria but potentially the entire world. She painted an optimistic picture, her ego out in full force, but Cadance doubted she actually believed even half of what she said. No doubt that was Celestia’s influence at work. Even when things were at their worst, a princess must remain strong for her ponies.

Still, Twilight needed encouragement and support far more than fatalistic doom and gloom, so Cadance wished her luck in her quest. “Let me know if you need any help. I’ll drop everything and come right away.”

“Noted. I was actually hoping you would watch Spike for me again.”

“Of course.” It was no trouble at all, and having a playmate around the house for Flurry never hurt. “Anything else?”

There was. Twilight’s hesitation gave it away, a glimpse beneath the veneer of confidence and invincibility. Her arms shifted slightly, and Cadance would bet she’d taken to stroking her tail with her hooves beneath the table. It was an old nervous tic she’d never been able to entirely rid herself of as much as she’d tried. It took no more prompting than a little pregnant silence to get her to speak.

“If anything happens to me, Spike will need somewhere to go. Nothing will, naturally, but if something does, you and Shining will take him in, won’t you?”

“Oh, Twilight, of course we would. Just like we know you would Flurry.”

“Good. Good.” Strength returned to Twilight’s voice. “Thank you, Cadance. I don’t know how I ever would have managed without you all these years.”

“Parthenogenesis?”

“But that would just–” A look of realization dawned on Twilight, and she fell into a fit of laughter. “I think you meant binary fission.”

Cadance shrugged. Parthenogenesis sounded better, but Twilight was probably right. She knew enough about the sciences to be scientifically literate but hadn’t ever had the passion to pursue her own studies much further.

Regardless, as far as Cadance was concerned, Spike was as much her responsibility as Twilight’s. She’d been the only pony supportive of her beloved little sister’s desire to adopt him at the time and had promised herself to watch over them. Parenthood was hard enough, after all, without flying solo and all the other baggage Twilight brought into it with her.

As she finally recovered, Twilight said, “I suppose I could look into a duplication spell, but I’m not sure if the world is ready for two of me.”

“Hmm, perhaps so. Your fights might level the city.”

“That’s…probably true.” Whatever strange thought had popped into Twilight’s mind was banished just as quickly as it came. She downed the last of her drink and stood. “I should get going. Thank you for tea. Give Shining my regards.”

With a nod, Cadance rose as well and walked Twilight out. It was a symbolic gesture more than anything, a few last moments for conversation between family before duty called once more. Twilight teleported away just a little before she passed through the front gates and fully left the wards that protected the grounds. If there were any question that she’d wanted to linger, that would have shattered all doubts.

Cadance heaved a slight sigh on the walk back to the house now that she was alone. “Nightmare Moon, eh?”

Eternal night didn’t worry her. Even if the worst should come to pass, her family was well equipped to survive without the sun. Between her and Shining, they could sustain a habitable bubble of paradise in a dying world with a little help from the earth ponies on staff. It wouldn’t be the life they were used to, but they would have each other, and that would be enough.

No, what worried her was the mare who’d just left to throw herself into more danger than ever before. “Be careful, Twi.”

Sandy beaches, the warm sun, the sound of waves, a cool drink, and a beautiful mare who loved him – all these things did a proper holiday make. Or at least Espionage thought it did. He’d lived in Equestria for years now, fully and happily immersed in pony culture to the point where he’d even taken a pony name, but the little things did sometimes still trip him up. As this was his first experience with anything of the sort, he felt he’d be forgiven if he’d misunderstood what a holiday was.

And then came a flash of red and purple in the distance.

Espionage raised a hoof to push his sunglasses up to get a better look. Sure enough, that ominous light flared again, only closer this time.

“If I pretend I didn’t see her, she’ll go away.”

Leaning back into his lounge chair, eyes closed, Espionage basked in the sun. Nothing but rest and relaxation lay in wait in his near future.

“I wonder what’s keeping Tavi?”

He’d only been gone for three days. This was his honeymoon!

“Maybe I should head back inside to find her.”

A distressingly large flux of magic above caught Espionage’s attention. It hardly needed any skill or focus to identify the tracking spell forming. This close, there would be no evading it.

“Oh, horseapples.”

And then she was there in front of him in a shower of purple and red sparkles. Espionage wasn’t sure what was up with that, but there was no doubt that it was the archmage herself who’d come to ruin his day. After a few moments, he noticed the new addition to her apparel.

Oh, by all the mothers, she’s wearing a crown now. “Uh, good afternoon, Your Excellency. What brings you here?” Please nothing important. Please nothing important.

“We have an existential crisis brewing. I need the hive’s assistance.”

Ponyfeathers! Hope dying, Espionage said, “All right. Let me just leave a note for Tavi that you’ll be borrowing me for a few hours.”

The archmage held up a hoof, silently shooting down that idea. “This isn’t going to be a short job, Esp.”

“Your Excellency, please, I just got married. I’ve never asked for time off before.”

“Evil waits for no one. If you want someone to blame, blame your queen for not appointing a substitute ambassador.”

Like that would ever happen. Everyling knew he had the job only because the queen despised him and wanted him out of her sight. It was only the protection of the Equestrian crown that had stayed her wrath.

“Look, I get it. The work we do is invasive to our personal lives,” the archmage said in an unusual display of empathy. Whatever crisis loomed really must be big. “But this is nonnegotiable. Reschedule. Someone wearing a crown will reimburse you for the trouble.”

Espionage, unsure of where the urge came from, sarcastically asked, “Like you?”

The archmage snorted, radiating a strange mixture of amusement, longing, and loathing. “Not likely,” she replied. “Go pack. Find Octavia.” Pulling out a watch from nowhere, she checked the time. “I’ll meet you two in your hotel’s lobby at the top of the hour to bring you back to the mainland.”

And with that, Espionage was alone again. The archmage vanished, whisked away in one of her teleports.

Espionage sighed in resignation. He packed up what he’d brought with him and wished the beach farewell. Hopefully Tavi wouldn’t be too mad about ending their holiday early.

Author's Notes:

Behold! A shameless promotion for my Patreon.

---

Revision Notes - July 10th (2020)

Chapter Three - Welcome to Ponyville

“You promised! There’s no going back now!”

When traveling over land in Equestria, as in most other countries, if one lacked wings, then the train became the fastest mode of transportation available. Of course, there were rare exceptions. The archmage and Princess Celestia, for example, had enough power to teleport around the world as they wished. But for everyone else, the train remained the next best option.

Index Code was a unicorn mare in her mid-twenties with a butterscotch coat. Her milky-white mane she wore tied in a braid, and her cutie mark was a disheveled pile of three hardcover books. She sat on the Ponyville bound line reading an old book entitled Entering the Dream Realm. It drew a few curious or skeptical looks from the surrounding passengers and might have enticed their interest.

In contrast, it was her reading glare, her posture, and the general aura of solitude she exuded that kept the seats surrounding Index empty. Such were, unfortunately, not habits easily lost even when wearing another pony’s skin. Maybe Celestia had been right all along. Maybe this entire quest for the Elements of Harmony was merely an exercise in futility.

Twilight heaved a long sigh. She hadn’t even left Canterlot Central Station yet. It was far too soon to assume the worst. So what if she scared everypony off with mere body language? She’d always known it wasn’t just her titles that intimidated ponies. Slapping both cheeks with her hooves, she forced herself back into character. Until further notice, she was Index Code, the boring, bookish bureaucrat.

Index had begun to think nopony was going to sit next to her again – and that was fine; she wasn’t on the clock until arriving in Ponyville – when a purple earth pony mare appeared.

“May I sit here?” the mare asked.

Perhaps too abruptly, Index nodded her assent. She telekinetically shoved her own bag to the side in the storage overhead to make room for the other mare’s and received a word of thanks in return.

“I’m Cheerilee, by the way,” the purple pony said, hoof extended.

“Index Code. Index is fine.” The two mares tapped hooves, and Index went back to reading her book.

Cheerilee dipped her head down to get a look at the title. “What are you reading?”

Sighed inwardly, Index closed her book. She couldn’t afford to have a possible Ponyville resident primed and ready to spread bad rumors about her before she even arrived in the community. “Entering the Dream Realm. It’s about lucid dreaming. For the most part, it’s an instructional manual on how to recognize when you’re asleep and what to do once you have.”

Cheerilee eyed the book with more interest now. “I’ve had a few lucid dreams before. I don’t remember them very well, but I do recall that they were a lot of fun. Is there anywhere I could get a copy?”

“Well…” Index idly played with the book in her hooves, trying to think of a way to explain her possession of a very old restricted tome. In the end, she decided part of the truth would do. “This is probably the last copy in existence, so you’d have to go through the Canterlot Archives and their authorization process to get ahold of it. They’d throw a fit if I lent it out to anypony myself.”

“That’s all right. So you work for the government, then?”

“Eh, sort of. I get shuffled around so much that I’m more of a consultant, but I am officially on the crown’s payroll.”

“That sounds tiring. I can’t imagine having to change jobs at all, let alone frequently.”

Index shrugged. “It’s not actually that bad. I do odd jobs for the princess and the archmage that they’re too lazy to do themselves. There are some things I don’t get a chance for, but my job stays fresh and I get to see a lot of different places in exchange.”

“Hmm, that’s an enticing way to look at it. Celestia knows the paperwork an elementary school generates wears me down at times. Summer work especially. All the foals get to run around and cause mischief while I’m stuck inside.”

“I completely understand the feeling,” Index said, although summer meant all year for her. Every bit of free time she put toward her research was hard won in a country that had some national crisis crop up that she had to deal with at least once a week. As much as she loved magic, it sometimes caused more problems than it solved.

“You have foals? How old?”

Having gotten lost in her own thoughts, it took Index a moment to rejoin the conversation. “Just one,” she replied. It hadn’t been what she’d meant, but she would roll with it. She paused for a moment then to consider just how old Spike was in terms of pony development. Her usual approach was to treat him with the level of maturity he displayed on any particular subject, which varied wildly, but if she had to put a number on it… Well, he gets along well with Flurry, so “he’s a little over nine.”

“Nine?” Cheerilee inspected Index with a measured eye. Index realized a little too late that, as an elementary school teacher, she would be well used to parents of a particular age range, one which Index very much did not belong to.

“The circumstances were…beyond my control,” Index said. A second later, she realized the implications she’d just made with her cryptic response. Eager to correct that misunderstanding, she said, “That’s not what I meant. There was nothing non-consensual going on,” which only made things worse. Now she sounded like she’d gotten herself pregnant as a minor.

Index fought the urge to facehoof when the snarky part of her mind pointed out that she hadn’t even been pubescent when she’d gotten the bright idea to intentionally hatch Spike.

“There was nothing consensual either,” Index hastily added, because clearly Spike congealed from the aether. “I mean – look, he’s adopted. Let’s just leave it at that before I embarrass myself any further.”

Cheerilee, smiling and visibly fighting down laughter, said, “I understand. I’m sure whatever brought it about was terrible, but I’m amazed you took on that level of responsibility at your age. How old were you when you took him in?”

“There’s not actually a terrible backstory involved. I have no idea who his biological parents are. He just showed up in my life one day, and we bonded.” All true in the most technical sense. “He’s been mine for the past six years, which is the way it’s going to stay.”

“That’s sweet. I wish there were more ponies like you in the world. It would mean the world for–” Cheerilee stopped abruptly and looked away, no doubt realizing she’d been about to reveal a student’s confidential information. “If you could please forget I said anything.”

“My lips are sealed. For reference, you could’ve just played that out into a comment about orphans in general. I might not have noticed anything then.”

Cheerilee took a moment to reflect on what she’d said. “Oh, I guess you’re right. I’ve never been very good at that kind of word play. That aside, tell me more about your colt.”

“Do you actually want to hear me gush about him?” Index asked. She’d never enjoyed it when other ponies tried to tell her about their foals. Although to be fair, those ponies mostly consisted of nobles looking for an apprenticeship for their talentless, spoiled brat. And she did like to hear stories about her niece. Maybe this was the right conversation starter to help her make friends.

“Of course!” Cheerilee replied, all smiles. “Even if they drive me insane during the school year, I love foals. It’s why I’m an elementary teacher.”

Index took a deep breath. She figured it might be awhile before she got another one.

The Equestrian Intelligence Service, more commonly known as the EIS, was a young institution in a nation older than recorded history. It’d started out as a specialized branch of the Royal Guard to serve as an investigative task force for the crown before slowly acquiring more responsibilities as time dragged on until it did everything from informing the princess where she could find the best cake in Equestria to performing the rare assassination.

Then came the EIS’s worst nightmare, Archmage Twilight Sparkle. She had the ear of the princess. She had the love of the people. She had the support of the Royal Guard. She had the mystical might to crush armies. She had the most political power ever concentrated in one pony outside of the princess herself. Anypony with eyes could see she was taking over the government.

Except then she just didn’t.

Of course, this hadn’t happened in a vacuum. The EIS’s internal investigations had butted heads with the Royal Guard hard enough to come to blows. The nobles had been up in arms over some nopony commoner muscling in on so much of their territory. The people railed against one of their own being threatened. It’d been chaos until the princess had stepped in to calm everypony down.

In the midst of this, the archmage had gone about her business oblivious to it all. She really just didn’t care, to the surprise of many, and once the princess had gotten that point across, the EIS went to work with her. Most of what the service did these days was, on some level, at her direction. The princess kept Equestria running. The archmage defended it. Such was simply the new status quo. Most grumbled that the general lack of royal oversight meant she did whatever she wanted and left the princess to clean up her mess, but that had a corollary. She would do whatever the crown needed and left the princess to put the pieces back together as Her Highness pleased.

It was an effective arrangement. Opinions were still divided on how much of the archmage’s antisocial behavior was real, but nopony could deny that things had never run smoother since she’d risen to prominence, both for Equestria in general and for the EIS in particular.

Then the archmage had dropped changelings on them. There were thousands of them living in Equestria right under their noses. Figuring out how to deal with that mess had taken ages. Setting up a new subdivision of the EIS in absolute secrecy to monitor the situation had been a source of never-ending headaches, but at least it’d gone much more smoothly than when the Anti-Monster Division had been created a few decades prior when some idiot stirred up the beasts of the Everfree Forest.

Spitfire had only been around for latter major shakeup in the service, but judging by the look on her boss’s face, she was about to experience her second. Incog, the director of the EIS, finished reading a scroll from the archmage. It’d been hoof-delivered to her in the middle of a directorial meeting by the only changeling technically on staff. Everypony knew he’d sold himself to the archmage, after all, in exchange for some favor and now served at Her Excellency’s pleasure in the guise of an ambassador.

Her face a stony mask, Incog looked up from the scroll to Espionage. “Have you contacted your queen yet?”

Espionage’s flinch answered that question. “Her Majesty was under the impression that, and these are her words, Celestia intended to spank her bratty little sister and send her back to her room if that didn’t work.” When he noticed the rest of the room staring at him, he awkwardly cleared his throat. “She was…displeased to discover otherwise.”

“I hope that means she’s willing to cooperate with us on this.”

“Probably. She, er, asked to speak with Princess Celestia first.”

Nodding, Incog said, “Understandable. Her Excellency’s stand-in should be stopping by anytime now to introduce herself. We’ll have her pass along–”

“Wait, hold up!” The relatively new head of the Anti-Monster Division, Sweetie Drops, broke from the stupor that had befallen the crowd first. She then asked one of the many questions on everypony’s mind. “Princess Celestia has a sister?”

“So it would seem,” Incog said. She glared down at the scroll on the table before her. “A Princess Luna, aliases Nightmare Moon and the Mare in the Moon.”

Where before Spitfire had been confused, now a distinctly anxious feeling far worse than even her first Wonderbolts performance settled deep in her chest. She didn’t believe any of the stories about Nightmare Moon, but what did somepony have to do to earn a reputation for wanton destruction and cannibalism?

“The princess and…” Frowning, Incog paused and reworded that. “The princesses are fighting over sovereignty. According to Her Excellency, we need to be prepared for either or both to be sitting on the throne when–” The frown intensified. “No, she wrote thrones.”

“Equestria is a diarchy, Boss,” Spitfire threw out flippantly. That previously unexplained fact which everypony took for granted was printed on the back of every gold and silver bit the state minted.

Incog ignored the remark and the uneasy laughter it produced amongst the rest of the department heads. “All right, what this boils down to is simple. If two alicorns want to duke it out with each other to the bitter end, there’s not a whole lot we can do about it. What we can do is make sure nopony attempts to sabotage Princess Celestia’s chance at coming out on top. Her Excellency is off working her magic for the next six weeks to give our princess a better shot come the solstice. Are we going to do any less?”

A chorus of fervent noes met the question, and thus began a period of time wherein Incog issued orders to each department head in the EIS. Eventually, she came to the head of their aerial reconnaissance department.

“Spitfire, I want the Wonderbolts out on a ‘training exercise’ around Equestria. Look for anything out of the ordinary, but pay close attention to our borders and any domestic detachments which aren’t where they’re supposed to be. The last thing we want is the griffons taking advantage of the opportunity to get revenge for their recent embarrassment or some other such nonsense.”

After a few moments to internalize the order, Spitfire said, “Can do. What about our performances?”

“Keep what ones you can. We don’t want the public catching wind that we have reason to deploy aerial intelligence agents, but this takes priority.”

Spitfire nodded. Despite the disappointment, she understood the need. It would only be for a couple moons anyway from the sound of things.

“Sweetie Drops,” Incog said, turning to the mare in question. “We’ll call on your department as usual if there’s anything too big for us to manage on our own but too small to trouble the archmage with. Be ready. Other than that, business as usual for you.”

As the meeting wound down with them still waiting for the archmage’s stand-in to show up and say hi, Spitfire turned to Sweetie Drops at her right and Espionage one chair further down. “So, Esp, back from paradise so soon?”

The changeling in question leaned forward onto the table and buried his head in his hooves. “Don’t remind me,” he moaned. “Tavi was worse than the queen.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Sweetie Drops said. “If anypony interrupted my honeymoon with Lyra so early, I’m sure I’d be ready to bite heads off myself.”

Spitfire raised her eyebrows. “Did one of you finally propose?”

“No. It wouldn’t feel right with our secrets hanging over us.”

“You should just tell her that you know,” Espionage said.

Spitfire added, “Incog already okayed you being involved with a pony of interest.”

“You’re probably right.” Sweetie Drops sighed and adopted much the same posture as the changeling next to her. “To be honest, I feel more like Bon Bon these days than Sweetie Drops.”

Espionage, the one who’d gone through formally assuming his cover identity as his actual one, sat upright and placed a supportive hoof on Sweetie Drop’s withers. “You could always quit and taking up baking professionally. Your confectioneries are so full of love.”

Although Spitfire agreed that Sweetie Drops had some serious talent, that was perhaps not the best choice of words when her primary clientele would be ponies.

Sweetie Drops asked, “What about you?” to change the subject. “Anypony special in your life yet?”

“Nah,” Spitfire replied. She’d had flings here and there, but her interest never lasted long. Besides, the life of a Wonderbolt wasn’t well suited to steady relationships even when they were only putting on flight shows for the public.

Before anything more could be said, the door to the conference room opened to reveal…an off-brand version of the archmage. She apologized for being late after Incog beckoned her forward to the head of the table. Now that Spitfire had gotten a better look, she wondered if this was the archmage’s secret long lost twin.

At any rate, they could finally get started with the original purpose of this meeting.

The train pulled into its first southbound stop with a mighty hiss of released steam and the screech of the breaks. Those sensitive to the flow of magic felt a large flux of thaumic energies being released until the train came to a halt in Ponyville Station. Several dozen ponies quit the locomotive for the platform, and at the end of the line came Index and Cheerilee. Their conversation, having eventually left Spike, had allowed Index to learn a lot about Ponyville. Most recently, they’d moved on to Index’s business in town.

“So where will you be staying while overseeing the festival? We don’t have any inns.”

Index was, in fact, not entirely sure. “I think I’m staying with the Ponyville hospitality director. Or something like that.” She’d been in a bit of a rush when snapping up this assignment and hadn’t worried about the fine details.

“Oh, you’ll want to find Pinkie Pie, then. You should have lots of fun with her. Just, uh, take her in small doses at first.”

Worried, Index gave Cheerilee a questioning look. That sounded like the kind of pony who would wear down what little patience she had very quickly. Rather than explain her remark, however, Cheerilee merely pointed across the platform.

Even through the crowd of departing ponies, Index saw what awaited her at the exit. An earth pony that oozed pink stood on her hind legs with a greeting sign held aloft in her hooves above her head. It read, ‘Welcome to Ponyville, Index!’ Surrounding the mare was what could only be called a flock of balloons, and at her side sat something so out of place, it boggled the mind.

Is – is that a cannon? Why does she have a cannon? What possible use does she have for a cannon of all things?

It was for but a fleeting moment, but Index and the pink pony locked eyes. Suddenly, as quick as teleportation but without any apparent use of magic, she was at Index’s side with their forehooves locked in the beginnings of an enthusiastic hoofshake. Reflexively, Index flung her away with enough strength to send her flying out of the station. In the back of her stunned mind, Index recognized that she needed to save the abomination, but a blink later, the pink one was already back and shaking her other hoof.

What?

It was all Index could do to control her reflexes and not send the anomaly to Saddle Lake or teleport herself to a random location far, far away. The test increased in difficulty when the pink one moved in for a tight hug and knocked her onto her rear without breaking the embrace.

And then the pink one spoke.

“Welcome to Ponyville, Index! We’re so glad to have you here! I’m so sorry for surprising you like that. My name is Pinkie Pie, but I bet you already knew that. My friends call me Pinkie. I live at Sugarcube Corner where you’ll be staying with me and the Cakes. That’s a capital C, not that there aren’t lowercase C cakes there as well. Mayor Mare arranged for you to stay with us. We’re going to have so much fun together! Your welcome party’s tonight. You’ll be able to meet most everypony in Ponyville but not quite all of it. Sugarcube Corner just isn’t big enough to host a party for the entire town. If you want to make it in time, we’ll have to get going. We could be fashionably late to your own party, but the mayor wants to say hello to you personally, and who knows how long that will take. She’s always so bogged down in paperwork and red tape and all that. I’ve got your luggage, so let’s go.”

What?

That had all come out at a speed almost faster than Index could process, which was a disturbing thought all on its own. Blinking, she realized that Pinkie Pie had indeed managed to get ahold of her bag. It had nothing important in it beyond the paperwork for the Summer Sun Celebration, but nopony short of Celestia herself, let alone an earth pony, should be able to take something from her telekinetic grasp without her even noticing. She must have dropped the bag at some point. That made sense.

At some point, the confetti cannon – that was weird, right, or had she fallen into some strange alternate reality? – had gone off, but Index couldn’t see any sign of the expected mess on the platform. In fact, where had the cannon gone? As Pinkie Pie all but dragged her away by a hoof, she stared pleadingly back at Cheerilee.

Cheerilee just waved goodbye.

After being dragged across town and given the name of every pony they passed on the way, Pinkie Pie gave Index over to the custody of a sympathetic looking unicorn mare. She introduced herself as Amethyst Star, assistant and secretary to the mayor. While Pinkie Pie waited downstairs, she guided Index upstairs to wait just outside the mayor’s office. It was a party free zone, a much needed and appreciated regulation after dealing with the local self-proclaimed party pony. She offered a blanket and a cup of hot chocolate despite the season, the latter of which Index accepted.

As the time passed without distraction, Index merely sitting and waiting patiently for the mayor to be free, her mind struggled to comprehend the enigma lurking in wait downstairs. Reality around Pinkie Pie seemed to behave the way the pink one thought it should rather than in any orderly fashion. It had to be the result of some form of magic, but for the life of her, Index didn’t understand it. It was, in equal measure, both exhilarating and terrifying. It was mysterious. It was fascinating. It was new. And she had absolutely no defense in place against it.

It’d been a long, long time since Twilight had felt even the slightest bit vulnerable.

Twilight took a sip of her chocolate. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear she’d finally met a proper peer. Celestia, as her mentor, didn’t count. But what does she use all that power for? She snorted. Parties. It grated against her sensibilities. Sure, she by and large studied magic for its own sake, but the pursuit of knowledge was a noble calling, not some hedonistic–

Twilight brought her drink up to her lips and inhaled deeply, breathing in the sweet, calming scent of chocolate, before taking another sip. Everypony was entitled to pursue happiness in their own way even if it infuriated her to see so much potential go to waste. It was fine. Everything was fine.

A soft nudge to the arm brought Twilight back to reality with an accompanying, “Index?”

Ponyfeathers. I’m out of character. Sighing, Index turned her attention to the mare beside her. “Yes?”

“The mayor will see you now,” Amethyst Star said.

After nodding in acknowledgment, Index rose to enter the mayor’s office. On one wall inside hung a chalkboard with frantically drawn diagrams and a few dozen documents pinned to it by magnets. At a glance, it seemed to be trying to identify the ‘source of chaos’ in Ponyville. Pinkie Pie, unsurprisingly, was listed as a prime suspect just below the Everfree Forest. Upon closer inspection, it seemed the village suffered, to say the least, a weekly monster attack and some unrelated breakdown of social order every moon.

I haven’t even been here an hour, and I already know this place has orphans, an earth pony reality warper, and a population so inured to disaster that they shrug off things that would cripple most towns. Index warily eyed the hot chocolate floating along beside her. Is there something in the water? She made a mental note to cast a few spells later to verify the village’s mental well-being. If there were no obvious problems, she’d send a memo off to the EIS and have them look into things for her.

At any rate, Index took the seat available directly across from the mayor at her desk. The unfortunately named Mayor Mare – the name plate said Mayor Mayor Mare – was a tan coated earth pony with a white and gray mane and tail with an almost imperceptible hint of pink at the roots. Of particular interest were the browline glasses she wore instead of using a simple spell correct her vision. Such things were widely available on the market these days. Moon Dancer did the same for reasons Index would never understand. Overall, it seemed the mayor wanted to appear older than she naturally looked.

Mayor Mare noticed the hot chocolate still floating nearby. She pushed over a coaster for it and said, “Please accept my apologies for Pinkie Pie. I try to rein in her antics, but one can only do so much.”

“It’s okay.” Anypony who heard it could spot the lie. “I’ve coped with less friendly horrors.” A second after she’d said it, Index realized she’d forgotten her filter. Insulting the residents didn’t seem like a good first impression to make on Ponyville. “I didn’t mean–”

“It’s all right,” Mayor Mare said assuringly. “I fully understand and sympathize. You build up a tolerance after a while, but your first exposure to her is something you never forget.”

Index, glad to know other ponies felt as she did, asked, “Do you know how she does it? I would say she’s breaking the rules, but that would discredit me as an academic forever.”

“I have no idea,” Mayor Mare replied. “But I assure she’s harmless. She’s really very nice. I can understand if you’d like different accommodations–”

Index held up a hoof, paused a moment to have her second thoughts, and then waved it dismissively. “I’ll endure. Besides, I’m here for the next two moons. I can’t start out by snubbing the mare everypony in this town seems to like.” And I must study her. Pinkie Pie was entirely too fascinating to ignore.

Nonetheless, Mayor Mare said, “There’s nopony in town who would hold fleeing from Pinkie against you. You do look unusually shaken. We understand she can be a bit much.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, but I’ll be fine. I just wasn’t expecting…” Index faltered for words, trying to find the most appropriate laypony terms for how she would describe the anomaly.

“Pinkie Pie,” Mayor Mare finished.

“Well…yeah.” The mare in question might as well be given her own category.

The smile Index received from Mayor Mare was likely meant to be reassuring, but it came off rather strained. “After your party tonight, she’ll cool off. A little.”

Index swallowed, nervous, but nodded. She did recall Pinkie Pie mentioning something to that effect somewhere in the endless stream of words that had assaulted her. She would take solace in the promised respite.

“Now then, on to business.” The mayor pushed a folder across her desk. “We started planning the moment we received word we would be hosting the Summer Sun Celebration this year. This dossier contains the details of what we’ve worked out so far. I can summarize it for you if you’d like.”

While Index could probably read the entire document faster than anypony could highlight it, she gave the nod anyway. She’d gone to considerable effort to dramatically undersell herself today and remain approachable – relatively speaking. She wouldn’t let a little impatience ruin all that work.

“There are two major parts to the celebration. There’s the usual festivities like street performers, dancing, plays, rides, food, et cetera. We’ve already contracted several specific entertainers to come. They’ll be arriving sporadically between now and the week before. The usual carnival events will arrive within a couple weeks but won’t be set up until a few days before the solstice.”

“Hang on a second.” As she read along through the dossier, Index paused on one particular name. “Who is Trixie Lulamoon?” The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her magic on it.

“She’s a traveling showpony. She performs a magic act under the stage name of the Great–”

And then it hit her. “Of course!” Index cried. She rose from her chair to pose dramatically on her legs. “Nopony could ever forget the Great and Powerful Trixie!” And then, since ponies were not bipedal, she fell back onto her seat. “She blew up the auditorium twice and the music room before they gave up and expelled her.”

“Er… Maybe we should reconsider–”

“No, no.” Index waved her hoof at the very thought of the idea. “This will be great. At a distance, there’s no better entertainment. And if she’s a showpony now, she must have developed some measure of restraint. Or swindled some poor insurance company. Either way, we would be remiss to deny the world Trixie.”

Mayor Mare accepted the disaster waiting to happen with a distinctly resigned mien. It would be just another day in Ponyville. “Right. Moving on. For the actual ceremony, Vinyl Scratch volunteered to manage the music and sound systems. You may know her as DJ Pon-3.”

Nodding along, Index internally frowned. She’d come here to get away from Canterlot culture. Vinyl wasn’t a snob or even a proper resident, but she still wondered how many more familiar names she would hear today.

“We also have no small number of carpenters, both professionals and hobbyists, in town building stages and other temporary structures. Big Macintosh of Sweet Apple Acres is in charge of that. His little sister, Applejack, is heading up catering for the reception of the notables. We’ve pushed her into working with a number of other ponies to even out her, well, her rather enthusiastic love of apples.”

Sweet Apple Acres, Index recalled, supplied the castle’s zap apple jam and cider. If that was their standard of quality for apple products, she saw no reason to complain.

“We also managed to get Octavia Melody and her group to come play at the reception.”

Of course. If you get one, you get the other. Octavia and Vinyl didn’t often do gigs together, but they did tend to take jobs in the same area and travel together.

Some of Index’s frustration must have slipped out onto her face as Mayor Mare asked, “Is that a problem?”

“Only for me.” In addition to having to avoid more ponies who knew the real her, Index knew Espionage was going to be a passive-aggressive pain in her flank when he found out Octavia would be so close to ground zero upon Luna’s return. Not that any of that mattered when it came to the festival. “Personal reasons,” she said in explanation. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, then next would be decorations. When the time comes, Pinkie will be in charge of that. Good news for you,” Mayor Mare said in jest. “You’ll have some guaranteed freedom from her.”

Index rolled her eyes.

“Lastly, we have a promise from the Royal Guard to help out with security and peacekeeping. They’re scheduled to arrive the week before the festival and will stay until the day after it’s over. We expect a huge influx of ponies during that time, so naturally, we’ll need their help. Last I heard, they intend to send somepony a week or so prior to that to work out the details.”

Great, another pony to avoid.

“Along a similar line of thought, we’re building a number of temporary inns to house visitors in. We’re unsure if we’ll be able to make enough in time or if we’ll have to resort to simpler structures.”

“If that becomes a major concern, I’ll put in a request for some magical assistance. The princess and the archmage will likely help clean up their own mess.”

“About that…” Mayor Mare hesitated before throwing caution to the wind. “Why is Ponyville hosting the Summer Sun Celebration at all? And on the thousandth anniversary, no less. Not that we’re not grateful, but it’s always been held in a larger city before. And we’re admittedly not nearly as well equipped to host it.”

“An excellent question.” After a brief pause for dramatic effect, Index replied, “I have no idea. From what I understand, you’d have to ask Princess Celestia or Archmage Twilight directly to get an answer. But if you want my speculations, I think they just want a day or two in the country to relax for once.”

Both mares stopped to enjoy a laugh, one of them at the sheer amount of irony in the statement.

“Anyway, if that’s everything important–” Index waited for the mayor to nod. “–then I should explain my job since this is Ponyville’s first time hosting one of these things. I’m not here to take over. I’m only here to ensure you don’t crash and burn. Otherwise, you have complete creative control. If you need my assistance or connections, you have them. If you need the crown to provide anything, I’m the mare to speak to. I’ll expect updates once in a while, but not in real time. Have fun with this, and make it your own. If you do well, the powers that be might add Ponyville to the regular list for hosting events.”

“We’d appreciate that. We have a healthy local economy with the main branch of the Apple family here, but we could really use the tourism.”

Rising, Index said, “It was good to meet you.”

“Likewise. I’ll have Amethyst keep our records up to date, so whenever you want an update, you can just ask her for them. If you have any questions, I’ll be glad to see you as well.”

Sugarcube Corner was by no means a large store, but it dedicated most of its floorspace to a mere two rooms. There was the kitchen, packed to the brim with ovens and raw ingredients, and then there was the dining area which boasted no less than thirty tables. When cleared out, the latter provided plenty of space for celebrations of all varieties and a bit of extra revenue from the guests placing special orders beyond the provided party fare.

Pinkie Pie had gone all out and invited several hundred ponies. The whirlwind of introductions had gone by so fast that even Index had trouble remembering every name. To her relief, Pinkie Pie hadn’t insisted on escorting her the entire night nor forcing her to carouse, which left her free to find a quiet corner to, as her mission required, socialize in peace while the party went on without her. In that, at least, it proved more enjoyable than the Grand Galloping Gala, a torture Celestia dragged her to annually so that they might suffer together.

With some hesitation, Index approached Vinyl first. She wasn’t as familiar with the mare as with Octavia but knew Vinyl to be of a tolerable sort who might be able to introduce her to other ponies so long as she didn’t give herself away. Indeed, Derpy, a cross-eyed, gray pegasus joined the conversation soon after. She was…nice. A bit clumsy, but nice. That was about all Index could say about her so far. She worked as a mailmare and had a filly with a local inventor.

An earth pony approached next. She had a cream colored coat and, notably for its atypicality, a dark blue mane and tail with a large stripe of fuchsia running through the middle. Index swore they’d met before but couldn’t recall when or where. Upon inquiry, she introduced herself as Bon Bon, worked as a confectioner in town, and said, “No, I don’t do any governmental work. Why do you ask?” She did admit to having been in Canterlot earlier in the day, however, so Index let the matter go as a face who’d stood out in a crowd.

After a bit of small talk, the four of them sat down together to play some local card game with a name Index had trouble pronouncing. It was, to her great surprise, a partner trick-taking game with an engaging level of strategy she intended to bring home with her.

“Pass.”

Play went from Derpy to Index herself. She eyed Vinyl on her left carefully, looking for a tell as to her game plan. With only five cards left, if Index misplayed, she could go out first and secure enough points for her team to win the game. The sunglasses she insisted on wearing both indoors and at night certainly didn’t help make the decision any easier, and reading body language wasn’t something Index was particularly good at to begin with.

Across the table, Index’s partner, Bon Bon, waited patiently and revealed little. She’d led a single full house this trick, and Index had no idea what her intentions were. Table talk wasn’t allowed, so it wasn’t like she could just ask. She might have a bomb left to counter the one Index was fairly certain Vinyl had, but then she might well be counting on her partner to be so prepared. Index had, after all, been in this exact same situation a few rounds ago.

Maybe I’m overthinking this. Hesitantly, Index lifted four sevens from her hand but stopped short of playing them. She pushed them back down, deciding to save the bomb in case Vinyl’s was smaller than–

Oh, horseapples. Now they know I have a four of a kind. No wait. I can bluff my way through this.

Index eyed Vinyl again, trying to double bluff her mistake away, only to see the mare smirk.

Curse these locals and their stupid game!

In a burst of frustration, Index plucked a full house from her hand and softly slammed it onto the pile. She looked at her opponent and noticed the small movements of Vinyl’s chest.

Argh! She’s laughing at me!

Vinyl laid her entire hand down on the trick. She had a five long straight flush.

Index gaped, stunned, and then collapsed onto the table. It didn’t even matter… Now even her own partner laughed at her. She groaned.

“You’re not that bad,” Bon Bon said reassuringly. “I’ve had worse partners.”

Derpy chimed in next. “I was terrible when I first played. You just need more experience.”

“Most of the game is learning how the other ponies at the table play,” Vinyl added.

“So you’re saying I could win if I get to know you better?” That’s conveniently in line with my mission.

“We,” Bon Bon corrected. “We could win.”

After a brief moment of hesitation, Index said, “Of course.” She supposed it was a partner game.

“Right.” Index didn’t check, but she felt certain Bon Bon rolled her eyes. “It’s not the only reason we lost, but your teamwork is abysmal.”

Index had no room to deny the accusation. She knew how to delegate, but she could barely remember the last time she’d worked in active cooperation with somepony other than Celestia.

“It’s too late to play again tonight,” Bon Bon began, “but I’m free tomorrow if you’re looking to kill time.”

It took a frustrating few seconds – perhaps the worst part of working undercover was the lack of public access to subspace storage – to find a clock on a wall. The night had barely set in. Ugh, that’s going to take some getting used to. Even without the magical modifications to her own circadian rhythm – something she would unfortunately be going without while in Ponyville – Index was a night owl by nature. Nonetheless, she accepted the offer.

“What about you two?” Bon Bon asked.

Vinyl replied first. “Nah. Mayor Mare is sending me to Canterlot for a few days. Apparently, the archmage pulled Tavi back early, so she wants the details of Tavi’s gig worked out asap.”

“Derpy?”

“I have to work late tomorrow. We’re expecting lotsa mail with the festival.”

Bon Bon hummed in thought. “Well, Lyra will want to play, of course. Octavia is out, obviously. Cheerilee will probably be busy…”

“Minuette mentioned she’d be in town,” Vinyl offered.

“Ooh, she hasn’t had time to play in a while. That’ll be fun.”

After cleaning up, Vinyl and Derpy excused themselves while Bon Bon explained when and where to meet tomorrow. It turned out that she lived on the outskirts of town, if a pony could call it that. Ponyville wasn’t big enough to warrant an outskirts. She also insisted on making the get together a dinner occasion as well.

With their arrangements made, Bon Bon left for home, and Index went back to prowling the fringe of the dwindling party. It wasn’t long before Pinkie Pie showed amazing restraint when she actually ended the affair and sent everypony home. To be honest, Index had expected the party to end only when the last pony left of their own volition.

“Now comes the after-party!” Pinkie Pie said, approaching at a springy bounce rather than anything sensible like a trot. “We’ll stay up all night playing games, telling each other about ourselves, and eating delicious sweets!”

“Er…” Index searched her mind for an excuse. She’d had enough of the pink one for today. “I’m pretty tired from my trip here and the party. I think I should just turn in for the night.”

“Okie dokie loki!”

Relief flooded Index. That had been much easier than expected.

“I’ll show you to our room.”

And there’s the rub. “Our room?”

“Yeah! The Cakes don’t have any extras, what with the restaurant and the kitchen, but don’t worry, silly. There’s plenty of space. I have the entire tower for myself.”

A tower? Despite herself, that aroused Index’s interest. Sugarcube Corner was built as gingerbread house with a cupcake structure sitting atop it. She’d written the latter off as decorative or maybe storage rather than livable space, but it seemed either Pinkie Pie or the Cakes had good taste. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad.

Up two flights of stairs, the pair entered Pinkie Pie’s cupcake tower. It had far too many balloons inside of it, but it otherwise looked remarkably normal for a mare’s room. It had a fireplace, surprisingly, as well as a staircase that led up to an internal balcony ringing the tower. The unusual design allowed for bunk beds with balcony access to the upper bed. Some remnant of foalhood innocence in Index approved.

There was also an alligator in the middle of the room.

“Uh…”

Pinkie Pie, following Index’s gaze, said, “Oh, that’s Gummy, my pet. He’s super friendly!”

“Gummy?”

“‘Cause he’s got no teeth.” Pinkie Pie proved this fact by prying the sleeping alligator’s mouth open, which oddly didn’t wake it.

Index shook her head. I’m not even going to question the madness. She’d seen weirder things today.

“Soooo,” Pinkie Pie said, “top bunk or bottom bunk?”

“Top of course.” As if there were any other choice. She thought about floating herself up to the bed, but Index restrained herself from showing off and climbed the stairs to the balcony like a normal pony. Pinkie Pie, it seemed, had anticipated her decision. Her bag lay just beside the top bunk.

After Index hopped into bed, Pinkie Pie turned off the light. The sound of rustling blankets came from below, and then all fell silent for five blissful seconds.

“Hey, Index? Why have you been avoiding magic all night?”

Caught off guard, Index hesitated a little too long before she replied, “What do you mean?”

“Weeeeell, earlier when you offered to refill Vinyl’s punch with your own, your horn lit up for the tiniest fraction of a second, and then you decided to get up and go over to refreshment table to work at close range. You’ve been doing that all night and all day. Just giving off these little blips of magic that never do anything before then going off to do something.”

This mare is unnaturally observant. And yet Index had made a cursory scan of Pinkie Pie – nothing which would attract attention or appear threatening – only to conclude that the mare was either a regular earth pony or a very skilled mage pretending very poorly to be one. After ruminating on how to respond, she eventually decided on, “It’s personal.”

Pinkie Pie hummed suspiciously.

To deflect further questions, Index posed one of her own. “What about you?”

“What about what about me?”

“You’re… I don’t even know.” Index hadn’t yet had the time to really sit down and analyze Pinkie Pie’s abilities. “For one, you’re…very fast?”

Pinkie Pie, giggling, said, “Of course I am. How else would I be able to throw such great parties and bring smiles to everypony in town?”

Even expecting the nonanswer, it still made Index scowl. But part of her wondered if Pinkie Pie even knew how she did it all. If she really was just a regular old earth pony, then her magic likely worked without any conscious effort on her part. The power set could change, but Index had no evidence to conclude the rule set had as well. Perhaps, even, it was just a conceptual limitation holding other earth ponies back. While there were clearly a few screws loose in Pinkie Pie’s head, it could be that her mental disconnect with reality allowed her magic to do more simply because she believed it could.

“So, where are you from?”

Pulled from her thoughts, Index replied, “Canterlot.”

“Ooh! We get a lot of commuters from Canterlot like Minuette, and we have a lot of commuters to Canterlot. Vinyl moved here with Octavia years ago, but Octavia got married recently and moved back to the city. Bon Bon heads up there often herself, and Lyra says she’s from Canterlot, but she never had your accent, so I wonder if she’s from from Canterlot or if she only moved here from there.

“Myself, I was born on a rock farm west of Appleloosa. My dad is Igneous Rock, and my mom is Cloudy Quartz. You didn’t hear it from me, but they’re a little boring. I have three sisters, Marble, Limestone, and Maud. The first two still live with our parents and help run the farm, but Maud is way different. She’s a geologist and the life of the party.

“What about your family?”

It took a few seconds for Index to realize that Pinkie Pie had asked a question and finally stopped talking. This, she knew, was going to be a long night. “Well, there’s my parents, my brother, my sister-in-law, my niece, and my son.”

“You’re a mom? What about your super special somepony?” Taking Index’s sigh as having asked the wrong question, Pinkie verbosely apologized for bringing up a missing partner.

Index corrected that assumption as soon as she could get a word in edgewise. “There’s nopony missing, dead, estranged, or otherwise out of touch with me. My son is adopted. And before you start up, there was no tragedy on his end either.”

“How old is he?”

I really need to keep a list of all the fabrications I weave to keep my story straight. Index surreptitiously kept a lot of lists and mental notes using a few nifty cantrips, not eager to let ponies see her OCD at its worst, but she’d never suspected she’d one day need to keep one for lies. Nonetheless, she recalled that she’d told Cheerilee that Spike was nine, so she did the same now with Pinkie Pie.

“He must be adorable!”

“Yes. He is. Very much so. He’s a wonderful son, but he can be a bit of a troublemaker. Even more so when he’s with his cousin.” Flurry wasn’t a bad influence, per se, but she did tend to lead them into trouble. “Though they’re nothing compared to the stories I heard tonight about the Cutie Mark Crusaders.”

“Oh, yeah. Those fillies really know how to have fun! Just a few days ago they put on a huge rock show for all of Ponyville, and the week before that they set fire to the pond across town, and before that–”

“Come again?”

“You didn’t hear about that one?” Pinkie Pie asked incredulously. “It’s probably the bestest, most exciting, mind-boggling thing they’ve done yet. It all started eleven days ago when Diamond Tiara bet that they couldn’t jump the pond…”

Author's Notes:

Zen Cheng You is a little known card game that needs more love. I have reproduced the rules here: http://www.fimfiction.net/blog/302554/zen-cheng-you-that-game-know-one-knew

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Behold! A shameless promotion for my Patreon.

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Revision Notes - July 10th (2020)

Chapter Four - Unexpected Complications

A wondrous display of magic suffused the air. It fractaled outward at an ever greater speed until the frontier finally vanished beyond sight. Two ponies watched, awestruck, the final culmination of a spell millennia in the making. One turned to the other. “But what does it do?”

The slow tolling of midnight resounded throughout the hall. Since the last time Twilight had visited, Canterlot Castle had undergone a dramatic change in decor to the point where she barely recognized it. It was as though the interior designer, in a fit of artistic angst, had determined that the sun motif had been overplayed and had decided to experiment with moons and stars.

Feeling a little stiff in the neck, Twilight adjusted her torc of office about her neck. It didn’t slide about her neck as easily as usual, oddly enough. She summoned a mirror to get a better look to discover that the ornate regalia she wore as the archmage had been replaced with a plain, enchanted collar. While that seemed strange to her, she thought nothing more of it once she’d shifted it into a more comfortable position.

A brisk trot through the corridors of the castle brought Twilight to a pair of large double doors which nearly reached the high ceiling. The guards posted at them let her pass with twin salutes. In the hall on the other side, she moved forward down the center aisle with faceless ponies on either side of her. It was almost as if she were…

A moment of realization brought clarity. Oh, ponyfeathers. I’m at open court. What on Equus possessed me to come here? I give all my reports to the queen in private.

Looking over the assembled ponies from the corner of her eye, for stopping to examine them would be a social faux pas even she wouldn’t make, Twilight recognized nopony in particular. She couldn’t even recall some specific plea she wished to weigh in on publicly. That brought a frown onto her face. Surely she had a reason to come here. Her memory was better than this.

At the end of the hall, Twilight dipped into a quick bow to her queen. She then scaled the dais to take her place upon the lesser throne beside her master’s. Once seated, she turned to the black alicorn above her. For a few moments, her eyes grew lost in the ethereal mane caught in an absent breeze. The stars in it lent it an otherworldly, dreamlike quality which she could study with the same passion as the night sky itself.

Twilight shook herself of her distraction. “What am I doing here, Queen Moon?” Something about that question felt off.

“Recall that this is your punishment for your disobedience last night, my faithful slave,” Nightmare Moon replied, mild amusement written on her face underneath the stern tone. “We both know corporal punishment doesn’t really work on you when I want the message to stick. Besides, I just love how you squirm with every pony you must deal with calmly and civilly.”

“I…see.” After a few moments to process the explanation, it all came rushing back. Twilight was Nightmare Moon’s plaything. She had been ever since she’d failed so spectacularly to save Celestia. “Thank you for reminding me of my place, my queen.” How could I forget?

Nightmare Moon nodded, satisfied with the response. “We’ll quash that little rebellious streak in you eventually. Then we won’t have to resort to such heavy hoofed measures to discipline you. There is still the second half of your punishment, of course. I thought it would be more…actively entertaining for me, shall we say, to give you to that one guard later tonight. You know, the one that doesn’t understand the meaning of no or what being repeatedly defenestrated might imply.”

The horrified look in Twilight’s eyes spoke for her and filled Nightmare Moon with a predatory mirth.

“I – no, you can’t–”

“Oh, but I can. You belong to me. And as it seems you need to be taught a real lesson to fully understand that.”

Nightmare Moon summoned a large collection of papers and notebooks. Eyes wide, heart stopping, Twilight gasped in shock. She’d gone to no small effort to keep her most precious research hidden from everypony, Celestia included, but Nightmare Moon had somehow gotten her hooves on it. The queen’s horn glowed an ominous cyan, making a show of carefully selecting a single sheet of paper and holding it aloft between them. And then she spoke the most terrible words imaginable.

“You didn’t think I would let you go through with this, did you? Even my sister would have balked no matter how much trust she claims to have in you. It amused me to watch you try, but it’s time to put an end to your delusions.”

The paper ignited, burning unnaturally slowly and crackling with maleficence.

Screaming in defiance, Twilight tried to summon up her magic to save her research. When that didn’t work, she leapt from her throne and snatched the paper from the air. The fire didn’t hurt her, but when she stomped on it, it wouldn’t go out. She watched it crumble away, powerless, and then fell to her knees and sobbed.

All that work, my life’s ambition, gone.

No. Not gone. Twilight’s head snapped up with a fire in her eyes. Most of it is still left. I can recreate what I’ve lost. I just need to–

A click of the tongue met Twilight’s defiance. “I had hoped we might burn through this more slowly, my rebellious slave, but you’ve clearly not learned your lesson. I think a more provocative image is in order.”

Nightmare Moon ignited the rest of the papers and notebooks before tossing them into the air. They flew about the hall, burning to ash and being destroyed forever. There were no other copies in the entire world, and Twilight didn’t know how much she could recreate purely from memory. It was over. It was all over. She’d been defeated on every level and had nothing left but to content herself with life as a slave to the mare who’d ruined everything.

Twilight awoke crying.

With all the horror stories I’ve heard, I never imagined the Everfree would be so dull. Moon Dancer had spent some time exploring what was left of the Old Castle, but the most interesting parts of it were a little too structurally unsound for her to feel comfortable stepping hoof in. Maybe next time she would bring some paperwork to tackle during her down time.

Moon Dancer’s gaze strayed to Magic sitting atop the pedestal in the throne room. It ‘hated’ Princess Celestia, in her own words, and she’d needed assistance to transport it back to the Old Castle to use as a stabilizing agent against the Everfree’s chaotic magic. Despite the princess’s recommendation to the contrary, Moon Dancer had indulged her curiosity and worn it during the flight over.

That had been a mistake.

Even at a vastly reduced power output, for the Element was not hers, Moon Dancer felt the call more strongly now that she’d exposed herself to Magic’s effects directly. Like a gravity well, if she stopped fighting it, it pulled her attention back to it. If her thoughts ever wandered, they wandered to it. It was a terrible distraction. She couldn’t imagine what Twilight had felt when parting with the Element.

“There.”

The quiet of the night broken, Moon Dancer’s attention turned back to Princess Celestia. She’d finished her latest spell, it seemed, and was busy reading through the revised spellwork Twilight had delivered with Magic before leaving yesterday. With a nod to herself, she passed the plans over to Moon Dancer with the usual request to double check her work.

Despite feeling a little out of her depth, Moon Dancer did as asked. She lit her horn and sent probing spells into the enchantments laid down in the castle with the lightest touch possible, wary of triggering any of the traps herself. They should only react to Princess Luna’s return from banishment, but it never hurt to be careful when poking lethal spells set on a hairpin trigger.

Satisfied with the results she obtained, Moon Dancer said, “You’re good,” and floated the instructions back to Princess Celestia. She hadn’t caught any mistakes yet, but a second horn was essential with this level of sensitive and dangerous detail work.

Outside the castle, beyond the protective wards Princess Celestia had placed to keep animals out, came first the cry of some poor creature falling prey to a predator and then the roar of triumph. A shiver ran through Moon Dancer as her gut twisted, but she pushed the incident from her mind. It was merely the circle of life, after all, when there were no ponies around to engineer the environment. It wasn’t even the first time she’d heard something similar tonight.

“I remember when this forest was the beating heart of civilization. Discord never liked to come here, which made it a safe haven for all sentient creatures. When Luna and I defeated him, we went home to our forest village and celebrated. Ponies flocked to us from near and far. Our home grew into a city. Our city became a capital. Families who had preserved scraps of knowledge from before Discord for generations emerged from hiding and joined our growing kingdom. For the first time in an era, we learned of our heritage and celebrated Hearth’s Warming. Thus was Equestria reborn.”

Moon Dancer, hyperventilating in silence, fought not to disturb the princess’s pensive mood. Was this what it was like to be Twilight? Did this happen all the time? That might possibly be the only firsthoof account of Equestria’s second founding in existence. Did Princess Celestia always impart such priceless knowledge to her faithful student on a whim, or was it her sister’s imminent return which made her careless and had her lost in memories?

One question slipped loose. In a low whisper, one easily ignored without discourtesy, Moon Dancer asked, “What happened?”

Princess Celestia took a slow, steady breath, filling her lungs to capacity before emptying them. Her gaze shifted from her work to the moon hanging in the sky above. “Luna and I fought. Our battle raged until I collapsed from exhaustion. In desperation, I used Magic to recall all of the Elements to me, but by then the damage had been done. Can you imagine how much magic we unleashed in our struggle?”

“Then the Everfree’s magic…”

“It’s ours,” Princess Celestia said solemnly. “Luna’s and mine. The forest took on a semblance of life before the dust even settled. Eternally locked in combat with itself, it greedily devours all magic within its reach, even my own, to gain the upper hoof. I always meant to return here and clean up my mess, but the centuries slipped away on me.” Softly, she added, “Perhaps Luna will find the time.”

A pregnant silence fell.

“Princess…” Moon Dancer hesitated. While she recalled the warning Twilight had given her back in Manehattan, this was Princess Celestia. It was lèse-majesté to even hint at her suspicions! But perhaps an oblique approach would be permissible. “You do believe in Twilight, right?”

Now that the question had left her lips, Moon Dancer felt the fool. Of course Princess Celestia believed Twilight would succeed in reawakening the Elements of Harmony. It was why they were going to all this effort to prepare for Princess Luna’s return, after all. She really shouldn’t have ever needed to ask.

Indeed, Princess Celestia replied, “Naturally. Equestria is in good hooves in her care.”

Thus reassured, Moon Dancer set aside her worries. Princess Celestia hadn’t given up. It’d been silly to think otherwise for even a moment. She only expected to have her sister back once this was all over.

When Princess Celestia finished casting the next spell, Moon Dancer found a minor mistake, one no doubt caused by the distracting conversation. It would work perfectly in its current form, but if left unaltered, it would interfere with the placement of a few other enchantments later down the line. She explained the error using Twilight’s annotations as a guide and walked Princess Celestia through the corrections.

When Twilight finally settled down and realized everything had just been a very vivid dream, Pinkie Pie was already at her bedside, holding her hoof and whispering meaningless words of reassurance. While the physical proximity unsettled her somewhat, she was too emotionally exhausted to freak out as she had upon her arrival to Ponyville.

“Feeling better?” Pinkie Pie asked. She squeezed a little tighter with her hooves for a moment.

“I’m fine,” Twilight said. As Pinkie Pie already knew she had more skill with magic than she let on, she ran her telekinesis over her body and pulled off everything that wasn’t attached to her, which included both sweat and tears. It wasn’t the perfect replacement for a bath, but it served well enough. She then went ahead and disintegrated the filth before getting back into character. “Just a bad dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Index could choose no words less firm than, “Absolutely not.”

But it seemed that wasn’t quite the end of it. Pinkie Pie didn’t let go of her hoof and instead stared at her in the oddest way Index had ever seen. It had a certain intimidation about it in a creepy sort of way, but Pinkie Pie otherwise didn’t have the right presence to pull it off if indeed she was trying to force Index to speak.

“What are you doing?”

“Aw, I guess only Fluttershy can do the Stare.”

With that unexplained statement, Pinkie Pie fell to the ground. It only occurred to Index then to wonder how she’d been there to begin with. The balcony was on the opposite side of the bed, and the other side was just a straight drop-off. When Index peered over the edge, she found no support system of any kind in place, just Pinkie Pie moving about on the floor.

“How did–” Index cut herself off when she remembered who she was dealing with. There’s no way I’m getting a real answer out of her. About this or the ‘Stare’. She made a mental note to ask later after the latter if she ever ran into whoever Fluttershy was.

Distracted, Index made the mistake of meeting Pinkie Pie’s gaze when she looked up. “Are you really, super duper sure you don’t want to talk about it? One time my sister Marble was having these really bad nightmares, and they really started getting to her until one day she ended up in a mining accident and had to be rushed to the city to see a doctor. She has a permanent limp in her left leg now, but during her stay in the hospital, some ponies finally got her to talk about her problems, and then all the nightmares went away.”

“Yes, I’m sure. Just go back to be–” A stray thought occurred that, upon inspection, turned into a brilliant idea. Index had zero interest in psychoanalyzing the mess of a nightmare she’d just experienced, but while she had Pinkie Pie right here, there was something she wanted to ask. “Actually, you know everypony in town, right?”

“Yep-er-rooney. Even grumpy, old Cranky Doodle Donkey on the outskirts of town. He was a tough nut to crack. I had to find his long lost love to get him to finally admit to being my friend, and before that I went through this whole big shebang, and that’s not even–”

“Pinkie! Focus!” For her, Index felt that was a very restrained response.

Of course, rather than oblige or be in any way helpful, Pinkie Pie gasped. “I’m getting through to you! That’s the first time you called me as just Pinkie! Oh, Index, we’re going to be the best of friends. I just know it!”

One facehoof later, Index said, “Can you please stop going on tangents?”

“That hasn’t worked out well in the past. Like the pony before the last who asked me to do that – oh, I’m doing it already.”

“Just… Just try, I guess.” Index sighed in resignation. “I wanted to ask a favor of you. Could you come up with a list of ponies in town that exemplify a specific character trait? Like, say, kindness?”

Without missing a beat, Pinkie Pie replied, “Weeeell, if you’re looking for kind ponies, then you need look no further than Fluttershy. Of course, almost everypony in Ponyville is kind in one way or another when they’re not all tied up in knots. There’s Applejack, and Rose, and Rarity, and the Cakes, and–”

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” Index muttered to herself as Pinkie Pie droned on in the background. I guess she did focus in on that Fluttershy mare right away. I’ll prioritize following up on that today.

With that plan set, Index interrupted Pinkie Pie’s endless list of ponies. “I get the idea. Same question, then, but for generosity, loyalty, honesty, and laughter.”

Pinkie Pie gasped once more. This one was far and away the single most exaggerated gasp Index had ever heard, lasting longer than a pony should have had room for air in her lungs without practicing circular breathing. And now that she thought about it, Index would not put it past Pinkie Pie to learn that skill just to do nonsense like this.

On another note, Index had a bad feeling about Pinkie Pie’s reaction. She quickly threw up the standard series of privacy spells to make eavesdroppers mind their own business, finishing just in time.

Pinkie Pie transitioned from her gasp into a high-pitched squee. “I can’t believe it! You have the Elements of Harmony, don’t you!”

Bad feeling confirmed. Reluctantly, Index replied, “Yes. I suppose it doesn’t matter that you know so long as you do not spread that information around.” It would also help if she didn’t have to hide her plans from her roommate.

“Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” The strange promise concluded with Pinkie Pie actually sticking her hoof in her eye.

Index arched an eyebrow but let the odd act pass as just another quirk of a pony who, she suspected, wasn’t entirely compatible with this reality. “I have to ask,” she then said. “How did you know about them?”

A giggle met the question, and then Pinkie Pie said, “There’s a book on them in Golden Oaks Library. The Elements of Harmony: A Reference Guide.”

Index’s eye twitched. “Why! I emptied the Canterlot Archives of every reference and related work and found practically nothing. I dug through the entire restricted section. I even pulled from Celestia’s own library. Why is there a reference guide in this backwater!”

Rather than take offense, Pinkie Pie said, “Ponyville isn’t a backwater, silly. Practically every northbound train from the south and west passes through town.”

“I…” To her great lament, Index found she didn’t actually have a response for that. “Whatever. Do you happen to know if anypony else has read the book?”

Pinkie Pie hummed in thought. “Not likely. Nopony has checked it out in a few hundred years according to the log inside it.”

That little statement revealed, in the absence of a pure coincidence of timing, either a startlingly strong memory or that Pinkie Pie had somehow worked out how to improve her retention via her own magic. Both only added to the enigma. Photographic memory was rare, and mind magic was as far from trivial as a pony could get.

Unconcerned, Pinkie Pie continued on with her deep insights delivered as a ramble. “Which is odd ‘cause Ponyville isn’t even a hundred years old. Whoever the librarian before Rhyme was must have reused the log when the book was moved to Golden Oaks. We get a lot of old books from Canterlot, you know. You can tell by the musty smell they have.”

It was at this point that Index concluded that Pinkie Pie was actually a genius. Now she only needed to determine if the mare was obfuscating insanity or if Pinkie Pie had some sort of mental disorder. Her bits were on the latter.

“But who cares about that!” Pinkie Pie suddenly exclaimed. She rushed over to her wardrobe and started throwing clothes out until she shouted, “Eureka!” She then stepped inside the wardrobe – Index didn’t even care to contemplate how she fit at this point – and changed into a mismatch of clothes consisting of a deerstalker hat with pipe, a giant foam sword strapped to her back, and a black shinobi shōzoku from Neighpon.

That explained so much and yet created so many more questions.

Pinkie Pie put the pipe between her lips and blew into it. Bubbles came forth from the other end. As she indulged in this frivolous act, she put one hoof on her jaw and stroked it thoughtfully. “Yes, yes. This is a quest if ever I saw one, my dear Index. It will require cunning, stealth, and probably strength. Whether of mind, heart, or body, I do not know. But fear not! Pinkie Pie is here, and I shall help you bear this burden.”

Yeah, no. “The most helpful thing you could do is direct me towards ponies who could bond with an Element. The rest…” Index heaved a resigned sigh as she thought of the ordeal awaiting her. “The rest I need to deal with on my own.”

“Nonsense!” Pinkie Pie said, thrusting her sword out with a dramatic flair. “On a quest, you need a party with you–”

Index facehoofed.

“–and I guarantee that you won’t find a better party pony in Equestria. Oh! By the way, are you the bearer for the Element of Magic, or do you have a friend somewhere already working on the main quest line?”

Eyes closed, Index forced herself to run through Cadance’s breathing exercise, clear her mind, and ultimately release the urge to throw in the towel and teleport home. Why did I have to choose Ponyville? “Yes, Magic is mine, but there’s no adventuring that needs doing and thus no adventuring party that needs forming. If you’re looking for that sort of excitement, join the EIS.”

Her sword sagging sadly to the floor, Pinkie Pie responded, “No thanks. I mean, I’m sure their work is important and all, but I don’t think I could do it.” She paused, thoughtful for a moment, and blew more bubbles from her pipe. “You know, I don’t really know much about you. Everything you’ve told me could just be a cover. You could secretly be the best field agent in the history of Equestria! Ooh! Or this could all be an elaborate disguise. Maybe you’re a shapeshifter. Are you even a mare? Not that I mind sharing my room either way, of course. Hmm, but perhaps you’re not even a pony. You’re a spellcaster, so it’d have to be a unicorn-like species.”

Pinkie Pie suddenly leapt up to somehow perch herself on the edge of edge of the top bunk. There she locked eyes with Index and asked in a perfectly serious tone, “Are you a seapony?”

What did I do to deserve this? “No,” Index said flatly. “Just…no. I’m not a seapony. Neither hippogriffian nor the naturally occurring kind.” Not that the former had the right type of magic to qualify. “I don’t work for the EIS.” They worked for her. “And I assure you that I’m one hundred percent female.” She freely admitted she didn’t like being male regardless of species and avoided it whenever possible. “Nor am I a…”

It occurred to Index that few ponies even knew changelings existed, and the magic required to reshape the body was obscure and prohibitively difficult. It didn’t even show up that often in fiction. “Are you just throwing everything you’ve ever read about at the wall and seeing what sticks?”

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first shapeshifter to come to Ponyville.”

Index buried her first response and more evenly asked, “How do you know that?”

“Observation,” Pinkie Pie replied without a hint of deception. “At first I was like, ‘Wow, she must be going through a growth spurt or something,’ but then the changes happened again but in reverse, and everyday there’s these little minor differences, so I knew something was up. I asked around and heard about the polymorph spell from a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend who works in Princess Celestia’s school.”

That…is an impressive information network for a civilian. And she proves her observational skills once again. It was time to reevaluate Pinkie Pie’s role in this venture. She clearly had a lot to contribute and the inclination to do so. It didn’t matter in comparison to the stakes at risk if her personality grated or if she made Index feel vulnerable.

Thus Twilight teleported out of her covers past the obstruction in her way to the floor, where she deftly landed upright on her hooves. With a light application of magic, she rearranged a few of the furnishings in the room to provide her and Pinkie Pie with a table and cushions to have a serious conversation over tea. She then pulled the necessary equipment for brewing said tea from her bag of holding and invited Pinkie Pie to sit down.

“That was amazing!” Pinkie Pie said. For some reason, she vibrated rapidly as she did so.

Twilight conjured some mineral water to fill the teapot. As she adjusted its temperature independently of its container, she watched Pinkie Pie with a wary eye. “Are you well? You seem to be…oscillating.”

Her huge smile was answer enough, but Pinkie Pie added, “Never better!”

“Right…” Twilight would take her word for it. “Anyway, we need to have a proper conversation, and a friend of mine always insists on tea in these sorts of situations.” Come to think of it, Celestia hadn’t broken out the kettle at all since the subject of her sister had come up. That was a bit of a red flag. Hopefully Moon Dancer was proving to be good company for her.

As Twilight went about preparing the tea, a skill Celestia had successfully pounded into her skull despite her disinterest, she divided her thoughts and turned inward.

So, we’ve bought ourselves a respite, Overseer said. Let’s quickly decide what we think of Pinkie Pie.

Immediately, Advocate said, She’s insane.

Possibly, Opposition replied, but that’s not really the point. However much she leaves out and despite the leaps in logic she makes, her behavior and conclusions are directed and correct. She’s odd, yes, but so are we. Besides, that’s not really the right question. We need to decide what we want to do with her. After a moment, she added, You know, beyond tying her down to a lab table as an experimental subject.

As much as I hate to suggest it, we should fully bring her in if we can. She’s too useful to ignore.

Although Opposition agreed with the idea in principle, she asked, Can we trust her?

Advocate shrugged. If she meant any immediate harm for whatever reason, she could have planted a knife in our chest upon our first meeting.

A shudder ran through Twilight as she poured the tea in the real world. Maybe dealing with so many cultists, evil sorcerers, and the like had given her a bad case of paranoia, but being undercover, being without all of her magical defenses in place, it made her feel on edge. The presence of anypony she couldn’t swat like a bug with a thought, a category which she strongly suspected Pinkie Pie belonged to, only made the unease grow.

I suppose you have a point, Opposition admitted. We can defer ultimate judgment until the solstice draws near.

It was then that Advocate put forth a horrible idea. We could befriend her.

She’s our total opposite. It’s not going to work.

Why not? Advocate asked. She seems to want to be friends with everypony, and she seems like somepony useful to be friends with in return.

Pretty sure you’ve got the definition of friendship wrong, Opposition dryly remarked. The Elements, I’m sure, would disapprove.

While likely true, Twilight refused to be bound by some ancient set of magical artifacts’ code of conduct. If she was going to make a bunch of friends and harness the literal power of friendship into a magical rainbow of doom, she was going do it on her own terms.

Continuing from where she’d left off, Advocate said, It’s not like it would be hard, and Pinkie Pie seems like the forgiving type if we mess up. All we’d really have to do is tone down the impulse to lash out when she surprises us.

Opposition remained unmoved.

It costs us literally nothing to attempt, Advocate added. If we can’t score a win here on easy mode, we should find out now so we can go home and enjoy what time we have left with Celestia.

It came slowly and rather begrudgingly, but Opposition said, Fine.

So agreed and with tea in magic, Twilight took her place opposite Pinkie Pie at the table. “Sugar, I assume?” She’d hardly needed to wait for Pinkie Pie’s response to know to add a few lumps. It was perhaps not the wisest idea with the mare still twitching up a storm on occasion, but worse come to worst, she’d just cast a sleep spell and be done with it.

Twilight took her first sip of the tea. It was…passable. She’d brewed worse. When she set the cup down, she spoke. “So…Pinkie.” The mare in question interrupted with a quiet squee but calmed down, relatively speaking, quickly enough. “In taking advantage of your help, and more importantly your silence, I would be remiss not to be more honest with you. But before that, I’d like to know who the local polymorph is and how long you believe she’s been here.” Changelings typically didn’t make the kind of mistakes Pinkie Pie had described – they were biologically wired not to – and simple illusions were easy for anypony to spot when they didn’t sync properly with the target.

“Lyra Heartstrings,” Pinkie Pie replied, a questioning look quickly passing over her face. “She’s been here and her for six years, a season, and twenty-two days.”

Even expecting an more detailed answer than most ponies would give, Twilight still nearly choked on her tea. “That’s very accurate.”

“Thank you!”

“And suspicious,” Twilight added. It wasn’t all that unusual for a unicorn to modify small things they disliked about themselves longterm. For example, illusions which altered the color of a mane were well within reach of the skill level most unicorns possessed. Physical, full body changes, however, required exponentially more talent and raw power to maintain. In her experience, that indicated the subject had something to hide. Even deep cover EIS agents typically stuck to simpler spellwork, if any.

Pinkie Pie, as might have been expected, didn’t see it that way. “Lyra is super nice and my friend. She’s never done anything wrong.”

“We’ll see. I happen to have a meeting arranged with her” – Twilight briefly pulled a watch from her bag of holding – “tonight, so I’ll determine what action I need to take then.”

Although a frown met that compromise, Pinkie Pie accepted it without further protest.

“Now what questions do you have for me? I’m willing to answer most any relevant question.”

“Ooh, ooh, ooh!” Pinkie Pie flailed her hoof around in the air as if waiting to be called upon. “I want to know the big one! Who are you really?”

Twilight sighed. Might as well rip that bandage off right away. She melted her disguise, reshaping herself back into her base appearance. “Twilight Sparkle. I would introduce myself further, but I fear my reputation will proceed me.”

Without warning, Pinkie Pie’s vibrations increased until she bounced a not insignificant fraction of her own height repeatedly off the ground. Her body contorted in a some strange way each hop, even swelling up like a balloon once before rapidly deflating back to normal.

“Uh…”

Unfazed by what had just happened – which led Twilight to, distressingly, conclude that it wasn’t unusual – Pinkie Pie said, “Oh my! I knew it was going to be a doozy, but this is so exciting! I want to throw you a proper welcome party soooo bad, but I can’t break a Pinkie Promise.”

“Wait, what?” This wasn’t how ponies usually reacted to coming face to face with Equestria’s archmage. “Do you actually have a good impression of me?”

“Of course! Everypony does. The half of town that doesn’t idolize you is in love with you.”

Twilight gaped. When she finally recovered the ability to speak, she only managed, “Well, that’s…new.”

“How is that new? It’s like that all over Equestria, silly!”

“That’s impossible.” She might not be the most socially gifted pony in Equestria, but she wasn’t blind. “Everypony I interact with is always terrified of me, nervous I’m going to do something awful to them, hates me, or reluctantly works for me.”

“Wow, you don’t get out much, do you?”

Despite herself, Twilight weakly shook her head.

“That explains so much. You and your brother are the shining–” There Pinkie Pie giggled. “–example of what the common pony can accomplish through merit instead of birthright. Everypony has read something about what you do for Equestria. For Celestia’s sake, you stand side by side with the princess herself at public events!”

All of Twilight’s muscles went lax as she struggled to process this strange new facet of reality. Her cup of tea fell out of her magic and crashed onto the table, but she repaired it and cleaned up after herself with barely a thought. Then, once her mind stopped glitching, she carefully sounded out, “You’re telling me I’m popular?”

“Yep!”

“That’s… I don’t… Please give me a minute to absorb that before you ask any more questions.”

“Take all the time you need,” Pinkie Pie replied. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

It wasn’t the first time this had happened, but all three friends mourned the loss of their clubhouse nonetheless. Although it would never be the same, they would rebuild. They would always rebuild. If there was one thing they could do better than anypony else, it was to carry on in the face of failure. Their clubhouse would rise again greater than ever before as a reflection of the skills they’d gained over the past few seasons.

Three knocks of a gavel upon their temporary lectern, an old water barrel, broke their moment of silence. Then in a deep twang so common to the Apple family, Apple Bloom said, “I call this meeting of the Cutie Mark Crusaders to order. Seeing as the mayor is real upset with us and says we can’t do anything like our usual activities for the next few weeks–”

“It’s your fault,” Scootaloo accused, a glare in her eyes. “Your design didn’t work.”

Sweetie Belle’s eyes drifted to the still smoldering remains of their trebuchet nearby.

Holding up her hooves in apology, Apple Bloom said, “Now, now. I admit to being partially at fault, but my latest work worked just fine. I just forgot to account for the trees.”

“In other words,” Scootaloo said flatly, “it didn’t work.”

Apple Bloom’s eye twitched. “Well, who was the pegasus that went and messed up her glide?”

“Oh yeah? Well, who put a gouge in the sling-release mechanism?”

“Who dropped the payload on our clubhouse!”

“Who didn’t–”

“Girls, please.” Sweetie Belle stepped between her two friends who, by now, were muzzle to muzzle and pushed them apart. “At the end of the day, are we not all covered in tree sap?”

That managed to get a snicker out of them both, something which soon turned into full blown laughter. The two quickly apologized and made up. It was nopony’s fault. It was never anypony’s fault. Once that was over with, the meeting resumed.

“Does anypony have an idea for what we can do today?” Apple Bloom finally got around to asking.

“Yeah, I’ve got a bunch.”

With a nod, Apple Bloom said, “Go ahead and share, Scoots.”

“We could try stilts.”

“No!” It sounded harmless enough, but even if they kept getting into disaster after disaster, Sweetie Belle could learn from their mistakes. “Mayor Mare would put us under house arrest. Remember what happened with our pogo sticks?”

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo cringed in unison. That hadn’t been one of their better days. The former, however, made a weak attempt at a defense of her invention. “Hey, we get a whole bushel of funding from the royalties.”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo said, “but there’s a reason why they’re not popular in Ponyville.”

Disheartened, Apple Bloom admitted the point with a simple, “Fair.”

“We could try pet sitting,” Scootaloo offered.

Sweetie Belle had to shoot that idea down. “Rarity is allergic to most pets. If I came home covered in, well, anything but cat hair, she would have a conniption. Whenever Fluttershy comes over, she scrubs the entire boutique clean afterward.”

“How about mountain climbing, then?”

This time Apple Bloom objected with the obvious. “We don’t have a mountain to climb.”

“I guess. We could just read?”

“Really, Scoots?” Apple Bloom said with some incredulity. “Reading? Did Rainbow Dash pick up a book or something?”

Scootaloo folded her arms together in a huff. “Well, fine. If you’re going to be like that, never mind.”

Privately, Sweetie Belle said, I like reading. Granted, she mostly like to read about magic, which none of the other Crusaders would really benefit from, but that counted.

“I didn’t really want to anyways. I just thought we needed to expand our activities since none of us have gotten a cutie mark yet.” Scootaloo next offered, “How about making sweets?”

Apple Bloom, skeptical, said, “I’m rather more on the consumption side, myself. Besides, the Cakes’ and Bon Bon’s grub would be way better than whatever we can cook up.”

“Then I’m out of ideas.”

The two turned to Sweetie Belle. She, however, had nothing to give. “Sorry, but Rarity has needed my help around the boutique lately. I have nothing.” Her friends took that well. While she had the dubious privilege of actually having parents, like her friends, she knew how difficult life without them could be at times.

“All right,” Apple Bloom said. “How about we help my sister, then? Applejack was looking for some help with corralling the cows.”

Sweetie Belle thought for a moment. It might violate the spirit of what amounted to the parole the mayor had put them under, but they were just helping Apple Bloom’s sister. Surely that had to be allowed. She looked to Scootaloo. They nodded to each other, and then nodded to Apple Bloom in turn.

In unison, the three shouted their oft changing motto. “Cutie Mark Crusaders, corralers! Yay!”

Index had little time to ponder how much magic she should use to not die. Quickly, she settled on an old favorite and levitated herself several meters into the air. From that safe vantage point, she watched the disaster unfold below her in bemusement.

What on Equus is a stampede doing in town?

Upstream of the rampaging cattle, she saw three fillies, one of each pony tribe, desperately trying to stop, or at least redirect, the stampede. In the other direction at the front of the line, a fully grown orange earth pony mare was having much more success at averting damage to the town.

Hmm… Were she here as the archmage, Index could end this with a thought and then get on with her day without the distraction. Alas, she was not. There’s no way I can magic up an instant fix to this and not draw attention. Being a local hero might act as a social lubricant of sorts, but… I don’t know. It feels like too much. I’m not really looking for hero worship.

Index weighed the scales and settled on a compromise. She would let the mare at the head of the stampede handle the matter. She seemed competent. Index, meanwhile, would float along at a more relaxed pace and keep watch for trouble further down the line.

As the stampede appeared relatively cohesive, the cattle involved largely following the road through town, Index’s attention drifted to the three fillies attempting to help who were, very obviously, inexperienced and in the most danger.

Although now that Index took a closer look, the earth pony one was performing remarkably well. Her kicks to prod diverging cows back into line were well intertwined with her gallop. While she sported a little discolored flesh beneath her coat that looked likely to turn into a nasty bruise, she held her own. Beneath the mud accruing on her coat as she ran beside the road rather than on it, she bore a distinct resemblance to the mare at the front of the stampede.

Probably sisters. She’ll be fine.

The pegasus filly was keeping up, if nothing else. Almost all pegasi could fly at her age, but she’d chosen an odd combination of wings and scooter to move fast enough over the ground to be considered part of the stampede. She didn’t help much, but she was clearly trying her best.

Index cast a magnification spell to get a better look at the filly’s wings. Something about them seemed off.

Hmm… I’d need to perform a full examination to be sure, but her primary feathers look stunted. That would explain the scooter, I suppose. Index made a note to talk with the health care department when she had the time. She wasn’t an expert on wings, but such conditions should be manageable, if not outright curable. The occasional growth spell, at the very least, would allow her to generate enough lift for flight without straining herself.

Assuming the filly’s magic wasn’t crippled as well, of course. A shudder ran through Index at the thought. What a short, miserable life that would make for. Ponies were as much their magic as they were the flesh they walked around in, inseparable and indivisible. When one died, so too did the other. In most cases, the flesh was the first to wear down, but there were exceptions.

Shaking off such morbid thoughts, Index turned to look upon the unicorn filly. She was doing…less well than her friends – far less well. Not that it was any surprise, given the respective advantages of each tribe, but she was clearly the least athletic of the trio. It didn’t help that ponies were made for sprinting and cows for endurance. She panted for breath as she struggled to keep pace with the adult bovines moving at their full gallop.

Much to Index’s interest, however, the filly wore roller skates powered by both muscle and magic. A hint of a smile pulled at her lips. Clever. Reminds me a bit of myself when I was young and innocent.

After a time, the unicorn filly looked up and noticed Index floating overhead. Eyes wide, she stumbled over a dip in the road in her surprise. She twisted her head as she fell to bring the stampede threatening to crush her into view. Rather than cast a spell or take evasive action, however, her arms moved to protect her head and neck.

Good instincts, but they need a little refining.

Reacting immediately, Index plucked the filly from the ground before any harm could come to her. Held suspended in midair, she had her eyes closed and her arms covering her neck to supplement the protection her helmet offered. It wasn’t the worst move she could have made. She probably would have survived if the stampede ran her over, but she likely wouldn’t have escaped unscathed. Some part of Index wondered what she got up to for this to be her natural first reaction to danger. Ponies as a species tended more toward panic and flight when untested.

A few seconds passed before the filly cautiously lifted her head. Surprisingly, she froze rather than flailed but wore a terrified look on her face all the same as she stared at the passing herd below her and spoke some voiceless words between heavy breaths. Before too long, Index drew near enough to hear her over the stampede.

“–please, oh please, don’t let me fall mysterious floating magic. Thank you for saving me, but–”

“You’re welcome,” Index said.

Startled, the filly’s head shot up.

“Relax. I won’t drop you. You’re safe.” Index pulled her prize up to eye level. “Luckily enough. This seems like something you should have left to your friends.”

When the filly’s surprise finally passed, she shouted out between slowing gasps for air, “Thank you so much! I was so scared that was going to be the end of me.”

“No need to thank me. It did look like I distracted you to begin with.” As Index said this, she cast a subtle little spell to help the filly regain her breath that passed unnoticed beneath her telekinesis.

“Well, this stampede is kind of, sort of, a little bit our fault…”

Index arched an eyebrow but didn’t inquire further. Instead, she shifted their relative positions to set the filly down on her back. She then dropped her magical grip on the filly to give the calming illusion of a simple ride on her back. It seems I finally get to experience the other side of this conversation. She’s not as young as I was, but no matter.

“You don’t need to worry about that right now,” Index said assuringly. “I know how scary near death experiences can be. Whatever part you played in this, just forget about it for now.”

The filly said nothing to indicate the message had sunk in but asked, “Where are we going?” Now that she’d settled down and had her breath back, she spoke with an affected Canterlot accent. It wasn’t exactly wrong, per se, but she’d clearly never spent a day of her life in the capital. Index politely chose not to comment and answered her question.

“Well, as I’ve already gotten involved, I might as well make sure nopony else gets into any trouble. Your friends will probably worry when they realize you’re missing, too, so I figured I’d give you a lift along the way.”

“Whoa! You’re like a hero!”

“Like?” Index felt she deserved more than a like.

“You are a hero! Even cooler than Archmage Twilight!”

Index’s eye twitched at the mention of her real name. She’d thought she’d made peace with her alleged popularity after Pinkie Pie had gone back to bed, but it seemed all evidence – what little there was to be had – was to the contrary.

“You…like the archmage?”

“Who would not?” the filly replied with the kind of dreamy quality that only came from a foal who’d never met her hero. “I mean, I heard she has a temper, but she is the most amazing unicorn in the world!”

“What happened to me?”

“Oh, uh, except for you, of course.”

Index rolled her eyes. This filly certainly wouldn’t be getting the Element of Honesty.

“And my big sister. Hmm… No, just you. Rarity is too prissy and scared of getting her hooves dirty. She’s far too prim and proper.”

I see. Well, that explains the affected accent. Ugh. And here I thought I’d left Canterlot behind. Regardless, Index knew precisely how to progress this conversation now. “I saw what you were doing with your roller skates back there. That’s pretty impressive yourself.”

“Thanks!” the filly chirped warmly. “I came up with that a few weeks ago so I could keep up with Scootaloo and Apple Bloom.”

Index paled. Oh, no. She’d gotten names but not descriptions. I’m trying to tutor a Crusader. She chanced a hesitant backward glance at what must be their third member and saw exactly what she expected. Sweetie Belle wore a huge grin which perfectly mirrored her own when she’d been that age and spoke of magic. Although she feared what agent of chaos she might unleash upon the world, she couldn’t say no to that.

“That makes you the third Crusader, Sweetie Belle, right?”

An enthusiastic, “Uh-huh!” met the question.

“Have you been studying magic long?”

“For years. Ever since my sister brought home a copy of 103 Spells Every Unicorn Should Know from Canterlot.”

Index’s ears perked up at the title. Ponies actually read that? Huh. Maybe it hadn’t been such a waste of time to write that textbook for Celestia’s school. “How many spells have you learned from it?”

“Only the easier ones,” Sweetie Belle replied, the disappointment in herself evident in her voice. “I’ve learned other spells, too, but… Well, Ponyville is an earth pony town.”

It was, sadly, an imperfect education system that existed in Equestria. “Do you not have magic kindergarten here?” Index asked. “Flight camp?” When she received negatives to both questions, she let out a displeased hum. It didn’t come as some great shock given the local demographics, but it disappointed her all the same.

Regardless, she’d not come here to institute rural educational reforms. Index asked, “So how many spells have you learned in total?”

Index felt Sweetie Belle sit a little taller before she proudly proclaimed, “I have but six left before I reach one hundred.”

To the claim, Index returned an impressed hum. She’s about…ten…eleven, maybe, years old. Shining, I think, is sitting at around a thousand. Mom and Dad are only a bit past a hundred. The average unicorn isn’t even half that. Not bad. I think I see a magic focused cutie mark in her future. She snorted to herself. But no wonder she’s a Crusader. Those are hard enough to get in the best of circumstances, and her environment certainly isn’t doing her any favors.

After reminding herself to be careful not to slip into the first person, Index said, “You can color me impressed. Is your goal to be like the archmage, then?” How strange those words felt to utter.

“Yeah! I know I’ll likely never even meet her, but my sister always says to dream big.”

“You could become a singularly easily reformed supervillain. You’d get her attention and probably a job offer.” Index regretted the joke the moment she’d made it. With the stories Pinkie Pie had told her about the Cutie Mark Crusaders, Sweetie Belle might actually take the suggestion seriously and follow through. She twisted her head around to stare her passenger in the eye and emphatically commanded, “Don’t.”

Sweetie Belle looked far too contemplative for Index’s liking. “But what if–”

“Don’t.” Index turned her eyes back onto the stampede below her and breathed deep to calm herself. She would not be responsible for creating a mess so easily avoidable. “Look, I know the archmage, okay?”

A moment after Sweetie Belle gasped, she lunged forward, an excited bounce in her frame, to wrap her hooves around Index’s neck and cried, “You do?”

“Yeah.” What exactly did I tell Cheerilee again? Oh, right. “I do odd jobs for her and the princess. We also went to magic kindergarten together.”

“Whoa,” Sweetie Belle whispered in awe. “What was she like?”

“Eh, asocial. Completely uninterested in everypony else. Her passion was magic even then. That’s not the point. Let’s bring this back to what we were discussing before we got sidetracked. How many spells do you think she knew at that age?”

Sweetie Belle considered the question and made all sorts of odd humming noises in the process. “It must either be really low or really high for you to be asking.” After a few more seconds, she guessed, “A thousand?”

“Well, you went in the right direction, but if you asked her directly, she would tell you, ‘I don’t know.’”

“I guess I’d lose track if I knew that many spells too.”

Index shook her head. “You misunderstand. You’re not wrong, but that’s not the reason she would give you. Tell me, have you ever invented your own spell?”

“No. Inventing spells is really hard without inspiration from your special talent.”

“Bah!” Twilight said, slipping out of character for a moment. While valuable insights could come from such spells, they were gifts hoofed over on a silver platter to their ‘inventors’. Neither science nor even true understanding played any part in the process. Checking herself before she destroyed her masquerade, Index added, “The archmage was already doing it in magic kindergarten without a cutie mark. On the fly even.”

“What!”

“Granted, most of her creations either failed outright or blew up in her face until…” Index cleared her throat. “Never mind. Not important. That, too, is not the reason she would give you. She knew plenty of spells. She could invent more as needed. Yet neither of these explains her response. I hope that lends weight to the wisdom I’m about to impart to you.”

“Of course,” Sweetie Belle said as solemnly as an eager filly could.

“Then this is what she would say.” Index paused for effect and felt Sweetie Belle draw unconsciously closer. “Every spell has a thousand uses and every use has a million spells which fulfill it. I don’t know a number high enough to estimate how many spells I know because, by the way you count spells, every one I know is worth more than all of the ones you know put together.”

Now that they were out of Ponyville, Index blindly followed the sound of the stampede and turned her gaze back to Sweetie Belle. Trying to imitate Celestia as best as she could, she asked, “Do you understand the meaning?”

“I think so…” Haltingly, Sweetie Belle put her thoughts into words. “Basically, she’s saying that spells have more than one use.”

“And one spell used wisely…” Index prompted when Sweetie Belle faltered.

A moment passed, and then Sweetie Belle’s eyes widened. “–is better than a thousand used poorly. So what she really values is…creativity?”

“Exactly!”

Sweetie Belle’s excitement and wide smile turned into sudden panic. “Watch out for that–”

Index turned away from Sweetie Belle to check in front of her and immediately face planted into an apple tree.

“…tree,” Sweetie Belle finished once they’d hit the ground. “Are you all right?”

“Peachy.” The good news was that the stampede had slowed down outside Ponyville, so Index hadn’t hit the tree as fast as she could have. The bad news was magic couldn’t heal her pride. She had half a mind to throw subtlety to the wind and restore all of her defensive enchantments. This village clearly had it out for her. At least they hadn’t been trampled in the interim with a solid barrier behind them. The tree was good for something, it seemed.

Sweetie Belle dismounted and ran a semicircle about Index. Standing upright on her legs, she inspected the forming bruise just above Index’s nose and then the scrape on her forehead.

“I said I’m fi–”

Sweetie Belle’s magic swelled, and Index felt the bruise heal. The spell had been well formed and executed with a practiced horn. A few moments later, she attempted to heal the scrape with equal skill, but Index dispelled the magic before it took effect.

To Sweetie Belle’s confused look, Index said, “I’m young and healthy like you and your friends, but an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.” She then walked her temporary protégé through a disinfectant spell. Sweetie Belle learned delightfully quickly with an expert at hoof to guide her, and soon, it was done. A second spell right after healed the now cleaned scrape.

“Good work,” Index said. “I take it you Crusaders injure yourselves often?”

Sweetie Belle nodded. “When we first met, we got in a lot of trouble…” She pursed her lips together. “Well, we still get in a lot of trouble. But back then we got in a lot of trouble for coming home hurt. I learned some healing magic so our guardians would stop scolding us.”

‘Guardians’? The next time she stopped by town hall, Index resolved to find out if Ponyville’s flag was just a big red flag. “Nice initiative,” she said when nothing more appropriate leapt to mind.

Sweetie Belle absorbed the praise like a bone-dry sponge.

Exactly how starved is she for a magical authority figure in her life? Sweetie Belle really needed to find an education before some unicorn with less than noble intentions found her. “How about some homework?”

It was a cautious optimism which met the question. It’d caught Sweetie Belle’s interest, certainly, but presumably only if it wasn’t boring or tedious.

A smirk crept onto Index’s face. She could work with that. “Take a spell you know. Any will do, but no medical spells. Those have nasty side effects when used improperly. Anyway, take that spell and think of thirty nonstandard ways you can use it. Don’t expect it to be easy. Come find me once you’re done. I’m staying with Pinkie Pie at Sugarcube Corner. Ask for Index Code.”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

Index approved of the alacrity on display. Nodding, she turned her gaze from Sweetie Belle to the direction the stampede had left in. “Do you need an escort the rest of the way, or will you be fine catching up to your friends on your own?”

“I’ll be fine. Apple Bloom’s home is close by.”

“Now I know you were just trying to help, sugarcube, but what you did was the plumb opposite.”

“Eeyup,” Big Macintosh agreed with Applejack.

Apple Bloom sighed. “I know, Sis. We were trying, honest, but…stuff happened.”

Of course, that fell on deaf ears. Applejack gave Apple Bloom a look that promised a further talking to later. Then she looked around with furrowed brows. “Where’s Sweetie Belle gone off to? Rarity will be awful sore with us if we lost her.” Raising her voice, she called out for the absent Crusader.

“I’m coming!” The filly in question approached from far off on the path to the corral, skating gently along at a casual pace.

“Well, that’s something, at least,” Applejack muttered.

When she finally arrived, Sweetie Belle said, “Hey, everypony. How did the rest of the corralling go?”

“It went just fine, sugarcube, but it shouldn’t of been necessary to begin with.”

Apple Bloom remained willfully ignorant to the look her sister gave her and went over to Sweetie Belle, inspecting her for any sign of injury. “You’re all right, right? I saw you were tiring mighty fast, but the whole town could of been in trouble if I didn’t stick with the herd.”

“I understand. I did almost die” – everypony gasped – “but I was saved by the nicest, smartest, most amazing pony I have ever met!”

“Rainbow Dash?” Scootaloo asked, joining the circle.

Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes in answer.

“I’d like to know myself,” Applejack said. “The Apple family will need to thank whoever it was something fierce. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for ya when you need me.”

“Eeyup.”

“Her name is Index Code. She’s the overseer for the festival, I think.” Sweetie Belle sounded a little unsure on that last point until Applejack confirmed it for her.

“Even if she saved you, there’s no way she’s cooler than Rainbow Dash.”

“Oh, Scootaloo. We shall forever have different definitions of cool. What a cruel divide this makes in our friendship. Perhaps if we never argue over it again, we may pretend that the very fates themselves do not conspire against us.”

“Whoa, turn down the Rarity, Sweetie Belle.”

Both Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle laughed at the reaction. Applejack proved unable to resist a private chuckle, and even the ever stoic Big Macintosh’s eyes lit with mirth.

“So,” Apple Bloom began. She was curious what about this mysterious pencil pusher had gotten Sweetie Belle’s attention. “I get that she saved you and all, but what exactly makes her so amazing?”

“Well, first of all, she knows the archmage.”

Apple Bloom shared a groan with Scootaloo.

“Anyway,” Sweetie Belle continued pointedly, “she gave me a magic lesson right after she saved me. It was brilliant! Practically straight from Twilight Sparkle herself!”

“I see…” Applejack said with a distinctly nervous inflection. “And what spell exactly did she teach you?”

“It wasn’t just one spell but ninety-four thousand!” Sweetie Belle proclaimed with pride.

Out of the corner of her eye, Apple Bloom saw her big sister and big brother grow pale. Amusing, yes, but as excited as she was for her friend, something felt off. “I don’t get it. How did she teach you that many spells in just a few minutes?”

“Well,” Sweetie Belle began, “it was more a lesson about creativity than spellcasting. She did teach me a disinfectant spell, but the lecture was infinitely more important. I’m one giant leap closer to the archmage now!”

“If you say so, sugarcube,” Applejack said. “Now about this whole stampede business.”

All three Crusaders groaned in harmony.

The Golden Oak Library was small by most standards and minuscule in comparison to the Canterlot Archives, but it had a certain rustic charm about it. Somepony had gone to a lot of effort to turn a still living tree into a habitable structure. The magic behind it must have been intricate and fascinating. Someday Index would have to get her hooves on it.

She was just about to open the library door when it slammed into her face and knocked her onto the ground. Index fell heavily onto her rear with a grunt, her poor abused muzzle protesting its rough treatment. When she recovered from her daze, she cried, “Why!” to the heavens. What had she ever done to Ponyville to deserve this? Why was everypony in this insufferable village crazy?

On the library’s doorstep stood a cloaked electric blue pony. A faint rustling underneath the cloak marked its wearer as a pegasus.

“Sorry about – oh, you’re fine.” By the sound of the voice, the cloaked figure was female and approximately Index’s real age. “Whatever. Still sorry. I was never here.” With that abrupt apology, she pulled her hood further down over her face and ran off into the wide and not very concealing alleys of Ponyville.

Yep. Crazy. Index got to her hooves and set about cleaning her coat off with a little application of magic. She could have at least done a better job of concealing her identity. Rainbow manes are incredibly rare. If she were so inclined, it would be simplicity itself to track down the mare.

Once clean, Index levitated her saddlebags from where they’d fallen, pleased to find that they’d not landed in the mud, and returned them to her back. She’d taken them from her bag of holding on the walk back into town to carry books, but little had she known the dangers that had awaited her.

Index laughed to herself at her little bit of dramatic internal dialogue as she entered the library. There were less books than she’d imagined. While she knew that the upper floors served as living space for the librarian, she’d still expected a larger collection. This was, after all, the library which housed a work as obscure and esoteric as The Elements of Harmony: A Reference Guide. It made her wonder what other books were in stock. Knowing Ponyville, she had no doubt the collection would be eclectic and eccentric.

The librarian, Rhyme, stood behind the counter filling out a few forms which likely pertained to the pegasus who’d bumped into Index. She seemed normal at first blush. She was a unicorn. There was nothing unusual about that. The blue color of her mane and tail didn’t stand out either. Her coat was a deep purple, and although ponies tended more toward pastels, that wasn’t particularly odd. Her cutie mark was a sheet of paper with a quill. Again, not strange. But one detail in particular floored Twilight.

That’s my manecut! Or my…not manecut. Twilight just snipped a flat line off whenever it obscured her vision without much care for how it looked. Moon Dancer, she recalled, used to do the same. But it was the principle of the matter! Curse you, Pinkie Pie. This is your fault. If you hadn’t said anything, I’d have remained blissfully oblivious to these sorts of things for the rest of my life.

“Can I help you?”

Twilight forced herself back into character, tried her best not to show that anything was bothering her, and broke off her incredulous stare. As Index approached the desk, she pulled a manila folder from her bag and floated it over to the librarian. “I’m running an errand for the Canterlot Archives while I’m in town. They want to acquire a book from this library and asked me to see to it.”

Rifling through the documents, Rhyme hummed in thought. “Well, this all seems in order, but The Elements of Harmony: A Reference Guide? Do I even have a book by that name? One moment, please.” Rhyme set the folder down and went to search the shelves. “Let’s see… A… B… C… D… E… El…e…ments–”

Index’s eye twitched. That was not how libraries were sorted. She told herself, It’s just Ponyville. Don’t fight the madness.

“Aha! Here we are. The Elements of Harmony: A Reference Guide. Hmm… Oh! I think Pinkie checked this out a few years ago. Who knows what gets into that mare’s head.” The librarian opened the cover to glance at the log. “But nopony before her, I see.”

Rhyme walked back behind her desk. She pulled out a few forms from the drawers and quickly filled them out. Once done, she looked up and pushed them across to Index.

“If you’d just sign these at the bottom. All right, then. You take the yellow copy, and I keep the other two. Do you want me to mail the book, or will you be delivering it?”

Stashing the reference guide in her saddlebag, Index replied, “I can take care of it. Thanks.”

“No problem. Need anything else?”

Index declined the offer and left the library. Part of her wanted to explore its shelves, but the larger part of her didn’t want to know what Ponyville considered essential reading. As soon as she was outside and out of sight of the library, she pulled the book from her saddle bags and began reading. It only took a few seconds before she paused, surprised, and then started flipping through the rest of it.

Page after page was filled with trivial details Index already knew or illustrations. There was nothing hoofwritten in, no concealing spells placed upon the book, and as far as she could tell, there were no secret chemical stains to uncover and turn into readable text. Alas, her knowledge of the mystery genre had let her down again. She had no idea why this red herring was in Ponyville, but that was a mystery that would wait for another day.

Well, that was a wash.

Author's Notes:

I have no idea where the idea of psychopathic seaponies originated from. My best guess is the fanfic MLP Time Loops (which is very good and worth reading) by Saphroneth and several other authors which infrequently features them.

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Revision Notes - July 10th (2020)

Chapter Five - The Dishonest

Showers of sparkles appeared across the world.

If a unicorn cared two bits to study a field outside magic and their special talent during their education, they would discover the wonderful world of physics. If a unicorn went a bit further, they would find that the most basic tenet of the illusion school of magic was altering the wavelength of photons passing through a magical field according to some predefined rule. If a unicorn actually cared about what they were studying, they would discover the non-visible spectrum and perhaps contemplate its possible applications.

Of course, this meant that less than one percent of unicorns ever got that far. Earth ponies and pegasi typically studied nature in far greater detail than the tribe which could alter aspects of reality they found displeasing with a thought, but it mattered not, for earth ponies and pegasi were blind to the flow of magic.

Index stood far outside the home Bon Bon shared with the supposed Lyra Heartstrings, pretending to search her saddle bags for something with an deep frown on her face. Her horn did not glow, or at least not with any visible light. She had other and better ways to hide her spell casting, but the simplest illusion charm taught as early as magic kindergarten drew only a trickle of power and required almost no concentration to maintain. It was perfect for maintaining a low profile when inspecting a ward system at a distance in public.

What the hay? As Index probed deeper into the suspiciously sophisticated wards surrounding Bon Bon’s house, she only grew more confused. This ‘Lyra Heartstrings’, or whatever her real name is, is watching for…something aquatic? Why? Ponyville is one of the most landlocked municipalities in Equestria. What could she possibly be on the lookout for?

Index shook her vexation off. It was Ponyville. Maybe some lake monster had attacked the town or something. She had a more important question on her mind anyway.

Why are these wards so subtle and elaborate? I thought I was dealing with some run-of-the-mill sorceress with delusions of grandeur, but she must be at least half as skilled as I am. What is this pony doing in – oh, ponyfeathers.

Having accidentally tripped an alarm, Index had a few options. She could lay in wait and observe Lyra Heartstrings’s response. She didn’t like being on the defensive, but it would give her some insight into her target’s character. She could smash the wards outright and advance. It would be in keeping with her usual approach when she didn’t have time to more carefully unravel them. Or, since none of them appeared designed to do harm, she could go knock on the front door and see what happened.

Eh, whatever. Index hoisted her bags back into place and made for the door at a casual pace as she recast the basic enchantments necessary for high-level combat. Worst case scenario, I revert to plan B.

A few moments after Index knocked, Bon Bon opened the door. They exchanged greetings, and the latter invited her inside. Wary, she watched for ambushes and readied herself for trouble. Naturally, she kept her caution from Bon Bon, but the other mare appeared oblivious regardless.

“Minuette couldn’t join us tonight, unfortunately. Sorry about the last minute notice, but I have dinner ready if you’re interested. If you still want to hang out, I could set up the projector for a film or something.”

“That sounds great.” Taking an offered seat in the dining table, Index asked, “And Lyra Heartstrings?”

“She completely forgot to tell me that she was heading out to play a concert tonight. She didn’t say when she’d be back.”

Ah. She ran away.

“She went right out the door with her lyre in a huge rush. I hope she wasn’t late. Celestia knows she could use the work.”

“I see.” Index tossed a significant glance at the table set for three. “And how long ago was that?”

“Just a few minutes ago, actually. I hope you’re hungry.”

“I suppose so, although could you tell me where your bathroom is? I’d like to wash up first.”

“Certainly.” Bon Bon extended her hoof towards a small hallway that lead out of the kitchen and further into the house. “Just follow that hall until it turns right. Then it’s the first door on the left.”

Index thanked Sweetie Drops and headed off. The moment she turned the corner, she abandoned magical stealth and performed a wide area scan for any recent teleports.

Aha! Found you. Let’s see here. The destination is…concealed. Can’t say I wasn’t expecting that. How much power did you put into it? Hmm, maybe enough for a town wide jump, judging by the residue. If you’re even half as good as I think you are, no doubt you’ll have obfuscation on tracking magic as well. So assuming I can find you without breaking out the heavy duty stuff, where are you? Ran away… Short jump…

Index built up power for a teleportation block and held it ready for her arrival.

Train station it is, then.

Twilight dispelled her polymorph. If she was going to engage in a high-level magical duel, she certainly wouldn’t be doing so as Index Code. She briefly considered adopting another disguise to help maintain her cover, but Index already had a connection to her on the grapevine. It wouldn’t be too strange for her pseudo-assistant to summon her for one reason or another. She did polymorph into herself, however, as a standard precaution. If she were to be injured, she’d much rather it be in a form she could easily shed.

A short range teleport brought Twilight above the train station with a partial view below. A second one placed her safely onto the platform itself. A surprised gasp came from behind her, and she whirled, firing her stored teleportation block, only to come face to face with Vinyl Scratch. Neither pony moved. Then a quick but cautious check revealed that it was the real one.

“Uh, hey.” Vinyl gave a half-hearted wave in greeting.

Oh. Right. I know ponies in this town. Horseapples. Twilight awkwardly cleared her throat. “Sorry,” she said as she removed the block from Vinyl, not that it really mattered for somepony who couldn’t teleport. “I’m looking for a pony last seen impersonating Lyra Heartstrings. Any help?”

“Yeah, she–”

Twilight followed Vinyl’s gaze to catch the tail end of a teleport not too far away. It was hastily executed and easy to track. Without another word, she vanished, chasing after her target. When she didn’t find Lyra Heartstrings after one jump, she paused a moment to prepare another block and then continued the chase. With the delay, it took her a few minutes to catch up.

A series of flower pots fell from the sky. They deflected harmlessly off Twilight’s enchanted body, but the nonmagical attack took her completely by surprise. Guard raised, she spun toward the direction they’d come from only for a surge of magic to break a tree branch on her from behind. It didn’t hurt, but it did stagger her.

Casting blindly, Twilight fired off her stored teleport block in the direction the magic had come from. She caught a hint of aquamarine from the corner of her eye, the exact shade of Lyra Heartstrings’s coat, before it blinked out of existence leaving only a few golden bubbles behind floating in the air.

Twilight made careful note of her target’s teleport signature in the unlikely event she needed it. Then with the end point of the teleport emerging right behind her, she bucked hard enough to tear flesh and shatter bones with a little extra magic to pierce barriers. The reward for her effort was a dull splash the sounded more like a gulp as her hind hooves sunk slowly into a viscous liquid. The liquid, whatever it was, burned and started to crush her legs.

Twilight, naturally, reflexively teleported out of the liquid’s grasp and reoriented herself during the trip to face her assailant. Not too far away sat a strange blob of watery tendrils so clear and with such a low index of refraction as to be nearly invisible. Lyra Heartstrings floated at its core, horn glowing a bright gold. She moved her legs with purpose, presumably exerting some kind of control over the conjuration.

Well, that’s different.

There was no time to dissect and disassemble the new magics in front of her. The tendrils lashed out at Twilight from all directions, some with large swooping arcs presumably meant to bludgeon or grasp her while others thrust like spears.

Twilight blinked out of the way, reappearing nearby unharmed and away from any immediate followup attacks. Or at least that had been the plan. Lyra Heartstrings had teleported in the interim to who knew where. With her target out of sight, she relocated herself to a rooftop for a better view on reflex rather than idling in place and waiting for an attack to come or for her opponent to slip away.

But this proved a mistake. Lyra Heartstrings had expected that reaction. Almost immediately, a thick liquid spike pierced Twilight’s enchantments and ran all the way through her leg.

Twilight snapped, her patience utterly spent over the past couple days. Her vision went red. Her coat faded to white. Her mane and tail ignited.

Hissing in pain, Twilight sent a brute force counterspell at the offending tendril in her leg. The affected part vanished into nothing while the remainder retreated and reformed. She did the same to everything else that came her way as she fully enchanted herself for battle. It was a terrible waste of magic, but it never failed to strike terror in her enemies.

Twilight took a step forward. “Surrender. Now.”

This failed to have the desired effect. Lyra Heartstrings, eyes wide, teleported away.

With a hungry grin, Twilight followed after. The moment she reappeared, she launched toward her enemy at a blistering speed. Her scrying spells linked into a heuristic filter filled her head with all relevant information she needed to effectively have a volumetric awareness of her surroundings. She weaved through Lyra Heartstrings’s strange fighting style, dodging attacks coming at her from every direction and more frequently the closer she drew. Once, she blinked out of an attempt to fully engulf her in the liquid and then pressed forward without delay.

Soon enough, Lyra Heartstrings built up her magic and formed it into another teleport. She clearly didn’t like to fight at close range. Twilight fired off a block before she could finish. Unfortunately, it only stopped a tiny portion of the liquid from leaving.

Twilight clicked her tongue. Roughly speaking, most magics affected what their caster identified as a contiguous subject, but it seemed Lyra Heartstrings had managed to create an amorphous spell construct that operated coherently in distinct, independent blobs. If she weren’t so infuriated, she’d call it genius. Punching through it to get to her target would require actual effort.

After successfully making the approach to melee range again, Twilight conjured a spear of ice and thrust it into the blob. Lyra Heartstrings fought her for every inch, forcing her to put distance between them but not breaking her focus on her telekinetic grip.

They then entered into a direct contest of wills and magic, one attempting to dispel or at least melt the spear while the other fought to keep it in existence. As might have been expected from her ability to teleport her blob around, Lyra Heartstrings proved perfectly capable of channeling her magic through her construct without having to open a hole internally to let her magic pass through it.

Even so, Twilight got what she wanted when the spear finally connected with Lyra Heartstrings’s body. It didn’t have even nearly enough energy to pierce unenchanted skin, so of course it did nothing. But then it didn’t need to.

Twilight, protections against heat already in place, took the risk of teleporting in close to her spear. When she wasn’t immediately punished for the momentary delay it took her to regain her bearings, she enacted her plan. Sublimating her spear created a burst of steam and, with it, a hole in the blob which only widened with the sudden pressure.

Lyra Heartstrings realized what had happened a moment too late. Twilight took the shot. She first fired off a quick and dirty piercing spell to poke a temporary hole in any enchantments Lyra Heartstrings had active on her own person. Twilight then followed that up with a lightning spell to render her unconscious. It may have been a bit overkill, but it certainly felt satisfying.

It was also safer to put Lyra Heartstrings down harder, of course. Each subsequent opening would be more difficult to make as she learned and adapted. But it was mostly for the satisfaction.

Twilight breathed deep, wary of a trap but exultant in her victory, as her opponent fell to the ground. The blob had vanished without an active source of magic to sustain it. Then as time was a potential factor, she burned through a ton of magic to brute force dispel any enchantments lingering on Lyra Heartstrings, including the polymorph spell which had originally drawn her attention.

Well, that…explains a lot, actually.

After a quick search for any magical artifacts that would have survived the counterspell she’d used, Twilight reapplied the polymorph for now and then affixed a magic suppressor from her bag of holding onto Lyra Heartstrings’s horn, locking it into place with a spell. To avoid any potential awkward situations, she placed a simple illusion upon it to render it invisible to the naked eye. Then on second thought, she added two more suppressors to be careful. She could overload four herself – five if she really pushed herself and accepted the resulting thaumic burns – and felt three in total was the correct number in this case. With that, the ‘unicorn’ would be helpless and have no way of knowing that the polymorph magic active on her was no longer her own. She would probably assume otherwise, but Twilight first wanted to see how she behaved without knowing her secret was blown.

As the adrenaline coursing through her wore off, Twilight returned to her normal self. It wasn’t something the family spoke of much, but they had some kirin blood in them on their mother’s side. They fortunately didn’t suffer from the full nirik transformation, but, well, they did try to watch their tempers. The moderate fire immunity did help with raising Spike, though, so it wasn’t all bad.

Twilight shifted her weight and immediately regretted it. Right, gaping hole in leg. She’d been doing her best to stay off it during the fight with significant success, one of the many advantages to being a quadruped no matter what Spike claimed about opposable claws. She quickly undid her own polymorph, a relieved sigh escaping her as the wound melted away along with the magic.

With all that done, Twilight took a moment to relax. It’d been an intense few minutes. In all honesty, this had probably been the toughest fight she’d ever had outside of Celestia, Chrysalis, and maybe Shining. She’d not been prepared for it, but now that it was over, she felt foolish for expecting anything less. This was Ponyville, after all.

I am so tempted to order this place razed to the ground after the solstice. I’ve been here for two days. I dread what I’ll have gone through in two weeks, let alone two whole moons. A resigned sigh escaped Twilight. Oh well. That’s Future Me’s problem. I should get back to work. Bon Bon will be expecting me.

Twilight hit Lyra Heartstrings with a spell to bring her around. A pained groan escaped her, and she awoke in a daze almost immediately after. Her first instinct to such, it seemed, was to start casting magic. Admirable and not unexpected, but also not wholly appropriate in this case.

“Ow, my horn,” Lyra Heartstrings moaned. As she sat upright, she asked, “What happened?” Looking around, she completely failed to recognize the scenery. The fight had quickly drifted outside of town into the countryside. “Where in the deep depths am I?” Another – apparently stronger – attempt at magic had similar effects to the last. A string of muttered curses followed.

“That’s what you get for trying to use magic with three suppressors on your horn.”

Lyra Heartstrings jumped to her hooves and spun on Twilight. “You! I remember no – ow! Ow, ow, ow!”

“Let me repeat myself. Three. Suppressors. You won’t be casting anything while they’re on. I was going to be nice about this. I stumbled upon you entirely by accident, after all, but then you had the gall to attack me. Me. Do you know who I am?”

The nervous gulp was answer enough, really, but Lyra Heartstrings said, “Archmage Twilight Sparkle.”

“Quite. Since your judgment is impaired enough to think that was in any way a good idea, we’re going to have to do this the hard way.”

But before Twilight even had to do anything, Lyra Heartstrings broke. “Wait! Wait, please, I’ll cooperate. Just… Please, I have a life here. I don’t want to go home. Don’t send me back there.” She threw herself at Twilight’s hooves. “I beg of you, Your Excellency.”

Twilight watched the breakdown with interest. She hadn’t really known what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t that. “Forgive me if I seem skeptical.”

“What can I–” Lyra Heartstrings took a moment to collect herself and thereby regained a remarkable level of composure. She then adopted what Twilight vaguely recognized as her people’s courtly mannerisms. “What must I do to assure you of my sincerity, Your Excellency?”

It was tempting to just boot the mare out of the country and be done with her. Twilight really didn’t need this complication in her life right now, especially if it entangled her with another nation’s royal court. Yet at the same time, it would free up a lot of time for her in the future if she had an attack dog on a leash. Lyra Heartstrings was no hedge mage or novice sorceress, and Bon Bon had mentioned her need for work. Perhaps they could come to an arrangement similar in nature to the deal Twilight had made with Espionage.

“First, I have little enough patience for ‘civility’ at the best of times. Knock it off.”

There was only a brief moment of hesitation before Lyra Heartstrings relaxed into a more natural stance.

“Second, tell me who you really are.”

“My full name is Lyra Heartstrings. Most ponies just call me Lyra. Less of a mouthful in Ponish.”

Twilight didn’t know the reverse translation, the language being a separate offshoot of Old Ponish, but she could certainly agree with the sentiment. Lyra it was, then.

“I was Queen Aqua’s master of waters.”

Eyes narrowing, Twilight asked, “Culturally speaking, wouldn’t that make you me?”

“Not…exactly,” Lyra replied very unconvincingly.

Twilight pushed an angry burst of air through her nose. “And you want to stay here?” She really didn’t need this right now.

“I’ve been here for six years without issue. I even faked my death when I left.”

Well, that was something. If she kept Lyra out of the public eye, perhaps they could make something work and avoid a diplomatic disaster. “Go home,” Twilight commanded. When Lyra’s eyes widened in horror, she added, “Your home in Ponyville. Index Code will be responsible for you until I come to a decision. If I understand the situation correctly, you’ll find her with Bon Bon, I think it was, upon your return.”

The long walk home was made longer by having to detour to retrieve her lyre from where she’d dropped it in her flight from the archmage. When Lyra finally passed through the front door with it delicately balanced on her back, she let out an exhausted sigh. It was then down to habit after that to deposit it on its stand in the drawing room.

Her labor complete, Lyra stretched her stiff, strained shoulders. As she did, her nose caught the scent of something delicious. She followed it into the kitchen and from there to the dining table where she found Bon Bon and, unless she was very much mistaken, Index Code. The three of them were supposed to have been playing cards tonight with Minuette, but she doubted that would happen now.

“Lyra?” Bon Bon said, surprised. “I thought I heard somepony come in. Did you forget something?”

“Yeah, the date.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. You can be such a scatterbrain sometimes.”

Lyra laughed nervously. “That’s totally what happened.” This rather suspect response, of course, caused Bon Bon to arch her eyebrows at her, but she ignored her marefriend’s silent question. That would probably cost her, but hey, what could she do? “So you’re the new pony in town? Index Code, right?”

“Just Index is fine. Bon Bon here was telling me all sorts of stories about you.”

“Oh. Great.” Lyra hoped they stemmed from simple friendly conversation rather than the beginnings of an investigation into her background. “Bon Bon, I’m not too late for dinner, am I?”

It wasn’t long at all before Lyra found herself with a bowl of Bon Bon’s delicious super spicy curry in front of her. She gave her thanks with a peck on the cheek and then slid into her seat and summoned up her magic–

“Ow!”

“You okay?” Bon Bon asked.

Stupid suppressors. “I’m fine.”

Without access to her magic, Lyra knew she would have to use her hooves to eat. That didn’t bode well. She’d never really gotten any good at using those things. Index carried on with her meal across the table as though nothing had happened, but Bon Bon still wore a worried look on her face. That gave Lyra an idea.

“Well, actually, I did hit my horn earlier. It really hurts. Would you feed me?” Lyra did her best to play up her supposed injury, even managing to bring a tear to her eye.

Bon Bon rolled her eyes and shoved a small loaf of bread into Lyra’s mouth. “Use that as a spoon, you big baby.”

Not as fun, but I guess that works. Lyra could at least hold the bread well enough to use it as an edible tool. She had to sit up a little straighter than she liked to make it work, but at least she wouldn’t starve.

“Don’t mind Lyra,” Bon Bon said to Index. The mare in question looked askance at Lyra, although she hid it well once called out on it. “I tell her not to sit like that all the time, but she never listens.”

Lyra glanced down at her posture. She sat on her rear with her hind legs hanging freely over the front of the chair and her back up against her seat. It was comfortable and familiar for her, and it wasn’t as though she’d never seen other ponies sit in a similar manner.

“It is hard on a unicorn’s skeletal structure,” Index said. “We’re not really built for it. But there are some spells which would eliminate any damage as a side effect.”

Oh, horrors. She already knows, doesn’t she? Lyra silently begged Index not to say a word to Bon Bon and changed the subject. “So what were you two planning to do tonight without me?”

“Just make some popcorn and watch some old movies,” Bon Bon replied.

Index nodded in agreement. “I’m still surprised at how many you have. Film reels aren’t cheap. Is your candy shop really so lucrative, or should I be asking the big boss for a raise?”

“Well, the Cakes and I are the only dedicated dessert suppliers in town. We service different needs, too, so you know how that goes.”

“Makes sense,” Index mused between spoonfuls of curry. She stopped just before taking another bite, her brow furrowing, and asked, “What percentage of your revenue is from Pinkie Pie?”

Bon Bon laughed at the question.

Applewood, the city where the stars shone night and day. The city where celebrities were born and where they died. The city where the magic of film made its home. The city where dreams came to life.

“I love you Silver Bell!”

“You’re the greatest!”

“Show me one of your thousand faces!”

“Say the line from Planet of the Humans!”

“Marry me!”

The actress in question walked down the red carpet to the Academy Awards with her costar for her latest film, the ruggedly handsome Star Shadow. She was the biggest thing to hit film since its invention. Her title, the Lady of a Thousand Faces, came from her expert incorporation of magic into her flawless acting, and it had earned her an eternal place in history.

“I’m starting to wonder if I should have agreed to be your date,” Shadow teased. “Nopony ever gets any attention around you.”

Leaning close and eliciting several squeals from the audience – some jealous, some not – Silver Bell laid the charm on extra thick. She whispered in Shadow’s ear as though they were lovers, “Oh, lighten up. They love you too, but you were the villain. Maybe you should fret over the lack of boos.” The crowd ate it up.

Shadow played along, laughing lightly. “Maybe, but I think I’d rather avoid that.”

The inside of Darfur Theater was no quieter than outside. There were less ponies now, it was true, but the enclosed space only amplified their voices. As the two stopped at the coat check for Silver Bell to leave her spring jacket, the call of a traitor came. She would normally either ignore it outright or give it only a fraction of her attention when so preoccupied, but with circumstances being what they were, she had little choice but to disappear for a few moments.

“If you would excuse me for a moment.”

“Where are you going?” Shadow asked. “It won’t be long before the ceremony begins.”

“I know. I’ll rejoin you at our seats before long. I just have to powder my nose.” It was a wildly unbelievable excuse from a mare who made her career off of her ability to change her appearance at will from her coloring to her voice, but a true gentlecolt knew not to pry.

It took little time to acquire some wine and then find a quiet place away from the hustle and bustle where a mare could stare off at the nearly full moon hanging in the night sky with a lot on her mind. Nopony would bother her if she projected the right atmosphere.

So prepared, Chrysalis poked at the unpleasant nuisance in the hive mind who’d sold out their entire species just to get laid. “What do you want, traitor?”

Thorax’s resigned sigh echoed all across the hive, revealing his utter lack of practice. He’d gone fully native, and it showed. “I have Princess Celestia with me, Your Majesty, as you requested.”

Chrysalis made a small harrumph. She could tolerate the coming conversation if the traitor merely intended to play the role of a courier. She did consider, for a moment, routing the traitor’s words through another member of her hive so she wouldn’t have to suffer the sound of his voice but thought better of it in the end. It was her duty to her hive to endure such things, not to pass the ordeal off to one of her changelings.

“Very well. Repeat my words, betrayer.”

As Thorax leaked his well deserved frustration into the hive mind, Chrysalis siphoned off some of the positive emotions directed at her in the theater. She isolated him from the rest of her changelings to keep the peace while she infused her drink with the love she’d gathered. With any luck, it’d help her remain civil around the princess despite the intermediary between them.

“Good evening, Princess.”

“‘Good evening, Queen Chrysalis,’” came the echo of Princess Celestia’s words through Thorax in the hive mind. “‘I apologize for interrupting your awards ceremony.’”

Chrysalis arched one of her currently existing eyebrows. “A little presumptive, don’t you think?”

“‘Oh, please. When have you walked home without one?’”

“When have I ever walked home?”

Thorax informed Chrysalis that Princess Celestia had laughed at the joke.

“Enough pleasantries,” Chrysalis said. They both had more important affairs to tend to than bantering with each other. “We’re here to speak of your sister’s imminent return. Your archmage informed me that the situation is far more dire than I expected.”

There was a long short pause before Princess Celestia replied. With Thorax between them, it was hard to know what meaning to take away from it, if any. “‘I have no doubt that, should it come to it, my sister would, as my archmage put it–”

A sense of incredulity came from Thorax before he got his act together. “Er, sorry, Your Majesty. I, uh, well, I’ll just keep going. ‘My sister would, as my archmage put it, kick my flank to the curb.’”

Chrysalis snorted in a mix of surprise and amusement mid drink, spraying her muzzle with little droplets of wine. It was such a shame Archmage Twilight had such a tiny lifespan. She would certainly miss the mare’s irreverence when she was gone.

“‘To be perfectly frank, the fate of the world is in Archmage Twilight’s hooves. While I prepare for the worst, she assures me she has this crisis, whatever the outcome, well in hoof.’”

Well, that was certainly an interesting bit of information. The archmage had never been prone to optimism or exaggeration in Chrysalis’s experience. “‘How, then, does she intend to manage the lunatic on the throne? Surely she doesn’t expect me to fight her.” While so many years spent in Equestria gorging herself on love and admiration meant exclusively for her had given her the strength to fight an alicorn on even terms, that was hardly unusual. Even Archmage Twilight could do that. There was a maximum amount of magic one could output without disrupting one’s own spells. The question then became how long could she last? The answer, she feared, was maybe a minute or two at best.

“Your Majesty, uh, forgive me, but…‘lunatic’? Are you sure that’s the word you want to use?”

Thorax had a point. There were good reasons that word had entered Equestria’s lexicon but none which would win any points with Princess Celestia. “Madmare, then, filth.”

After a few moments, the conversation finally restarted. “‘Although I must confess to not knowing, I suspect such is either a prerequisite to her plans or a precaution.’”

Now that certainly sounded like the paranoid archmage Chrysalis knew. She’d have to give the matter some thought later on her own time, but that was assurance enough for her for now. “Very well. Archmage Twilight has been nothing but fair and forthright in our dealings, so I’ll place my trust in her as well.”

An usually long silence for Princess Celestia followed. When prodded for information, Thorax revealed that she appeared caught up in her thoughts with a slight frown marring her usually serene expression. Chrysalis instructed him to bring her back into the here and now.

“‘Shall we set aside our respective titles for a moment?’”

Intrigued at the sudden request, Chrysalis replied, “I see no reason to refuse.” It wasn’t everyday someling got a peek behind the mask.

“‘Thank you. Chrysalis, I owe you an apology for my hypocrisy.’”

Oh, now this is interesting. Preparing for the worst, indeed. It seemed the immortal goddess had a guilty conscious she wanted cleared before her sister locked her away for an indefinite length of time. She probably had a last request as well. Playing along, Chrysalis asked, “How so?”

“‘When Twilight first informed me there were changelings in Equestria, I fully intended to expel your entire hive despite her having already opened negotiations with you. I all but outright commanded her not to trust a child of Discord.’”

“Please,” Chrysalis interrupted with a healthy sneer. “Even my grandmother despised her maker. Those were dark times with little love to go around.”

“‘It was never any loyalty to him which worried me. There are myriad reasons why Equestria is home to so few nonponies. We have a long and troubled history with the griffons, for example.’”

“Ah.” Chrysalis understood where the hypocrisy came from now. All of the chimeric creatures Discord had created in his endless pursuit of entertainment did tend to cause problems. “Yet you maintain a friendship with Queen Novo of the hippogriffs.”

“‘The hippogriffs have been loyal allies for centuries. It both warms my heart and gives an old mare some peace of mind to know Twilight has your support in her coming trials.’”

Silence fell on both ends as that statement propagated through Chrysalis’s mind. The traitor, fool that he was, lacked the necessary skill to read the princess’s emotions with any degree of surety. As such, it proved difficult to gauge Princess Celestia’s true intent. It was so very tempting to portal to Canterlot to continue this discussion face to face.

Chrysalis downed the last of her wine. The hidden vow of a distant retribution if she betrayed the princess’s precious archmage came through clear enough, yet so too did the promise of favorable relations in the future in the other eventuality. But, she supposed, so long as Princess Celestia didn’t force her to pick an alicorn to back to the bitter end, it hardly mattered. She had no reason to stab Archmage Twilight in the back.

“You know, you never actually apologized.”

Thorax utterly failed to reproduce Princess Celestia’s almost musical laughter. “‘I offer my humble apologies for the slight upon your character. If you wish, please join us for our next movie night. Family and family friends only.’”

“I’ll consider it.” Chrysalis then put her metaphorical crown back upon her head. “So what precisely are you asking of my hive until the solstice?”

“‘Only that which you already do. Keep a weather eye out for anything suspicious and coordinate with the EIS.’”

The request was more than fair per the agreement Chrysalis had reached with Equestria. She asked, “Anything in particular you want us to watch for?”

After a few moments, Princess Celestia finally made her reply. “‘Some things have been found which should have remained lost. I had intended to send my archmage after them, but with her occupied and her substitute not up to the task, perhaps you could fill in for her.’”

The chance to have a firsthoof look at artifacts Princess Celestia wanted kept hidden? Chrysalis could hardly say no to that opportunity. “Send me the details. I’ll do what I can. Any priorities my hive can start on immediately?”

“‘Yes. Two. The Night Guardian Staff vanished years ago from where my sister left it.’”

Chrysalis remembered her mother’s stories about that particular magical artifact with a hint of dread. It didn’t grant power. It didn’t grant knowledge. The naive sorcerer would toss it aside as junk. But the most dangerous wielders of magic, the sort who would go to the effort to unearth a lost relic belonging to a vengeful goddess? They knew the value and rarity of a true spellcasting assistant. She understood why Princess Celestia wanted that artifact back in her possession.

“‘Somepony must have found something of hers to know of it, to find it, and to retrieve it. All of my leads went cold, but there may be a paper trail left somewhere or new rumors floating on the wind.

“‘My other priority is to find Sunset Shimmer. She…needs to be found.’”

There Chrysalis paused, taking a moment to reflect and consider her response. She knew where Sunset Shimmer was. Archmage Twilight knew where Sunset Shimmer was. For whatever reason, the archmage had an interest in covering for the mare. She’d been doing it for years with the hive’s support.

Well, if the princess wants my loyalty to extend to her archmage first, then on her head be it. Chrysalis promised to look into both the Night Guardian Staff and Sunset Shimmer while making a mental note to summon Archmage Twilight for a private conversation as soon as reasonably possible.

After dinner, Lyra, Bon Bon, and Index had spent the rest of the night watching movies and chatting. To be fully accurate, Bon Bon had done most of the talking with Index occasionally answering a question or commenting on one of her stories or a particularly interesting scene. Lyra had mostly kept to herself the whole while, waiting for the inevitable.

And then, when Bon Bon had asked for movie requests, Index suggested one that hit far too close to home. Lyra groaned, but Bon Bon loved everything Disneigh, and when Index revealed that she’d never actually seen the film in question, that sealed the deal.

Of course, they were only two heartsongs in when Bon Bon coaxed Lyra into singing along with her. She was such a dork, but she was her dork. Lyra would have no other. When they got to the final short little number, they entwined their hooves, stared deep into the other’s eyes, and sang together.

“Now we can walk. Now we can run. Now we can stay all day in the sun. Just you and me, and I can be–”

Bon Bon placed a hoof on Lyra’s cheek. She leaned into the touch.

“–part of your world.”

There were times when Lyra thought Bon Bon knew – knew and didn’t care. It was such a beautiful dream.

As the credits rolled, Index cut her magic off from the projector and then went to rewind the film. Lyra usually powered it herself when on hoof instead of wasting the accumulated ambient magic stored in its reservoir, but given her current difficulties in that regard, the offer had been made and accepted.

After a brief kiss, Bon Bon broke away and turned to their guest. “So what did you think?”

There was a bit of a clatter over her contemplative hum as Index replaced the film reel back in its protective tin and then returned it to its place on Bon Bon’s movie shelves. “It was interesting,” she finally concluded. “It’s been on my watch list for some time. I try to keep up to date on all of Silver Bell’s work.”

“Oh, a fan, eh?” Bon Bon asked.

Index shrugged and said, “Of sorts,” without any further explanation. “Anyway, the heartsongs were well done, and the anatomy was on point. Silver Bell’s influence, no doubt. But the writers have clearly never met a seapony. Or only met hippogriffs moonlighting as seaponies. Regardless, a more accurate setting would have been an insane mermare – sane by our standards – trying to escape to the surface through marriage or for love. Pick your poison. Still, one of the better films I’ve seen, I suppose. I did enjoy it.”

“Ooh, high praise from the critic,” Bon Bon teased. Then, clearly curious, she asked, “You’ve met seaponies?”

“I’ve had the displeasure. Their idea of a good time, as it happens, is to find some mountain sized abyssal horror to fight to the death.”

Lyra couldn’t deny that.

“While singing merrily, I might add.”

Or that, unfortunately.

“I’ve sat through a traumatized mare’s recollection of the psychopaths toying with her life. Her ship sank in a storm, and they ‘helped’ her get to shore.”

Lyra shifted uncomfortably. She distinctly recalled reading that report about a good deed done in the name of friendship.

“Why do you ask?”

“Er, just curious,” Bon Bon replied. “I’ve heard stories but didn’t know how embellished they were.”

Index shrugged and, as her eyes swept over Bon Bon’s movie collection, said, “For what it’s worth, they’re mostly harmless. We’re too boring to be worth bothering.” Her eyes lit up as she snagged a film with her magic. “I didn’t know there was a Daring Do movie!”

“Eh, the book was better,” Bon Bon said dismissively as she rose to her hooves. “I think I’m going to turn in for the night.”

As much as she didn’t want to, Lyra said, “I’m up for another.”

Lyra exchanged her good nights with Bon Bon, and before long, she was alone with her parole officer. To her mild surprise, Index actually set the Daring Do movie to playing and settled in to watch. She occasionally levitated popcorn into her mouth without a word or comment. Without Bon Bon around to pull them both into conversation, the silence festered until it finally overwhelmed Lyra.

“The Little Seapony? Really?”

Without a hint of apology, Index replied, “I was wondering how long it would take you to crack.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“I’m well aware of my abrasiveness.” There was absolutely no shame in those words. “Now I honestly haven’t been able to decide. Have you told her?”

“Of course not,” Lyra muttered. She wanted no part of her old life. “Thanks for not outing me, I guess.”

Index grunted an acknowledgment. “So is she the reason you’re here?”

In the most literal sense, the answer to that question was a big yes. She would still be living in the lower districts of Canterlot as far from the oceans as possible if not for Bon Bon. But to the spirit of the question, Lyra replied, “No. I got sent up onto dry land for a few chores, and I liked it here. I liked being a unicorn. I left Aquestria to get away from the craziness.”

“The flesh shapes the mind, I suppose.”

“I was tired of it all long before then,” Lyra insisted. She’d only needed a place to escape to in order to find the will to act on the desire.

A skeptical hum met the question, but Index didn’t contest Lyra’s claim. “I will, of course, be reporting everything you tell me.”

Lyra had expected as much. She understood both the position she was in and the position she’d put Equestria in now that she’d been discovered. The archmage, she knew, had every right and indeed the responsibility to toss her back into the ocean and let her queen sort her out. She was lucky to still be here on a tentative basis.

Sighing, Lyra reached out for some popcorn with her magic. It didn’t work, but she was getting used to the sharp sting in her horn reminding her not to try after every time she got distracted and forgot. She instead awkwardly put her hooves to the task of feeding her sans any of the dexterity Bon Bon displayed. That was dark earth pony magic infinitely beyond her clumsy attempts to replicate it.

An idea occurred. “Hey. Can you take these off.” Lyra gestured to the still invisible suppressors on her horn.

“You’re a flight risk, so no.”

Lyra pursed her lips. That was fair. She could be anypony anywhere in Equestria in the time it took most ponies to put on a dress. “What if I Pinkie Promised to stay in Ponyville?”

Index rolled her eyes.

“But nopony can break a Pinkie Promise.”

“Don’t be absur–” Slowly, Index turned her head to Lyra and asked for clarification.

Lyra was happy to elucidate. She demonstrated the motions and recited the chant that accompanied the full formal process, after which she explained the consequences to breaking a Pinkie Promise.

“Let me get this straight,” Index said with forced calm, eye twitching. “Pinkie Pie is aware of all promises made in her name?”

That wasn’t exactly how Lyra had phrased it, but it wasn’t incorrect.

“Fine.” It certainly didn’t sound fine. “It has a set phrase to invoke. I understand how I would go about implementing a spell to that effect.”

Lyra, who had no idea where she would even begin with that sort of magic, eyed Index with some suspicion. Exactly how much magical knowledge was the mare hiding under the guise of a simple bureaucrat? Who works directly for the archmage. Hmm…

“But she can somehow parse all of the information necessary to know when a promise is broken and not just find but track the oathbreaker?”

“It’s Pinkie.” What more needed to be said?

Index point-blank rejected that explanation. “No. No, I must be thinking about this backwards. When the vow is invoked, it must place some sort of monitoring spell on the subject. If you distribute the computational load, those little spells could report back to Pinkie Pie when triggered. But how would they know when to do so? Perhaps a geas? Dark magic doesn’t really seem up her alley, even assuming she’s not secretly a unicorn and got somepony else to cast everything for her, but it’s an avenue of approach. That would cause the magic requirement to balloon, however. Eh, whatever. I’ll just assume infinite power and consider feasibility later.”

The muttered musings of a sorceress with an interesting problem tempted Lyra to get involved for old times’ sake, but that wasn’t her life anymore. Nor was it why she’d brought this up at all. “So? Will you remove the suppressors if I make a Pinkie Promise?”

“I’ll look into it. If it’s a real phenomenon and it’s not some spell effect you can easily remove, I’ll consider it. For now, you’ll just have to suffer without magic.”

Fantastic. A disgruntled Lyra went back to struggling to eat popcorn.

Author's Notes:

Behold! A shameless promotion for my Patreon.

---

Revision Notes - July 10th (2020)

Chapter Six - Distractions

“Let’s go. It’s time you fulfilled your end of our deal.”

Twilight galloped. She galloped with everything she had in her. She had no idea where she was galloping to, but it was all she could do. It tracked every teleport. Illusions proved useless. Barriers, meaningless. Offense, insignificant. Flight was the only option.

“I see all!”

That otherworldly voice pierced the forest Twilight had escaped into, proclaiming its superiority. The terrifying presence of its owner crept forward like a fog. It was playing with her, she knew, but what choice did she have but to keep on the move? So long as she kept its interest on this game of cat and mouse, she could survive.

“I know all!”

Twilight stumbled on a rotten log but recovered her stride with a well placed telekinetic push. Up ahead, she saw a clearing. Maybe that could save her if turned out to be the edge of the forest. Maybe she could outrun her pursuer on an open plain.

“I am all!”

The clearing did become wide, level ground as the trees thinned out with only a few scattered hills. The tall grass easily half her height at its shortest would get in the way, so Twilight incinerated a path through it in advance of her flight. She tried to weave her way between hills and met with significant success, but alas, the fastest way past one she quickly calculated to be over it. She lost time and ground there, yet after it there would be nothing but straight sailing.

As Twilight crested the hill, a dark blue figure crashed into her at an acute angle, no doubt fleeing the very same terror as she. They knocked each other to the ground with a grunt first from the collision and then another from the impact with the earth. The alicorn, as it happened, looked to be about a hoof or two taller than her and had a gorgeous mane of stars.

Twilight knew this alicorn’s identity at once. “Nightmare Mo–” Yet hadn’t Celestia described her sister as such and not the nightmare? “Luna?”

“You have the worst dreams, Twilight Sparkle.”

As much as she felt she should take offense, Twilight had to admit she’d not been having the best of luck getting restful sleep lately. Not that it really mattered right now with the pink one hot on her hooves. She wouldn’t be getting any sleep anytime soon.

A haunting giggle filled the air at a ghostly whisper. Both Twilight’s and Luna’s heads snapped back toward the forest to see a creeping mist approaching them. A small pink speck pronked forward from its depths, deceptive in its apparent playfulness.

In unspoken agreement, the pair fled together in the opposite direction.

Twilight awoke, fortunately, just before the dream Pinkie Pie captured herself and the dream Luna. She didn’t want to know what fate her subconscious had intended to throw at her. Nor did she wish to contemplate what it meant that she’d only been having nightmares lately. She usually didn’t sleep long enough to properly dream so she had no idea when this problem had truly started.

Really, it was Pinkie Pie’s fault. She knew who Twilight was now, thus eliminating the need to continue the masquerade around her. However, her persistent insistence on ‘sleeping properly’ because, and these were her own words, ‘her eyelashes were wiggling’ had worn Twilight down until she’d caved and agreed.

With a wide yawn, Twilight took a groggy glance at the clock in Pinkie Pie’s room. It looked like she had less than an hour before the Cakes would break for lunch. She rolled out of bed away from the balcony, arresting her momentum just before she hit the ground to set herself down gently. Lying there, she performed her daily magical ablutions – skipping the luxury of a shower or bath – to half of herself and then rolled over for the other half. She did consider doing it all in one go, but that sometimes interacted poorly with carpeting and ultimately require more work.

“Pinkie Pie,” Twilight moaned, “this was a bad idea.” When no answer came, she lazily lifted her head and looked around. “Pinkie? Where – oh, right. You have a job.”

Twilight clambered to her hooves, donned her saddle bags, got into character, and then finally moved to head downstairs. As she walked past Pinkie Pie’s mirror, she noticed her unkempt mane and took a moment to tie it into a braid before descending.

Walking up to the front counter instead of into the kitchens, Index addressed her host. “Cup Cake, what do you have in the way of sugar comas disguised as breakfast?”

“Oh, dearie, you look just terrible. Is there anything wrong with your bed? I know Pinkie likes to jump on it once and a while.”

“No, the bed is just fine” for something other than a cloud. Maybe she should drag one into Pinkie Pie’s room for her own use. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Well, I know just the thing for you. Carrot! Can you whip up a batch of zap apple muffins?”

Carrot Cake’s voice came back from the kitchens. “Sure as sugar is our business! I’ll have them ready in twenty minutes!”

Index’s ears betrayed her interest and perked up. “I didn’t know you could use zap apples to make anything but jam.”

“Oh, you’ll be in for a big surprise, then,” Cup Cake said with a hint of matronly mischief in her voice. “Why don’t you go ahead and take a seat. Would you like some coffee, tea, or something else?”

“I’d take some orange juice if you have it. Failing that, lemonade or water.”

“Sure thing. I’ll bring it out just as soon as I finish with the ponies behind you.”

Nodding, Index left the line and took a window seat overlooking the town market. It would seem that everypony’s daily business had started long ago. The square overflowed with ponies going to and fro with bags draped over their backs, hanging from their wings, or floating along nearby. As Sweetie Belle had put it, however, this was very much an earth pony town. At a very rough guess from what she could see right now and some lazy math, she estimated the adult pegasi population at around thirty with slightly more unicorns and a total population somewhere around a thousand.

“One cup of orange juice, as request,” Cup Cake said as she deposited the glass in question on Index’s table. “Need anything else?”

“Hmm, some sugar? I’m feeling really sluggish right now.”

“I already put a few cubes in. Why don’t you give it a try first.”

Index took a sip of her drink. “Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks for the thought.”

“You’re welcome,” Cup Cake said as she left to return to her post.

As she nursed her juice, Index returned to staring out the window as she planned her day. She had so much to do, so little time to do it, and she kept accruing more even though her time in Ponyville was supposed to have been the worst vacation ever. Instead, it just felt like business as usual.

What do I need to do today? There’s that Fluttershy mare that I completely forgot about yesterday after the stampede. Pinkie Pie said she lives on the outskirts of town near the Everfree, so I think I’ll save her for later. Hopefully that will go well. I just need to be understanding and patient.

Index frowned. Between Lyra and Pinkie Pie last night, she didn’t know how much patience she had left in her. It might be best to delay meeting Fluttershy if she found something else to do first.

What else? I need to get updates on the festival from Amethyst Star at some point. I can do that while wandering through town and asking ponies about Pinkie Pie. Maybe I can get some insight into her from the local gossip. Need to remember to research Pinkie Promises as well. I doubt anypony will find it odd if I ask around about either. Everypony at least seems to understand that she’s an anomaly.

On the subject of Pinkie Promises, I need to decide what to do about Lyra Heartstrings. Index buried her face in her hooves and let out a small, frustrated groan. A sea pony of all things. And a former archmage equivalent at that. What did I do to deserve that headache? At least she’s behaving. If the Pinkie Promise thing pans out, I should probably let her off with that for now until I can organize something more formal.

Ugh… Sugar… Index took a long sip of her delicious sugar water flavored with a hint of orange.

I need to follow up on Pinkie Pie’s ideas for bearers. That won’t be a fast process. How many can I do in a day? Especially starting this late in it. Cheerilee seemed decent enough. I should test her sometime. Bon Bon as well.

Hmm, I think I’ll push Bon Bon to near the top of the list. I need to touch up Lyra’s polymorph before it wears off if I don’t remove her suppressors.

I should probably check out the town in more detail while I’m investigating. I don’t really know anything about Ponyville.

“One order of zap apple muffins, hot out of the oven.”

Index jumped in place and got halfway to launching an offensive before she recalled where and who she was at the moment. She’d gotten so lost in her thoughts that, without her protective enchantments to warn her, Carrot Cake had managed to sneak up on her. He placed a plate with three muffins on it onto her table none the wiser to the hostile intent behind the glow of her snap-cast-happy horn. Beneath them, the napkin they rested on curled up on the sides and clung to the pastries with an ominously strong static cling. Indeed, she could hear a quiet electric crackle underneath the buzz of conversation in the bakery.

“Cup Cake tells me you’ve never had any zap apple delights before.”

“I’ve had the jam,” Index corrected.

“Ah, I figured you would have, coming from Canterlot. It’s rare outside of Ponyville, since it only grows near the Everfree and is a nightmare to harvest, but it usually makes its way up to the capital. Filthy Rich’s family first made its fortune selling it to the nobles.”

Index did her best to pay attention and not tune out the local trivia. She had, after all, literally just committed herself to learning more about Ponyville. “I’m not very familiar with the magics involved. Obviously, I was mistaken, but I thought zap apples were stable only in jam form.”

“Well, then you’d best eat your muffins before they vanish.”

“What?” It was too early in Index’s day for her food to walk out on her.

Carrot Cake winked.

“Oh. A joke. I see. How much do I owe you?”

“You’re a guest. It’s on the house so long as I get to watch you take your first bite. I love the first reactions.”

“Really? All right then.”

Her first nibble proved different than Index had expected. It was electrifying, of course, but that much had been obvious. What she’d not anticipated was the unique and amazing flavor it left behind. It was much like what she’d thought a rainbow would taste like before she’d gotten blasted into a vat of the stuff early in her career. Impassively, she held the muffin a centimeter away from her mouth. Then after a moment’s hesitation, she took a huge bite out of the remaining muffin and twitched as the discharge ran its way through her. “Honestly,” she began once she recovered, “I don’t know if the shock is good or bad. I’m certainly awake now, though.”

“I think you should talk to Big Mac out on Sweet Apple Acres. He’s the only other pony that’s reacted as calmly as you to our muffins. You might get along pretty well.”

Well, I suppose that’s another thing to do. Maybe not today, but sometime. We’ll see. Index nodded as she took another large bite with another twitch and then thanked Carrot Cake for the hospitality.

Oh, I wanted to meet the other two crusaders. Pinkie Pie’s stories made it sound like one of the group is a physics prodigy. Probably Apple Bloom. No surprise there that she hasn’t gotten her cutie mark yet. All she likely needs to do is take a step back to appreciate all of the projects she’s worked on. Abstract cutie marks are such a pain. Well worth it – Twilight wouldn’t trade hers for anything – but still a pain. I wonder what the third one brings to the table. The Crusaders are all really old to be blank flanks, so she’s probably in the same boat.

Now that I think about it, Flurry Heart is still a blank flank too, and she’s nine. Then a nightmarish vision of the future came to mind. Oh, no way. Not happening. Flurry Heart and Spike do not need to meet the Crusaders.

Anyway, I can meet Apple Bloom when I talk to that Big Mac character. They’re both low priority tasks.

Index polished off the last of her breakfast and downed what remained of her juice. She couldn’t think of anything else that she needed to do right now, so she rose to her hooves and set out to meet the day.

I need a notebook and a quill. I have research to do!

Ocellus felt the gentle nudge from her mother and queen in the hive mind to go about the task assigned to her. It was simple in nature, but she still wished she could have passed this off to someling else. What if she had the wrong pony? What if she didn’t? The archmage was not exactly the easiest pony to interact with. All she had to do was speak for her mother, which was all someling her age was really good for, yet–

Another mental push, this time a little more insistent and firm if still affectionate, came through the hive mind. Ocellus sighed and stepped toward the new pony in town who went by Index Code. When she finished speaking to another pony, her already heavy frown deepening, Ocellus saw her chance.

“Um, excuse me?”

Index Code turned her weighty gaze down upon Ocellus’s small pony form. There could be no question. This mare was indeed the archmage in disguise. “Yes?” she said simply before turning her eyes back upon the notebook floating in her magic.

“Her Majesty wishes to speak with you.”

Eyes alight with recognition, Index turned and ushered them both to a shady spot nearby where she cast a few minor spells. Ocellus didn’t recognize them, as her magical studies had only recently truly begun, but she expected they were to ensure their privacy.

Rather briskly, the archmage asked, “What is it?”

“Just repeat after me,” Chrysalis said encouragingly.

And so Ocellus did, if perhaps not with the same force of personality as her mother. “‘I’ve spoken with your princess. There are a few things you should know. The first and most important is that she all but declared you the head of state to me.’”

The archmage muttered something too quiet to parse.

“‘As such,’” Ocellus continued for her mother, “‘I’ll be dealing directly with you from now on. At least until after the solstice.’”

“Understood,” the archmage bit out.

Before the conversation between giants could continue, Ocellus, perhaps unwisely, broke from her role and asked, “Are you all right?”

The archmage’s expression twisted into one of befuddlement for a few seconds. “Oh,” she said. “Not Chrysalis.” After performing some strange breathing technique which had a remarkably calming effect upon her emotions, she said, “Yes. These last few days have just been…rough. May we continue?”

“Oh, yes, I’ll, uh, just…be quiet now. Sorry.”

To Ocellus’s relief, no reprimand came from either side of the conversation. All she felt over the hive mind was indulgent patience for a nymph out on her own, relatively speaking, in the world for the first time. It soon passed, however, and Chrysalis resumed speaking – with intent to mortify her, it seemed.

“‘You’ll have to forgive my heiress for the faux pas,’” Ocellus managed to repeat with not a little difficulty. “‘She’s young and inexperienced.’”

The archmage quirked an eyebrow at Ocellus. “Understandable,” she said. “And am I not here to make friends? It seemed an appropriate question to ask.” She looked fully at Ocellus rather than through her to Chrysalis on the other end of the hive mind. “She and I will have to converse some other time.”

“‘So long as you don’t drag her into your business with the Elements, feel free. It’ll be good for her.’”

“Perhaps a play date with Spike?” the archmage suggested.

Ocellus cursed her current pony form for allowing her to blush. Her mother found all this amusing, of course, as it seemed to be a universal trait amongst every species for parents to embarrass their children. It was a mercy, then, that when she put her hoof down, Chrysalis continued the conversation proper.

“‘Princess Celestia has requested that I fill in for the more practical aspects of your position while you’re away.’”

“That’s fine,” the archmage said, unconcerned in the least. “You may wish to coordinate with Moon Dancer, but I have no objections.”

“‘She’s specifically asked for me to discover Sunset Shimmer’s location.’”

That caught the archmage off guard. “Why?”

“‘My impression is that she’s looking for closure. It may also be that their infamous falling out had higher stakes than anyone knows.’”

The archmage said nothing for the longest time with a pensive, ruthful expression upon her face. “Don’t tell her anything,” she finally replied, now looking as weary as any mare Ocellus had ever seen and radiating emotions to match. “I’ll resolve the matter one way or another myself.”

“‘As you wish. I’ll leave you be, then, to return to discovering the power of friendship.’”

Chrysalis’s attention retreated from Ocellus in the hive mind while, in the physical world, the archmage snorted, not quite indignant but also distinctly unamused.

Not sure exactly what to do now, Ocellus said, “She’s gone, but if – well, I could bring her back if you want.”

The archmage waved a hoof dismissively. “No need.” She looked down at her notebook, then out to the market, and then her gaze returned back to Ocellus. “So, Princess of the Hive, eh?”

Ocellus nodded, slipped into short bob appropriate for what was the de facto Princess of Equestria as far as the hive was concerned, and formally introduced herself as she’d been taught. “My name is Princess Ocellus, Your Excellency. It’s a pleasure to meet the mare who mediated between Princess Celestia and our hive.”

“Twilight Sparkle,” the archmage replied. “I have more titles than I care for or bother to remember. Welcome to Equestria.”

It was the greater part of a decade too late for that, but Ocellus took it in the spirit with which it was meant.

“By the way, Chrysalis and I may have been teasing, but if you want to head to Canterlot to play with my son, feel free.”

That came as something of a surprise. The archmage was notoriously protective of her family.

“He gets on well with everyone,” the archmage continued. “I have no idea how I managed to raise such a mild-mannered young dragon, but there you go. Just be aware we don’t stand on formality behind closed doors when not acting in our official capacities. And sometimes even then.”

Ocellus considered the offer. She did want to see more of the world now that her mother was willing to give her a little autonomy. It would be nice to meet some people outside the hive, too. Perhaps she would take the opportunity and fly north up to Canterlot.

No.

Index had promptly returned to work after her unscheduled meeting with Chrysalis, looking for a distraction, and a distraction she had found. She’d just finished another round of questioning and, secretly, checking her informant’s memories for signs of tampering. As with everypony before him, there were none.

I refuse to accept this. This is too much, even for Pinkie Pie. There has to be some simpler, unifying explanation.

The only possible explanation had to be a massive prank the entire village played on poor unsuspecting visitors. It had to be.

Pinkie Promises? Sure. I have a general idea how those could work. They’re not completely outside the bounds of reality as I know it.

Flipping through her notes at unnatural speeds, desperately searching for some glaring inconsistency in the stories she’d gathered, Index drew a lot of attention to herself. It didn’t help that she was lying on a public bench on her back with her head in her arms while using a scrying spell to read. Soon enough, she had no choice but to admit defeat.

I can’t deny it no matter how much I wish I could. All of the stories are consistent with each other. This is either the most elaborate joke in history or Pinkie Pie legitimately has precognition.

The worst part was with everything Index had seen Pinkie Pie do already, part of her brain wanted to carelessly log the ability to see the future under the same category and get on with her life. It was only Pinkie Pie being Pinkie Pie, after all. Did that mean she also had the power to make herself seem mundane?

It’s like somepony just randomly threw abilities onto her and sat back with a bowl of popcorn to watch the chaos.

Index set her notebook on the ground and brought out the Royal Breathing Exercises. She felt a rant coming on and wanted to head it off early before she completely lost it. When she rolled over to have room to do so, however, she discovered a simple fact she’d forgotten: benches were narrow.

Ow…

The fall, while embarrassing, had at least reset her brain. Index lay unmoving for a minute to revel in the mild but distracting pain, exploring the sensation with an idle curiosity. Eventually, she grew bored, resigned herself to returning to work, and got to her hooves.

“Excuse me. Are you Index Code, the festival overseer?” The mare who’d spoken in a distinctly Canterlot accent was a unicorn somewhere in her twenties with a pure white coat and a purple mane and tail which could only be described as fabulous. Before Index could reply, she continued, “Oh, darling, you look terrible! Your eyes are all bloodshot, and your mane is a mess. Just look at all those split ends poking out of your braid. Ugh, and is that dirt on your coat? What happened?”

“Nothing. Just…” Not really wanting to get into everything with a stranger, especially one from out of town, Index dropped the subject. “What was it that you wanted? Did something come up with the celebration?”

“Hmm? Oh, no, not that. I am Rarity, Sweetie Belle’s elder sister.”

Oh, fantastic. Social climbers were, in many ways, more frustrating to deal with than the nobility. Index would withhold judgment for the moment out of respect for Sweetie Belle, but from what little she knew, this Rarity had all the warning signs.

“She told me how you saved her life yesterday,” Rarity continued, “and I knew right then that I simply must thank you for what you did.”

Although wary of Rarity’s true intentions with the offer, Index replied, “You’re welcome. I would say it was nothing, but I could really use a pick-me-up right now. What did you have in mind?”

“I was just on my way to the Ponyville Day Spa. Join me? My treat. No offense, darling, but you look like you would benefit from a little pampering.”

That sounded like a huge waste of time which Index simply couldn’t turn down. But the words that actually left her mouth were, “There’s a day spa in Ponyville?”

“Well, of course there is. Let me lead you there.” Rarity set off toward the center of Ponyville with Index following a step behind. “Where would this town be without a wonderful spa? Aloe and Lotus Blossom are the best masseurs outside of Canterlot. All those farmers would be a dreadful mess of tense muscles, dry hooves, and ghastly manes if their services were not available.”

“Right…” Perhaps this was just another idiosyncrasy of Ponyville Index just had to accept. “Wait. Is that a bowling alley? And an Equestria Games regulation high dive? That doesn’t make any sense. This is a farming village, isn’t it?”

“Yes, dear, but you see, both were a favorite past time of Granny Smith back in her youth, and the sports followed her here. She’s had a lot of influence over Ponyville as one of its principle founders. It also helps that she’s been the head of the Apple family for the longest time. All manner of odd things have sprouted up around her interests over the decades.”

“I guess that makes–” A far more inconceivable sight caught Index’s eye. “Why!” What idiot thought a shop dedicated exclusively to selling quills and sofas made for a cohesive business model?

Rarity followed Index’s gaze before adopting a somewhat sheepish expression. “Yes, well, I have no explanation for that one. But it’s not as though there’s any shortage of demand.” She looked back at Index as they passed by yet another odd store. “Not going to comment on Mr Breezy’s Fan Shoppe?”

“No. I already know the explanation for that one.”

Nonplussed, Rarity had no response to that.

“That was a lie, of course. This town is an endless source of madness.”

Rarity chuckled, seemingly not offended by the comment. Whether that be because she had the self-awareness to recognize the truth or no longer – or never had – considered this her home, who knew?

Regardless, the pair arrived at the day spa. It seemed to require an appointment for service, but Rarity performed some social magic to convince the receptionist to admit Index as well on her reservation.

As it was her first visit to a spa, Index had only a vague idea of what to expect. But between the massage, the hooficure, and the mud bath, she was beginning to think this was going to become a more frequent part of her life. There were times in the midst of her research when she could get a few contiguous hours where she could work purely from her thoughts with maybe just a bit of magic thrown in here or there.

Rarity tossed some water onto the sauna rocks. Once the hissing died down, now that they finally had a bit of privacy, she said, “Sweetie Belle tells me you work directly under the archmage.”

It begins. As there was little use in denying it, Index said, “Is that all she told you?” If Rarity pressed too hard for whatever she was after, Index would simply shut her down, leave, and hope Sweetie Belle didn’t take too much offense when her sister got blacklisted.

“Well, no. There were one or two other tiny details involved. I’m sure you already know how excitable she can be. It was…an ordeal to get her into bed last night.”

Index chuckled at that. She remembered those days. More often than not, Spike would…

It was then that Index recalled that Sweetie Belle had specifically used the term ‘guardians’ instead of parents. She eyed Rarity with a hint of cautious respect as she reevaluated what little she knew about the mare with this new piece of information.

“Anyway, you simply must tell me all about the castle. I hear it’s a marvelous work of architecture with some of the most exquisite art in the world.”

“I…suppose there’s some truth to that,” Index began hesitantly. “For the architecture, at least, especially at night. I don’t have the best eye for such things, but there’s something elegant about how it hangs from the mountain and the way water flows around it. There’s no magic involved, just engineering bedazzlement.

“Personally, I’m more impressed with the rest of the city. I don’t know what possessed Princess Celestia to build her capital on a mountainside, but the original settlers did a fantastic job getting it to spiral with the mountain face without making the streets steep or using too many stairs. Although…I do recall losing my favorite ball when I was two. It just rolled away, never to return. I spent the rest of the day inconsolable.”

Rarity hummed as she processed Index’s response. “I cannot say I quite understand your point of view,” she ultimately replied. “But if you said that to Apple Bloom, you would probably have a new best friend. I honestly don’t know how that filly has yet to acquire a cutie mark in some field of engineering.”

“It’ll happen eventually. She just needs some perspective or maybe a proper challenge to spark the process. Much like your little sister with magic.”

“Yes,” Rarity said uneasily. “I’ll be proud of her, of course, but at the same time, I’m not looking forward to that moment. She and her friends already cause enough trouble as it is. I dread to imagine what mischief they’ll engage in once they have a bit of focus.”

“My condolences,” Index said, not quite able to hide the laughter in her voice.

“Yes, thank you,” Rarity flatly replied. “But never mind my drama. Tell me, have you ever been to the gala?”

Had Index ever been to the Grand Galloping Gala? No, not once. But Twilight? Oh, she most certainly had. “Urgh, don’t remind me. My friend drags me there every year. She has to attend, and according to her, if she has to suffer through it, then so do I.”

“What? But the gala is the premier event in Canterlot! The society, the culture, the glamour!”

“The unqualified boredom.” Twilight snorted and then threw more water onto the sauna rocks. “Perhaps its different if you’re there to network. Me? I stand around and greet ponies I hate while I pretend to pay attention to the few words we exchange before the next arrives. Wash, rinse, and repeat the entire night.”

“That does sound rather dreary,” Rarity admitted. “I design ensembles for the gala every year, but I’ve never been myself. Perhaps you recall one of Fleur de Lis’s dresses over the past few years?”

“Fashion isn’t really my thing.”

When she was young and innocent, Twilight had presented herself at such events in all the formal attire expected of her. But as the years dragged on, she’d stopped caring entirely, opting instead to merely wear the regalia associated with her office. Who had she ever really been trying to impress, anyway? Society? Not a chance. A romantic prospect? She had a fair amount of evidence suggesting she was asexual. Celestia? She’d already won her mentor’s respect a thousand times over for far more substantial reasons than physical beauty.

“I don’t know. Have you made anything for Octavia Melody? I bump into her fairly often.”

“Darling,” Rarity said, drawing the word out, “I created her entire wardrobe.”

“Really?” Although only vaguely, Twilight did recall Celestia commenting positively just between the two of them on one of Octavia’s dresses. It was such a rare event that it’d stuck in her memory, and she knew Celestia had a discerning eye for, well, everything. “Do you make more than dresses?”

Rarity’s eyes were already alight. “What did you have in mind?”

“Something functional.”

For years now, Twilight had meant to make a few magical artifacts of her own design. She in particular wanted a combat robe she could throw on if caught flat-hoofed. It would only rarely address the specific threats she faced, but it could cover all of the common avenues of attack and had the distinct advantage of being undispellable. Artifacts had to be actively suppressed in a continuous process, starved of ambient magic, or outright destroyed to end their effects. All that had really stopped her from making it had been an ever present lack of time, but now a pony she could potentially outsource to had waltzed right into her life.

“Have you ever worked with thaumic thread?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what that is,” Rarity replied with some chagrin. To be fair to her, however, Equestria had only rediscovered the rather niche material in the last couple decades. “Oh, but I do love a challenge. Do go on.”

“Well, in short, you literally weave enchantments.”

Rarity shot upright from where she’d lain. A gasp slipped past her lips, and then she sang, “Idea!” Somepony was passionate about her work, it seemed. “Oh, where is my sketchpad when I need it?”

Although she rolled her eyes, Twilight obliged and pulled a blank notebook with a pencil from her subspace storage. Just in case, she also zapped it with a waterproofing enchantment. Rarity accepted the materials without question and immediately set to work on whatever designs had popped into her head.

“You may wish to wait a moment,” Twilight cautioned.

“Darling, inspiration waits for nopony.”

Twilight couldn’t resist another roll of her eyes. Was that what she was like when she got into one of her own moods? Surely not.

“But do continue,” Rarity insisted. “I’m listening.”

“Right, well, thaumic thread is made from solidified magic. It’s extremely expensive and, if mishandled, extraordinarily dangerous. Once the basic form is set, it’s my understanding that the fabrics must then undergo a special treatment to turn it from a deathtrap into a proper magical artifact. There’s a similar, more established process in metallurgy which you might want to look into. The Royal Guard uses it to make their armor.”

Rarity’s hum came off rather dismissively. “If this process works as I suspect, a rigid form would be much easier to work with, especially with a durability spell to prevent damage. The enchantments in my weave would have to adapt to the changing shape of the cloth. I imagine that requires spatial magic sewn into the final product. I’ve never had the knack for it with a horn, but no matter. I can stitch any pattern, or my name isn’t Rarity.”

“I can provide the spellwork required. Do you know how to read spell diagrams?”

“No,” Rarity admitted, “but Sweetie Belle does. I can borrow whatever book she learned from.”

Twilight’s eyebrows rose in some surprise. She’d thought to give that to Sweetie Belle as her next assignment to open every serious magical text to her perusal, but it seemed something else would be in order. But that would keep until later.

“I can also provide the thread. And some extra to experiment with, of course.” The main cost in the material’s production, as Twilight understood it, was the sheer raw magic required. She had no lack of it herself, and she also had Magic. At worst, it’d be an afternoon project to produce the necessary supplies. “Do you want the job?”

Aghast at the question, Rarity echoed, “Do I want the job?” She rose to her hooves and struck a dramatic pose. “Darling, this is the opportunity of a lifetime! Magic dresses! The very notion! I’d never even considered it. Oh, I simply cannot wait to turn my imaginings into reality!”

It was hard to argue with the eager. “I’ll try to get the spells and thread to you by the next moon. What were you thinking in terms of price?”

“Price?” Clearly, the thought had never occurred to Rarity. “Oh, yes. Give my parents a talking-to for me, and we’ll call it even.”

That…doesn’t seem even remotely fair? “I’m not sure I understand.” That said, Twilight did wonder exactly what the family dynamic was in Sweetie Belle’s life. The more she learned, the more complicated it seemed to become.

As Rarity retook her seat and relaxed once more, she let out a long sigh. “It’s…complicated,” she said, a fitting description. While she considered how to proceed, she added more steam to the sauna. “My parents leave my sister in my care often enough that I make most day-to-day decisions regarding her upbringing. Suffice it to say, the three of us have had some…disagreements. My lack of formal custody prevents me forcing the matter or even having an equal vote, and the idea of dragging the entire family through the courts is…”

“An unpleasant necessity you keep talking yourself out of?”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” Rarity said with an unease which belied her words.

While Twilight didn’t consider this exchange of favors a proper business transaction, she was certainly invested enough in Sweetie Belle to hear Rarity out. They could discuss payment for services to be rendered some other time. “What precisely is the nature of your disagreement?”

“It’s Sweetie Belle’s education. She deserves better than what Ponyville can offer her.”

“I’ve had the very same thought myself.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you agree,” Rarity said excitedly. “My parents don’t want her to be away from her friends and family. I volunteered to stay with her, of course. Canterlot would be ideal for both of us, to be perfectly honest, but I can move my primary place of business anywhere in Equestria. Apparently, that’s not enough for some ponies.”

“It does sound somewhat hypocritical. And you want me to…scold them?”

“I know what I’m asking is rather uncouth, but somepony of your position? Why, they’d just have to listen.”

Meddling in family affairs was never pleasant. Not that Twilight expected to need to be as heavy-hoofed with Sweetie Belle’s parents as with Cadance’s, but she had none of Celestia’s social grace. Maybe she could pull Cadance from Canterlot and just stand in the background with a disapproving glower. Calling in Celestia would be overkill in a bad way, she was sure.

“I don’t know, Rarity. I’m willing to try, but you might be taking the wrong approach here. At best, I can tell them things they, I assume, already know. At worst, I can show up in full regalia and cow them into submission.”

“If it takes a little intimidation, I…” As Rarity trailed off, she peered at Twilight with a scrutinizing gaze. “Do forgive me, dear, but I never asked. What exact position do you hold?”

Well, that question came out of no…where… Wait. What titles have true regalia again?

“Oh, ho!” Rarity smirked. “I smell a secret.”

Horseapples! How long had Twilight forgotten to stay in character? How many things had she let slip?

Heedless to Twilight’s internal panic, Rarity continued on with her ruminations. “Surely you’re not the princess or the archmage in disguise. They’re much too busy for this sort of small-scale intrigue. Princess Mi Amore Cadenza isn’t a unicorn, and you clearly have magic. Certainly not her parents, and last I heard, her husband was still in Canterlot. Perhaps somepony from Prince Blueblood’s line? No, they’re well accounted for with his birthday soirée approaching. Perhaps one of our ambassadors due to return home–”

“Rarity, what does it matter?”

“What does it matter? Why, darling, intrigue is the spice of life! Oh, but do rest assured, I’ll keep this to myself. There’s no fun in a secret exposed.”

Twilight heaved an exasperated sigh. I suppose she’s not likely to reveal me after what I’ve done for her sister. “Fine. But not a word to anypony not in the know, Sweetie Belle included.”

In a surprising move, Rarity voluntarily underwent a Pinkie Promise without prompting. It was then, to Twilight’s immense frustration, when she felt no particular stirring of magic upon its invocation. She had too many stories of it being a legitimate phenomenon to ignore completely, yet at the same time, she now had no idea how it worked – if it worked as advertised. Perhaps Pinkie Pie had managed to inflate her reputation beyond her actual abilities through some clever manipulations. It didn’t seem her style – or even like something she had the mental capacity for – but perhaps that was part of the ruse.

For the moment, Twilight pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. Science could wait. She had a dramatic reveal to deal with which she hoped to keep as undramatic as possible despite her audience’s obvious penchant for drama.

“You were a little quick to dismiss me from consideration. Honestly, other than Celestia, who else would you expect to be able to tutor Sweetie Belle? My brother?” Twilight scoffed. “He’d never make a convincing mare. The whole village would know within an hour.”

It took less than a second for Rarity to connect the dots. “Your Excellency!” As she scrambled to her hooves in a near panic to bow, she continued, “I apologise for my sister’s behavior and for my informality.”

Twilight cut Rarity off with a hoof. “Don’t. I’m here to get away from all that while I work.”

Although hesitant at first, Rarity acceded to the request. “If you insist.” And then the other shoe dropped. “Oh, Sweetie Belle will be so excited! She simply adores you, you know. You will tell her eventually, won’t you?”

“Most likely, yes.” It would depend on a few factors. How much did Twilight want to emulate her own mysterious first mentor? How would Sweetie Belle respond to Index disappearing without a trace? Would the likely inevitable search benefit her? Would it be safer for her not to know if Celestia lost? While Twilight was inclined to reveal her identity at some future point, she would need to think about it a little more.

Twilight rose to her hooves. “I should get going.” It would probably be best to let Rarity ride out her initial surprise and excitement on her own. “This was my first time at a spa, and I rather enjoyed it. You have my thanks for that. I imagine we’ll see each other again soon.”

“Hmm, the mayor is one busy little bee, isn’t she?” The new dossier in Index’s magic had substantially more details of the coming festival decided upon over only the past day. Most appeared minor and tedious at a glance but ultimately essential. “Is it fine if I stop by every day for a new copy?”

Amethyst Star, nodding with a bit of a laugh, said, “It’s no problem at all. Would you like another seven or eight copies? The mayor is pedantic about her paperwork. Everything is filed in triplicate and ready to duplicate at a moment’s notice. We keep one copy here, send one out of town to a secret storage facility, and lock a third underground at another site in Ponyville in case of fire or monster attack.”

Index quirked an eyebrow. “I guess I can’t fault her for having her priorities in order, but one is plenty for me, thank you. Give me the highlights?”

“There’s not much to tell. Fluttershy says her animal friends’ choir has agreed to participate in the festival. She’ll supposedly be conducting them as usual, but I’m a bit worried she may bolt or not even show up.”

Index cocked her head to the side and asked why.

“She’s terribly shy. Hence the name, I suppose. She has a few friends here and there but otherwise likes to stay out of sight. The last time a large group came through town, we didn’t see her until two days after they left.”

Well, good I know that in advance. I suppose that means I need to get one of her friends to come with me if I want to meet her. Pinkie Pie should work fine for that. It did occur to Index to wonder how that hyperactive pony hadn’t given Fluttershy a heart attack when initially befriending her. “Anything else?”

Amethyst Star shrugged. “Only if you find weather management interesting. Can’t stand the work myself. Dash finally got around to finalizing the weather schedule up to the festival. We’ll have a bunch of extra light showers and a heavier storm before then to compensate for a week of pure spring sunshine.”

With that, Index and Amethyst Star said their goodbyes. On her way past the mayor’s office out of town hall, Index noticed a line of ponies who looked like out-of-towners awaiting for an audition standing outside it. As I said, one busy little bee.

When Index stepped outside, she saw Pinkie Pie prancing across the square. She heard the mare wish each pony she passed a happy birthday in an arbitrary number of days, all of which were apparently correct judging by the positive responses from the ponies in question. What a strange pony.

Suddenly, Pinkie Pie’s tail started twitching in a manner oddly reminiscent of how she’d vibrated the last morning. Index knew at once what lay before her. A chance to observe the Pinkie Sense! She pulled out her notes on the pink enigma and started recording what occurred.

First, the more observant ponies in the area bolted away from Pinkie Pie as quickly as they could, some seeking shelter under buildings and some simply heading for the hills.

Second, the less observant ponies, after being shoved and jostled out of the way, picked up on the message and joined the first group in their flight.

Third, Pinkie Pie herself ducked under a nearby bench and covered her head with a novelty umbrella hat which she had, for lack of a more discernible origin, congealed from the aether when Index blinked.

Only moments later, the sound of something shattering carried through the air.

Index’s quill paused in its faithful labor. It may not have been the sound of Index’s world view breaking, but it certainly was confirmation that it had broken.

So…precognition exists.

Shuffling that thought to the back of her mind as quickly as she could, Index returned to recording her observations. Denial, frustration, and likely some philosophical dread could come later. Looking toward where the sound had originated, she spotted a broken flowerpot a few houses down from where Pinkie Pie had taken cover.

While Index logged her findings, Pinkie Pie and the rest of the crowd returned to their normal business. This event worthy of hundreds of academic papers was, for them, nothing new nor unexpected. It was just part of their view of the world, something no less mundane than gravity.

Index slipped back inside town hall. Once she verified that there was nopony in the lobby, she concealed her presence from eyes, ears, nose, and horn with a few advanced spells. It was imperative she be allowed to observe her specimen in its natural habitat without notice – assuming Pinkie Pie didn’t have a Pinkie Sense to tell her when she was being followed. A pair of gossamer wings sprouted from Index’s back. They were fragile, but they would suffice to allow her to trail her subject undisturbed. She just needed to avoid bumping into pegasi to remain hidden.

Quill once more at the ready, Index stepped back outside, located Pinkie Pie, and set after her through the air for science.

On the outskirts of Ponyville was a cloud, and not just any cloud, but the Cloudominium. This was a massive structure built by and built for the most awesome pony in Equestria. Four stories high with rainbow accents in both liquid and vapor form and Cloudsdale architecture, only the best of the best could live there. Once, the Cloudominium had stayed closer to the ground. Ponyville’s postal service had refused to rent Cherry Berry’s hot air balloon solely to deliver mail to it or to provide other special accommodations. But ever since Derpy, their first pegasus postmare, had joined the service, it had soared unfettered high in the sky, far out of the reach of anything without wings, as the one and only cloud home in town.

Scootaloo pulled along a partially solidified cloud tethered to her magic to an advantageous position a few hundred meters removed from her idol’s residence. Upon it rested a bucket of water to be used for construction purposes. After every visit, Rainbow Dash cleared away the stairs she made to force her to practice her weather magic. It was annoying that her mentor continued to do so even now, but she couldn’t argue with the results. She’d mastered the art of cloud control far beyond what most pegasi were capable of under Rainbow Dash’s instruction.

Looking up and shielding her eyes from the sun, Scootaloo eyed the angle between her position and the Cloudominium. She judged herself to be in a decent position, neither steep enough to make for a difficult ascent nor so gentle that she’d run out of building material. As such, she started evaporating the water in her bucket and latched onto the vapor with her magic. She then waited until she felt she had an acceptable surplus as a safety net. It was, by this point, something she did on instinct. Rainbow Dash’s first rule of being awesome was to make sure that being not awesome, however unlikely, didn’t prevent you from being awesome in the future. She’d had that unbreakable law drilled into her head for years.

In all honesty, Scootaloo thought it’d mostly been for her friends’ benefit. She tended to be the one who kept the Crusaders from getting themselves killed. Apple Bloom could get carried away in their projects if left unchecked, and while Sweetie Belle was there to patch them up afterward and even sometimes bail them out in emergencies, she had little restraint when she got lost in her magic.

Now ready for the climb, Scootaloo took a step forward. A cloud leapt into being beneath her hoof, forming the first stair to the Cloudominium. She continued on this way up into the sky, tugging her bucket along to provide more water vapor as she went. It was so easy and natural these days, she could do it in her sleep.

Once Scootaloo reached her destination, a trail of tiny clouds dotted the sky behind her back to the ground. She left the cloud carrying her bucket behind and approached Rainbow Dash’s front door, whereupon she knocked. A minute passed, after which it opened to reveal the mare in question.

“Hey, Squirt. You’re early.”

“Yeah, I know. But I’ve got news.”

Rainbow Dash stepped aside. Scootaloo entered, found her usual spot, and grabbed a few sweets already set out for her.

“So what’s the news?” Rainbow Dash asked as she sat down across from Scootaloo.

“Get this. There’s a new pony in town who thinks she’s cooler than you.”

With a single beat of her wings, Rainbow Dash leapt to her hooves and said, “What! Who is this pony?”

“It’s that festival mare, Index Code. She came in and saved Sweetie Belle during that stampede, and now Sweetie Belle thinks she’s the best pony ever. I’d bet that the ponies that witnessed it think so, too.”

“Rescuing ponies is my job! I mean, it’s great Sweets is fine and all, but I gotta defend my turf. What does she look like?”

Scootaloo hadn’t gotten the best look at the mare, but she cast her mind back to the stampede. “Roughly your age, maybe a little younger. Light-yellow. White mane and tail. I think it was in a braid.”

The description made Rainbow Dash pale.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Rainbow Dash hastily denied. “I guess I can’t be everywhere in town at once. Maybe I should think about getting a sidekick.”

“Hey! What about me?”

“I’d say you’re more of a protégé or a little sister.”

Scootaloo flushed and looked away. “W-well, I guess that’s fine too.”

“Anyway, you were right to bring this to my attention, Squirt. I’ll have to check out what’s going on tomorrow.”

“Not today?”

“Nah. We’ve still got your lessons to take care of. I was thinking we’d go long today and eat out together when we’re done. We can go ahead and start if you’re ready.”

“Let’s do this!” Scootaloo set down the remains of her snack and hopped up from her seat with a happy buzz of her wings.

The pair of pegasi left for the collection of clouds the Cloudominium called a lawn. Rainbow Dash separated a small section of it around them and then, with practiced ease, commanded the platform to ascend further into the sky. They only stopped climbing when Ponyville below looked like an ant colony.

“You doing okay, Squirt?”

“No problem!” There had been a time not so very long ago when the chill of even mild heights would nip at her, but no longer.

“Awesome. Then in that case we’ll skip the basics and start work on the really cool stuff. How have you been doing with cloud condensation?”

“I’m still not fast enough for cloud hopping without a water source nearby, but I’m fast enough to keep myself from crashing into the ground. Usually.” One of the few things about being a pegasus which Scootaloo had always been able to take for granted was the lower density and crash resistance, but long falls still hurt.

Rainbow Dash hummed thoughtfully as she tapped a hoof to her jaw. “Keep working on that on your own for now, then. Cloud hopping looks really, really sweet when you get it down. We just need to keep building your magic up. For now, let’s work on your skating. You know what to do.”

Scootaloo focused her magic around her hooves, attracting some of the cloud around them into four fluffy balls which attached to her. Plucking her new skates out of the rest of the cloud, she took a step with each hoof into the air. She stayed fixed in place there, beaming.

“Not bad, Squirt. You’re getting a lot faster at that. Way better than you used to be, that’s for sure.” Rainbow Dash hopped into the air with a little assistance from her wings. Clouds appeared at her hooves, all four taking a much more stylish winged appearance than Scootaloo’s simple spheres. “You’ve gotten walking down reasonably well, so today we’re going to try proper skating. I suppose it’s more like running if you want to get technical, but you’d be smart to take a few cues from your accomplice. Now watch closely, because if you mess up your form, there’s no telling where you’re going to end up.”

A few minutes passed as Scootaloo watched Rainbow Dash’s legs intently. They lazily moved back and forth in a sweeping motion like a cross between a trot and the way Sweetie Belle skated. While Rainbow Dash traced circles around her, she made a few cautious movements and started forward slowly. Unlike the cloud walking she’d already learned, which required her to do nothing more than move normally, this was a smooth, flowing motion. When she made a mistake, instead of a jerky stop, she was sent flailing about with her limbs pulling her in every which way until Rainbow Dash stabilized her.

“Pretty decent for a first timer,” Rainbow Dash said. “Your goal right now should be to learn to keep your balance. Speed can come after that. If you completely wipe out, I’ll catch you, so just do your thing. You’ll probably be ready to start practicing on your own in a couple weeks, but until then, first rule of being awesome.”

“Make sure that being not awesome, however unlikely, doesn’t prevent me from being awesome in the future,” Scootaloo quoted flatly. “I won’t try this without supervision. Promise.”

Scootaloo started moving forward again, slowly improving her form until she managed to get to a constant, slow drift.

“All right,” Rainbow Dash began, “you’ve learned to crawl forward. Now it’s time to learn to turn. There’s a better way to do this, but we’ll start simple. All you need to do is lean into the direction you want to go.”

Rainbow Dash demonstrated the technique as she had before, but this time she made large, dramatic movements to better show off the principle. “Got it?”

“I think so…”

Scootaloo got her drift going again and tried turning only to end up spinning about her nose along her spinal axis straight toward the ground. Once Rainbow Dash caught her and halted her descent, she gave a sheepish, “Whoops.”

“No problem, Squirt. Just keep trying. We’re going to get you from here to town by the end of the day or die trying.”

Greetings from the weirdest place on Equus!

That really says it all, doesn’t it? Ponyville is…it’s like if you walked through a mirror and ended up in a strange alternate dimension. Did you know they have a store here that exclusively sells sofas and quills? Yeah. I don’t see the connection, and neither did my tour guide.

And that’s barely even scratching the surface! There are three blank flank fillies here who introduce themselves as the Cutie Mark Crusaders. I wouldn’t put them past being Discord’s offspring with the kind of chaos they create. At least two of them are brilliant. The third I don’t know much about yet. I accidentally tutored one of them (Sweetie Belle) after I saved her life before I realized who she was, so we’ll see where that goes. If Equestria is on fire by this time next moon, you know who to blame.

Speaking of, did you know ponds can burn? I sure didn’t. I suspect we’ll need to update our list of hazardous chemicals, but hey, I learned something about oxidation, and the Crusaders will likely have at least one academic paper under their belts once I nudge them in the right direction. Good times.

There’s a few changelings here. I actually met the princess of Chrysalis’s hive, which was neat. But (and to be honest, by now I don’t know what I was expecting) I also found an illegal immigrant from Aquestria. She put a hole right through my leg. I slapped a few suppressors on her horn in the end, but I’m still deciding what to do with her. I think I may extract a binding magical vow (see attached document) until life is less busy. We can talk it over together later. Her case is complicated.

The library here had a book specifically about the Elements of Harmony. It turned out to be pretty useless, but it was literally a reference guide for them. Not as detailed as the notes you gave me, but go figure.

I met Sweetie Belle’s older sister today. She was very different than my first impression of her suggested. I ended up commissioning her to make some magical clothing for me and then, to my chagrin, blew my cover with her. Still, she promised to remain silent, so all’s well that ends well. Probably for the best, anyway, if this is to be the start of a long business relationship.

Oh, we need check up on the state of the healthcare department. We may be slipping in rural areas or, if not that, then possibly with orphans. One of the Crusaders has malformed wings. I haven’t investigated further yet, but they didn’t look beyond repair at a glance.

Lastly, there’s this earth pony named Pinkie Pie who violated many of my (former) fundamental assumptions about reality. I’m currently sharing a room with her. I think we’re friends.

I would say more, but my field report will explain itself sufficiently. If you have any thoughts/ideas/suggestions please share.

P.S. My spymaster informs me that finding Sunset Shimmer has become a priority. What exactly happened between you two? From the silenced witnesses, your sister’s circumstances, and our own relationship, I have my suspicions, but I’d rather hear it from you than make assumptions.

Subject: Pinkie Pie (Pinkamena Diane Pie)
Scientific Name: Pinkius Pieicus (pending)
Nearest Related Species: Earth Pony(?)
Habitat: Urban Dwellings

A strange creature. From casual observations so far, Pinkie Pie seems able to survive purely on foods typically classified as desserts. She appears to suffer no negative effects from ingestion of other foods, but no long-term data could be obtained. Weak evidence is offered by the rest of Ponyville – her place of residence for nearly six years – from testimonials claiming that she has never been sick outside of one food poisoning incident which would send anypony to the hospital.

A ‘Pinkie Promise’ is a simple ritual wherein a pony recites the line ‘cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye’ with an accompanying gesture of sticking a cupcake in one’s eye. There is no consensus on which eye should be chosen or if it matters, nor which hoof. In so doing, a vow is made.

Witness testimony (see Appendix D) provides evidence for the consequences of breaking a Pinkie promise. As the provided testimony suggests, Pinkie Pie is somehow able to know exactly by who, when, and where a Pinkie Promise is broken. She does not seem to receive information concerning the circumstances nor the contents of the vow. However, her enforcement of oaths made in her name gives way to no excuses. Although oathbreakers live to see another day, they are not unchanged (see Appendix E). No testimony could be elicited from them as they outright refused to even acknowledge questions on the subject.

On a lighter note, further testimony reveals that one can be released from a Pinkie Promise with no further consequences. This is in keeping with Pinkie Pie’s belief that ‘losing a friend’s trust is the fastest way to lose a friend forever’. A promise need be kept only when it remains wanted. There are, of course, ways to abuse this system that seem to elude her worldview, but there’s little doubt her vengeance would be twice as fierce and turn on the transgressor if confronted with such.

Early hypotheses to explain the mechanics of Pinkie Promises (documented in Appendix A) have proven themselves unlikely to hold water.

The subject also exhibits many other odd behaviors and abilities, some of which may be attributable to ordinary earth pony magic.

Pinkie Pie is capable of near-teleport bursts of movement. This includes a superb sense of balance and a resistance to high accelerations. She has utilized this for a few observed purposes so far including but not limited to avoiding falling objects and preparing and cleaning up miniature parties. See Appendix B for a list of observed uses by witnesses.

Additionally, the subject is capable of retrieving and storing some objects seemingly from nowhere in a manner similar to subspace storage. The most frequent object to make an appearance is a cannon which fires, among other things, confetti. With smaller objects, she often uses her mane as a medium for this exchange, although nothing indicates that this is a necessary action.

Evidence also suggests the social portion of Pinkie Pie’s brain is highly advanced. She knows thousands of ponies on an individual level and purports to be friends with them all, showing no concern for the postulated Dunbar’s number, nor any higher value. The level of detailed knowledge of their lives she exhibits implies that these are, somehow, meaningful relationships on some level.

For future observation, Pinkie Pie keeps a toothless alligator named Gummy as a pet. No interesting phenomena have been observed with regards to him other than being an alligator.

Most troubling of all is the ability referred to as the ‘Pinkie Sense’. The Pinkie Sense allows Pinkie Pie to predict certain events which have not yet occurred. This suggests we have a fundamental misconception of the universe. The following procedure was performed to confirm the efficaciousness of the Pinkie Sense regarding falling objects.

Flip a bit. If heads, drop a flower pot near Pinkie Pie. If suns, take no action. Wait one minute, and then repeat for some sufficiently large number of trials.

The phenomenon known as ‘Twitchy Tail’ successfully occurred on twelve out of twelve heads and no ‘Twitchy Tail’ was observed on fourteen out of fourteen suns. The ‘Twitchy Tail’ event has a five second mean foresight with minor variance likely attributable to magical fluctuations or reaction times in the subject.

Note that deliberate contradiction of the ‘Twitchy Tail’ event was not attempted. Further extraordinarily cautious studies will need to be undertaken to determine what effect a paradox would have on the universe. It may be possible that time is cyclic and, by nature, disallows paradoxes. If so, the universe is very fortunate.

Among the many other events the Pinkie Sense reveals is the foreknowledge of doors opening unexpectedly, bee attacks(?), and shocking events (doozies). See Appendix C for a full list and details of alleged and confirmed Pinkie Senses.

It should be noted that the ability to predict any one event can be used to predict any other event through judicious application of the given event only in the presence of the desired alternate event in a controlled environment.

On a less professional note, I call dibs on all the casinos in Las Pegasus. I’ve always wanted my own pyramid, and I hear the castle there has a moat.

Fortunately, Pinkie Pie appears to be a benign creature mainly interested in celebrations, friendship, and the celebration of friendship. Her personality, in the absence of a deep deception, is suited for neither great evil nor mischief beyond foalish pranks. Every effort should be made to ensure she remains this way. For anypony getting bad ideas, it is important to stress that the Pinkie Sense would almost certainly make it impossible to capture or terminate her. Do not attempt.

Current hypotheses to explain the subject are the following:

Pinkie Pie has a deep understanding of earth pony magic on at least an instinctual level. Possible, as earth pony magic is by far the least studied of the three main Equestrian branches of magic.

Pinkie Pie is the offspring of Discord.

Pinkie Pie is not an earth pony and has somehow managed to confound my detection abilities. While this seems reasonable at first blush, a very strong brute force counter spell had no noticeable effect on her, nor did she react to it. Attempts to disable any artifacts in her possession met with similar results.

Pinkie Pie is the target of a grand global magic and receives aid and information from it.

Pinkie Pie is significantly smarter than the average pony and understands something about the universe we do not, exploiting it for her own amusement. Weak evidence for, given her observed, if unfocused, intelligence.

Further observations will appear in a later field report.

Apple Bloom stared mournfully at her clubhouse. Repairing the years of neglect since Applejack had last used it as a young filly was the first thing the Crusaders ever had done together. Every time they had to rebuild it, it lost a little of what had originally made it special. And now? Now its structural integrity was completely gone. She hated to admit it, but they would have to tear it down and start over from scratch. At least now they would have the opportunity to add in all the bells and whistles. That was something.

A long sigh escaped Apple Bloom as, having taken the measurements she’d needed, she turned away from her clubhouse. I need to get Scoots to ask Dash or Derpy to come by. Either should have the whole thing down in ten seconds flat. Big Mac can haul the wreckage away. Then we can start fresh. I need to remember to leave room for stairs up to a high tower for Scoots to start her glides off of. Though now that I think of it, she hasn’t been bothering me for one for a while now. Might need to ask if she still wants it.

What else? I’ll need Sweetie Belle to learn a few more spells to create all of the electrical components I’ll need. A continuous conjuration ain’t a long-term solution, so we’ll need something more permanent. Worst case, I guess we’ll have to mail order. Apple Bloom sighed at the costs involved. Electronics were such a niche field in Equestria with a small enough supply to drive prices through the roof. It was such a shame. Electricity scaled far better than magic.

At her workbench, Apple Bloom recorded the final measurements she’d needed to rebuild their clubhouse. They really should take the opportunity to move it out of the tree Applejack had originally built it in, but there was too much tradition and meaning to put it anywhere else. As she made some initial sketches, her thoughts turned back to what other major requirements she had to engineer around.

I’m gonna need to set up a generator. Potato power ain’t gonna cut it anymore. Powering it with magic is probably the easiest solution. I’ll need to ask Sweetie Belle if it’d be better for her to use something like a hoof crank or if I should build a steam engine for her to sink heat into. Thinking about it, it appeared to be a simple trade-off. The former had greater efficiency with no middlemare involved in the energy conversion. The latter, however, had superior ease of use. Sweetie Belle could cast and forget a warming spell, only occasionally adding more power into it.

Hmm, you know, I reckon steam is the way to go regardless. I can use it even when Sweetie Belle ain’t around if I install a firebox and set it up right. Either way, I need to know how much I can get from her before I start bucking an empty tree.

“Soup’s on, everypony!” came the distant bellow of Applejack.

Hesitating briefly, Apple Bloom set out for the main building and another round of cheek rubbing. Recently, a few too many members of the extended family had arrived for the reunion set to begin the week before the solstice, most of them old and needing more time to travel, recuperate, and do whatever it was old ponies did together. They also had an insatiable desire to fuss over the youngest member of the family present.

The usual series of benches for such a large gathering of hungry ponies were arrayed outside. Each overflowed with more apples and apple related grub than anywhere else in Equestria, and then, of course, there were the Apples themselves. They’d gathered in a circle at one end of the table and crowded around its presumed occupant. From the direction of her approach, Apple Bloom couldn’t see who was the center of attention.

“What’s all the fuss about?” Apple Bloom asked. “Did Babs turn up or something?”

Apple Cider, one of the few members of the family not compelled or even interested in treating Apple Bloom like a newborn foal, turned from her own conversation to answer the question. “Your sister dragged some fancy city pony here to sample our food for the festival. Think she said something or other about thanking her for something too.”

Ah, must be that Index Code Sweetie Belle went on about. Apple Bloom gave her thanks and found a safe spot at the table where she could eat a quick dinner in peace away from her overly enthusiastic relatives. And sure enough, when she managed a glance down the table, she found nearly every member of the Apple family present trying to feed Sweetie Belle’s new hero more than her own weight in secret Apple family recipes, and nopony was taking no for an answer.

Apple Bloom tried to ignore the problem. It was a dangerous world out there for a filly. But there was nothing else for it. She’d suffered the same fate only a couple days ago, and the hurt was too fresh not to sympathize. She’d passed mostly unnoticed so far, so she quickly stuffed the rest of her own meal into her mouth and then leapt to the rescue.

Once she’d pushed her way through the crowd, Apple Bloom called out, “Excuse me! Miss Index Code, I need to talk to you something urgent.” Ignoring the protestations of the rest of the family, she continued, “I have a message from the mayor.”

Those were the magic words. Index Code leapt onto the excuse with concealed enthusiasm and got the two of them safely out of there. Once they had found a quiet place to speak, she asked, “What does the mayor want?”

“Nothing.” Apple Bloom shrugged. “You just looked like you needed some help.”

The reminder made Index Code visibly force down the urge to retch. Fortunately, she managed to spare both of them from seeing her dinner a second time. “Ugh… I’ve never eaten so much before. Thank you for the help. I was about ready to snap back there. I have no idea how I kept myself under control that long. Anyway, you’re Apple–” She twitched and covered her mouth at the mention of apples.

“You can just call me Bloom for the moment, if you want.”

“Thanks. You can just call me Index as well. It’s what I usually go by.”

“Right, then. Sweetie Belle told me a lot about ya. I’d like to thank you myself for what you did. Uh, you know, rather than torture you.”

Index offered a strained smile.

“I hope you won’t hold what just happened against her. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only pony with a full bale of hay round here, and I’m sure you know how ridiculous that must sound.”

“Eh, even if she’d arranged this, a little overeager hospitality is far from the worst gratitude I’ve ever received. Besides, I don’t often get to meet fillies with real talent in magic. I’m eager to see what she makes of herself. That, and curious what particular form her cutie mark will take with all the fuss you Crusaders raise about it.”

“Huh?” That sounded an awful lot like Index meant – “Sweetie Belle’s supposed to get a cutie mark in magic?”

“Nopony is supposed to get anything. Does the pony cause the cutie mark, or does the cutie mark cause the pony? Is it choice, or is it destiny? You can debate the philosophy of it, but there’s no practical distinction. A pony gets the cutie mark best suited to them. It may not be what they want or expect at the time, but it does express a core, unchanging facet of who they are. Cutie mark dysphoria is rare for a reason, after all, and usually quickly resolved. The worst case I’ve ever seen was Starlight Glimmer. She collected ponies suffering as she did and made everything worse. What a mess that was. Turned out she just missed her friend and wanted something to blame.”

Apple Bloom blinked. “Right…”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry. I recently discovered a deeper aspect of meaning to my cutie mark which I’m unsure how to feel about, so I’ve been thinking about the subject perhaps a bit too much. The point is, with a little self-reflection, it’s usually not too hard to figure out what your cutie mark will be.”

“What!” Apple Bloom stomped her hoof hard on the ground. “My sister keeps telling me I’ll get it when I get it, but you’re telling me all this time she could’ve just told me what I need to do to get it?”

“Well…sort of. I more or less knew what mine was years before it finally appeared. I could likely guess yours myself from the stories I’ve heard.”

Apple Bloom opened her mouth.

“But,” Index continued, “that’s for you to discover.”

“Oh, come on!” Apple Bloom protested. “I’m way too old to be a blank flank.”

It was far too obvious that Index found this all amusing. “Trust me. It’s for the best. The actual biomagical process that makes your cutie mark appear has a psychological trigger. You don’t want to know what I had to do to get mine.”

“You’re just like everypony else! No help at all!”

Index smirked. “Have I not been?”

“No!”

And Index just laughed. “At any rate, you don’t need to have a cutie mark in something to be good at it, nor does having a cutie mark in something mean you’ll be the best at it. You should probably share that little tidbit with the rest of the Crusaders.” She eyed the path back toward where the family had gathered for dinner. No shortage of inquisitive, impatient, or inviting looks were sent her way. “I’m going to get going while the coast is clear. I’ll see you another time, Bloom.”

Running off at a fast trot, not doing a particularly good job of pretending to be anything other than fleeing, Index left down the road back to Ponyville proper. She beat an odd path along the way. While much of it could be ascribed to a sore, bloated stomach, Apple Bloom suspected it had just as much to do with keeping herself out of line of sight as much as possible.

Then, with a start, Apple Bloom realized that she needed to disappear as well. Everypony was going to want to tan her hide when they found out she’d let Index escape before sampling their own special family recipe. And worse, once that was done, all of their attention would be back on her.

Twilight,

Please understand that I love you and respect you when I write this, but you can come home anytime. You have, so far, saved a filly, commented on the state of the nation, captured a criminal(?), read a book, commissioned your next gala dress, and composed a lengthy scientific document. I thought you said you were going to make friends.

On that note, however, congratulations on befriending a pinkius pieicus. I thought they went extinct during the great sugar shortage of 887. So many cakes never baked…

On a more serious note, I know of only a few very, very minor time magics, none of which approach the distressing magnitude of what you described. They all involve moving backward in time in a very limited manner, not forward. But then one direction is much the same as the other when it comes to closed time loops. Naturally, none of these spells are available to the public. They’re in my personal collection if you need them.

Moon Dancer and I have been getting along well. She finds the work we gave her as tedious as you do, but she has been very helpful. Our preparations at the Old Castle are coming along apace as well. Having a second horn go over the changes you made has proven invaluable.

I am distinctly unsurprised to learn Queen Chrysalis hid the existence of her hive’s princess from us. I assumed she had at least one but never considered it a matter worth pressing. I wonder if my conversation with her led to this reveal.

As for Sunset Shimmer…

You know me too well for euphemistic rhetoric. You are, of course, correct to assume that I groomed her to bear Magic before you. The mistake I made with you was in my desire to keep you close. The mistake I made with her was in my desire to keep my distance. She wanted more from me than I allowed myself to give. In hindsight, I fear I may have sent some mixed messages. The details are private and best consigned to the past. It suffices to say our falling out made me confront how little I’d changed since I drove Luna to madness.

As pertains to your quest, Sunset stole Luna’s crown. Regardless of how this conflict ends, it must be returned to the diarchy’s possession.

P.S. If you could donate some of your winnings to the treasury, Cadance has a delightful project she wanted to start up that needs initial capital to get off the ground.

Index had just escaped from the Feast of a Thousand Apples – she was going to have nightmares about that, she was sure – when Celestia’s reply to her letter crackled into existence in a burst of fire. The flame sending spell was ever so useful. Every unicorn should know the pony adaptation of that little bit of dragon magic, but sadly, so few bothered to learn it.

As she unsealed her letter, Index said, Let’s see what we have here… She harrumphed at the first remark and then frowned over the next. If even Celestia had never run into somepony like Pinkie Pie before, then the mare was a true aberration. “I swear, if she turns out to be her own mother or something…”

With a shake of her head, Index continued reading. It was good to hear Celestia was getting on well with Moon Dancer. But when she came to the section on Sunset, she gaped. The moment she recovered her ability to speak, a storm of obscenities forced their way past her lips. Sunset stole Luna’s crown! She had so many questions. How did Sunset do it? Why did she do it? How did she even know about it, let alone find it? Did anypony else know about it? How on Equus had Celestia even let this happen in the first place? It was the crown of a diarch of Equestria! If anypony found out about this, they’d be a laughingstock in the very best case scenario.

Index pressed both of her forehooves into her face in a vain attempt to make the nightmare go away. Why does everything get worse every single day? Discord is going to break free before this is over. I just know it.

As the letter contained nothing she needed to keep on record, Index burnt it to ashes and vanished the remains for good measure. She breathed deep and pushed the matter of Sunset from her mind for now. She could pop off to go say hello and maybe settle things peacefully later when she had a better handle on her primary quest.

Index’s next stop after the Apple family diversion was Lyra. She pulled her saddlebags from her bag of holding and, under the assumption that Bon Bon would be home as well, stuffed the Elements of Harmony inside them. Bon Bon easily qualified as tolerable and seemed like a good pony. If she could bond with an Element, that would make Index’s life all the easier.

She really needed something to be easy right now.

Sweet Apple Acres was aptly named thus. Since Index had little inclination to walk a quarter of its entire breadth again, she teleported most of the way back to town. From there, it was only a short distance to Bon Bon and Lyra’s house. Here’s hoping something goes right for once. Index knocked on the front door. At most half a minute later, Bon Bon opened it.

“Oh, good.” For some reason, Bon Bon wore a weary look about her as though she’d just escaped from Tartarus. “You’re here for Lyra, right?”

“Yes, actually. How did you know?” As far as Index could recall, she and Lyra had arranged no particular time for her return.

Bon Bon heaved a long sigh. “She told me to let her know as soon as you arrived. She’s locked herself in the master bathroom for four hours now. Apparently, she needs your help with ‘unicorn stuff’.”

“Unicorn stuff? What–” It occurred to Index then that she might have gotten a little distracted multiple times today. The magic sustaining the polymorph she’d cast on Lyra must have run out and reverted her back into seapony form. “Ahhhh,” she said, feigning more realization than she felt. “Sounds serious. I’ll just go check on her, then.”

Bon Bon let out another sigh. “Upstairs. Take a left. It should be the only door that’s closed.” And with that, she wandered off with a despondent air lingering about her like a storm cloud, head hung low.

Index made a note to check up on that once she was done with the seapony in the bathroom. She couldn’t keep the smirk off her face at that mental image. This was going to be fun. Up the stairs and down the hall, she found the door Bon Bon had described. She casually unlocked it with a bit of magic and, after applying a few minor privacy spells, walked right in.

As expected, the entire room was a mess. There were puddles of water scattered across the floor which hadn’t yet been able to evaporate. Treacherous soaps lay in wait for the unwary hoof. One lonely towel, well past the limit of its absorption, sat in a clump against a wall. Lyra the seapony floated in the bathtub in the midst of it all looking very put out and equally uncomfortable.

“Fix this. Now.”

“Such hostility. I wonder if I should.”

Lyra winced, likely from having tried to summon up her magic, and muttered a curse under her breath. “Now!”

“Is that how you ask for favors?”

A wave of water flung itself from the tub toward Index under the direction of Lyra’s powerful tail fin, but she just redirected it back toward its source.

“I don’t know your customs well, but that didn’t sound like a please.”

It was bitter and through narrowed eyes, but Lyra did bite out a muttered, “Please.”

“Oh, all right.” A quick flash of magic later and Lyra was once more a unicorn. “Better?”

Lyra sank lower in the tub with a sense of calm she’d not possessed even a few seconds ago. “Yes. Still mad, though.”

“Well then, I have good news to lift your spirits. I looked into the whole Pinkie Promise thing. I have no idea how it works, but I’m willing to just let it go for the moment and assume the local time mage is creating frivolous closed time loops to enforce them.”

“Time mage?” Lyra echoed. “Pinkie?” After a moment of reflection, she said, “That does make sense, actually.”

Not that it came close to explaining the full scope of Pinkie Pie. But that wasn’t what Index was here to talk about. “So here’s the deal. The princess and the archmage are very busy right now. Until they have time to sort out your situation, if you promise to obey Equestrian law to the best of your ability, neither take nor encourage another’s actions to impede your ability to do so, and keep yourself available for a summons, I’ll remove the suppressors on your horn.”

“Fine, whatever. It’s not like I was planning anything anyway.” Lyra ran through the motions of the Pinkie Promise.

As soon as Lyra finished, Index pulled out her notes on Pinkie Pie and began another entry.

“What are you doing?”

“Recording experimental data,” Index idly replied. “I expected a vengeful Pinkie Pie to be shouting retribution on her way here by now. You’re breaking Equestrian law, after all.”

Lyra’s eyes widened as she threw herself against the walls of her tub and tried to hide. “What am I doing wrong?”

“Illegal immigration. And probably a few property law violations. Your wards extend past the land Bon Bon owns, and I highly doubt you asked her permission to place them.”

“I…” Lyra had no defense against that.

“Interesting,” Index mumbled as she wrote. This was a tainted experiment, of course. She’d chosen a wording which would allow Lyra to stumble over obscure laws nopony remembered or cared about. But still, she could call this weak evidence that Pinkie Promises didn’t operate under the subjective truth of the pony who made them. Or if they did, then there was more nuance to them.

Index exchanged her notes for a folded slip of paper from her saddlebags. “Your visa.” Glancing around, she found somewhere dry and out of the way to deposit it.

“My visa?” A moment later, Lyra understood what had just happened. “Will you stop jerking me around!”

Eyes narrowing, Index snorted. “You put a hole through my–” She forced herself to bite her tongue. “–boss and friend. What do you expect?” With a huff that she swore found its way into her magic, she reached out and removed the suppressors from Lyra’s horn. “I’ll be downstairs with Bon Bon. You’ll need to remove or modify your wards as soon as reasonably possible.”

As Index left the bathroom behind, she tore down the privacy spells she’d placed upon it. She made her way to the living room where she found Bon Bon pacing back and forth and mumbling voicelessly to herself, seemingly locked in some internal debate.

“It’s okay, Bon Bon,” Index said. “Our tryst is over.”

Bon Bon faked a cough and, with an obvious blush, averted her eyes. “That’s not what’s bothering me.” She hesitated, reluctant, but ultimately asked, “What was keeping Lyra in the bathroom?”

“A lack of legs.”

The bemused look Bon Bon gave Index said everything for her.

“She stumbled over some poison joke earlier and turned into a seapony once the magic took hold. The nasty, psychopathic kind. I brewed an antidote for her.”

A few moments passed in silence as Bon Bon absorbed the explanation, one which offered a ready excuse in case Lyra ever blew her cover in the future. Index wondered why she hadn’t just told her marefriend something to that effect instead of acting so suspiciously and inviting the imagination to speculate over what secrets she could be hiding. Misdirection and half-truths were almost always easier to maintain than outright lies.

“Oh,” Bon Bon finally responded. “She’s already cured, then?”

Nodding, Index replied, “She’ll be down soon.”

“How unfortunate. I would have loved to see her as a seapony.” Bon Bon sighed at the missed opportunity. “Thank you for helping her. Lyra can be a bit…strange at times, but she’s a good pony.”

It may have just been her, but Index swore she’d heard a hint of emphasis on the last word.

“Would you care to stay for dinner?” Bon Bon continued.

Barely controlling her gag reflex, Index answered, “No thanks. I’ve already eaten.” Although she refused Bon Bon’s offer, she lifted her saddlebags off her back and laid them on the table. They ‘accidentally’ fell open, and an Element rolled out.

With a curious gaze far removed from the one Moon Dancer had previously displayed toward Magic, Bon Bon asked, “What’s that?” She tilted her head to better read the label. “Laughter?”

“I have no idea,” Index replied with a bit of indulgent exasperation. “Pinkie Pie gave five of them to me earlier and told me to carry them around. No explanation.” She rolled out the other four and, to her own surprise, found herself a little disappointed when Bon Bon didn’t react to any of them.

Sigh… With how wrong everything has been going, I don’t know why I expected this to be any different.

“Can I take a closer look?”

Index gestured for Bon Bon to go ahead with a hoof and fell into a chair. Maybe she would get lucky. Maybe Bon Bon just had enough mental fortitude to resist the call without displaying symptoms. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to let her run her hooves over them.

Taking the closest sphere, Bon Bon held it up to the light and looked inside it from every angle she could find. She went through each one, until she came to the last one, Honesty.

“So weird,” Bon Bon said. “I mean, this makes total sense for Pinkie in how little sense it makes, but I have no idea why anypony would want to make a set of orbs with a gemstone inside each.”

Meanwhile, Lyra had come downstairs and entered the room. “Hey, Bon Bon–”

Index whirled toward Lyra. That was the wrong tone of voice.

“–can I see that?”

Stunned, surprised, Index stood rooted to the ground as Lyra didn’t wait for permission. Her magic enveloped the Element and brought it over to her. The moment her hoof touched it, the same blinding light which had come from Magic’s awakening emanated from Honesty’s. When the process finished, a golden necklace lay draped over her hoof with an orange gem cut in the shape of a lyre inset as its centerpiece.

No.

“No.” Index said.

“No!” Twilight shouted.

“No.” Twilight screamed in the Royal Canterlot Voice.

Twilight teleported away, taking the remaining Elements with her.

Author's Notes:

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Revision Notes - July 10th (2020)

Chapter Seven - From Bad to Worse

“So this is where you always disappear to.” After a few curious glances and a little poking around the lab, it came time to ask the all-important question. “Why have you brought me here?”

Lyra stared at the necklace draped over her hoof. There was something absolutely wonderful about it, but she had no idea what. Aside from its odd origin, it looked and felt like an ordinary necklace, albeit one with her cutie mark expertly crafted and inset into it. Presumably, Index could tell her more about it, but that vindictive mare had teleported away in a fit.

Just a few steps away, Bon Bon, usually so unflappable even during Ponyville’s regular weekly crisis, had grown visibly agitated. Lyra wanted to ask what had her in such a mood, but her eyes drifted back to the necklace hanging from her hoof. She knew perfectly well not to put on magical artifacts without knowing what they did, especially ones which touched the mind, but common sense had deserted her. After a quick check to see how the clasp worked, she affixed it around her neck.

In an instant, Lyra’s mind cleared of the haze the necklace had put her under. She reeled upon realization of what had happened, but when she went to take the necklace off, she just couldn’t quite summon up the will to follow through. It was hers. She would not be parted from it. But that just magnified the cognitive dissonance running through her head. She’d never encountered something with even half as strong an effect on her during her tenure as the master of waters. Why in the deep depths had Index been carrying around something like this?

Lyra breathed out a long, calming breath, determined not to make herself overwrought. The necklace didn’t seem to be having any negative effects on her other than the overwhelming captivation to retain possession of it. She felt fine. It wasn’t siphoning her magic. In fact, she felt a little stronger, magic leaping slightly more readily to her call. It felt somewhat like the warm, tingly sensation horned species got when drawing power from external sources of magic. Perhaps wearing the necklace until Index returned and pried it from her cold dead hooves would be fine.

Lyra blinked. I need to get the possessiveness this thing induces under control.

But that could wait. Lyra had an anxious marefriend to soothe. She approached slowly and wraped a gentle arm around Bon Bon’s, pulling her into a nuzzle. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I…” That look in her eyes. Bon Bon wanted to say whatever was on her mind, but something held her back. “It’s nothing.”

A strange feeling surged through Lyra, more of a prickle than a tingle but with no discernible source nor target. It had to be something the necklace did, but what was the trigger and purpose?

“What about you?” Bon Bon deflected. “How are you feeling?”

There was the concerning matter of the necklace, but her personally? Now that she was a unicorn again, she had nothing a complain about. “Fine. Why?”

“Well, you did just spend multiple hours trapped in a bathtub as a seapony.”

Lyra drew in a hiss of breath. “Index told you, didn’t she?” And here she’d thought the mare had some decency in her.

“Oh, go easy on her,” Bon Bon said with a roll of her eyes. “It’s really not that embarrassing. We live in Ponyville. Everypony eventually stumbles over some stray poison joke.”

What? “Poison joke?” What in the unspeakable names of the abyss was that?

“Blue flower? Grows around the Everfree? About…yea high?” Bon Bon held a hoof up just above knee height. “It’s easy to miss if you’re not watching where you’re going. It has a different effect on everypony. Do you remember Pinkie walking through town with a ridiculous, shaggy coat?”

Now that Bon Bon mentioned it, Lyra did. That’d been years ago. She’d written it off as just another one of Pinkie’s antics. “Oh. I think Index used the scientific name for it when she explained what happened to me.”

There came that prickling again. It didn’t hurt. It just felt…indescribably weird for having experienced it only twice.

“That was odd,” Lyra mumbled to herself.

“Well, of course it was odd. It’s poison joke. It always does something strange. So what was being a seapony like?”

“I’d really rather not talk about it,” Lyra replied. That part of her life was over for good so long as she could convince the archmage to let her stay. Then rather sheepishly, knowing she hadn’t exactly been the easiest pony to be around, relatively speaking, for much of the day, she asked, “Is there any dinner left for me?”

“No.”

The prickling sensation occurred once more, although less intensely than before. Or perhaps it had a different grain?

“Oh. Okay.” Lyra couldn’t complain considering how she’d been today. “I guess I’ll just whip up something quick for myself.”

Bon Bon rolled her eyes. “You look like a kicked puppy.” She ran a hoof up Lyra’s neck until it came to a rest on a cheek. Then tilting Lyra’s head up, she moved in for a quick kiss. “While you’re at it, make extra for me. I haven’t eaten either.”

“You waited?” Lyra said with a silly grin on her face. “You shouldn’t have.”

No denial came from Bon Bon. She said, “Probably not, but eating alone is no fun.”

And again the prickling reared its mildly annoying head. It was the lesser variation as it had been last time. Was the magic causing it running out? The necklace’s tingling didn’t feel any different.

“Is something wrong?”

Lyra furrowed her brows. “I don’t know. This necklace is doing something, and I’m not sure what.”

“It’s probably nothing to worry about. Index said she got the, well, necklace, I guess, from Pinkie, and you know she attracts wacky, disruptive nonsense, not dangerous things.”

There was that lesser prickle again.

It was then that Lyra noticed a little slip of thin paper stuck under her hoof. When she levitated it up off the floor, it had only a single word written on it: Honesty. All at once, she understood and grinned.

“Two plus two equals three.”

The full force of the prickling met that statement.

“I have a pink coat.”

Another wave came.

“Princess Celestia is my mother.”

And another.

“I can play the lyre.”

This time no prickling bothered her.

“Lyra, what–”

“Who was your first crush?”

Bemused and a little annoyed at being interrupted, Bon Bon said, “Why on Equus are you asking me that right now?”

Because I’ve always suspected you lied about it. Of course, Lyra didn’t say that aloud. She instead went with, “I’m testing something. Just answer.”

Bon Bon sighed but did do as asked. “Octavia, as you well know.”

While Lyra had never doubted that her marefriend had a thing for musicians, the prickling told another story. Bon Bon had an embarrassing secret first crush! Oh, it was going to be such fun wheedling that information out of her. But for now, she had more experiments to perform.

“What’s your name?”

“What’s with all the questions?”

“Come on, Bon Bon. Please?” Lyra bent a little at the knees to make herself shorter than Bon Bon and adopted the cutest little pout. The tactic proved effective.

“Oh, very well. It’s Bon Bon.”

Lyra’s mood immediately cooled as she felt the lesser prickle again. “Is Bon Bon a nickname?” If so, why had it taken a magical necklace she was fairly certain could detect half-truths and lies for her to find out?

“Of course not,” Not Bon Bon replied. The lack of prickling to her words meant they were the truth, yet on the other hoof, her name wasn’t Bon Bon. But it’d been a lesser prickle when she’d said it was, so it also wasn’t not Bon Bon. What did that mean?

Now cautious, Lyra asked, “How long have you been together with me?”

“Five years.”

Relief swept through Lyra when her shiny new trinket had no reaction. Whatever was going on here, she at least had the right mare in her life. That would be enough to get them through anything. But before she pried too deeply into her marefriend’s secrets, it was only right to give Not Bon Bon fair warning lest this come back to buck her in the rear.

“All right, I know what this necklace does now. It lets me know when ponies lie or mislead.”

Not Bon Bon made a valiant effort, Lyra was sure, but her face paled beneath her creamy coat.

“So…we should probably talk.”

“I love you,” Not Bon Bon blurted out.

As the necklace didn’t react in the slightest, Lyra didn’t have to wonder in the slightest and easily replied, “I love you too.” Not to her surprise but certainly worth heeding, the necklace also approved of her declaration of affections. “Do you want to tell me what was bothering you after Index left, because it was not nothing?”

“I…” Not Bon Bon’s eyes shifted around the room. “Oh, Celestia, there are regulations for this sort of situation, but I have no idea what they are. The archmage stuffed the book with a bunch of nonsense years ago that nopony ever reads.”

That was, Lyra noted, all true.

“I think any explanation will have to wait until I get my instructions in order. If I’m right, that” – Not Bon Bon thrust a hoof at the necklace – “is way above my pay grade. Like we should expect the archmage or the princess herself to be knocking on our door soon above.”

Oh, that’s not good. The archmage was already unhappy with Lyra, and her faithful minion had just stormed off in anger over this. How doomed am I compared to how doomed I’d be for breaking a Pinkie Promise? Rather reluctantly, Lyra decided she’d probably be best off facing the archmage’s displeasure.

Not Bon Bon eyed the necklace warily. “Could you please take that thing off so I don’t have to watch everything I say?”

A hesitant spark of Lyra’s golden magic found the necklace’s clasp. She played with it, flicking it open and shut, as she gnawed on her lip. She should take it off. It’d only be polite, and she still had no idea what negative side effects the artifact might have beyond the obvious.

“Uh, Not Bon Bon–”

The mare in question facehoofed. “Please just refer to me as you usually do. I like being Bon Bon.” She leveled a significant look at Lyra. “You of all unicorns can understand that, can’t you?”

Uneasy laughter escaped Lyra. “Yeah… Um… So you…”

Rather than listen to Lyra’s failed attempts to ask what Bon Bon meant by that remark, she swept forward and pulled Lyra into a slow, passionate kiss. When it ended, she whispered, “Necklace off, love.”

Lyra, dazed, said, “Sure.”

A few seconds of blissful floating later, Bon Bon arched her eyebrows.

“Oh. Right.” Lyra summoned up her magic to try to remove the necklace again but found no more success than she had before. “This – this isn’t as easy as it looks. Could you do it for me?”

Bon Bon rolled her eyes but spun a hoof in a small circle. Lyra took the hint and turned around for her. When her hooves touched the necklace, however, Lyra took a hasty step forward away from them.

“What are you doing?” Bon Bon asked, her displeasure leaking into her tone.

The very next moment, Bon Bon’s earlier words proved prophetic. Rather than knocking on their door, however, the archmage herself teleported directly into their living room. “Trouble rather the dragon in his lair than part the Element from its mare.” She tilted her head from side to side in judgment of her own words. “Not quite a perfect adaptation of the idiom, but it gets the point across. Tearing myself away from my own Element was…an ordeal. A necessary one in my case whose end I greatly look forward to.”

The archmage sighed and took a seat uninvited. “Honesty is yours for life. The compulsion to keep it close is, as I’m sure you’ve already noticed, extraordinarily powerful. The longer you’re parted, the…well, not easier but more bearable its call becomes. The good news, however, is the Elements of Harmony are otherwise fully benign.” She summoned a scroll from nowhere and passed it off to a speechless Lyra. “That covers all of the known details about the Element of Honesty along with a basic primer on the rest of the Elements. Questions?”

Lyra had far too many to count.

Bon Bon found her voice first. “Your Excellency, could I have a private word?”

Although she seemed unsure where the request had come from, the archmage obliged and teleported herself and Bon Bon elsewhere. Lyra, left alone with nothing better to do, sat down and read through the scroll the archmage had given her. She’d already determined Honesty’s primary power, but the miniature manual therein contained fine details about its effective range and some musings on the limits of its powers and how to deceive its ability to perceive subjective truth. Additionally, all of the Elements provided a mild power boost and could be summoned from anywhere, even from behind wards, by their bearer.

It wasn’t that engaging of a read, but it did keep Lyra’s mind off of the fact that Bon Bon had all but confessed to having known what she was for depths knew how long.

Teleportation was something nopony should ever get used to. The archmage’s rendition proved far more pleasant than Sweetie Drops had suffered before, but she still stumbled upon arrival. When she regained her bearing enough to look around, she found that they were now, oddly enough, in Pinkie’s room at Sugarcube Corner. But then she did recall that this was where Index, who worked directly under the archmage, was staying, so perhaps…

“Oh,” Sweetie Drops said in realization. “Index Code isn’t real, is she?”

Although the surprise showed clearly on her face, the archmage took the question in stride. “It depends on what you consider real. She has her own persona, history, and even legal documentation. She lives as much in the memory of the ponies who she’s interacted with as any other. But yes, she’s one of the many identities Celestia and I adopt when we want to pass unnoticed.”

Sweetie Drops took the hint and promised not to say anything to anypony other than Lyra, who they both agreed would know something was up sooner or later with the Element of Honesty around her neck. It hadn’t, after all, taken even half an hour for Lyra to discover that her marefriend wasn’t exactly who she claimed to be.

And on that note, Sweetie Drops said, “I take it you don’t recognize me.”

“I distinctly recall asking if you did any government work,” Archmage Twilight replied, “but beyond a vague sense of familiarity, no, I don’t. Who are you?”

“Former Special Agent Sweetie Drops, now the head of the Anti-Monster Division, Your Excellency.”

The archmage’s eyes widened. “Of course,” she said with a distinctly self-recriminating tone. “We’ve not had a formal introduction yet, have we?”

“My appointment was relatively recent.”

“Well, that makes this much less embarrassing,” Archmage Twilight replied with a sheepish smile. It vanished soon after. “How curious. Why is it that neither Princess Celestia nor I were ever made aware of Lyra’s presence here?”

Sweetie Drops gulped. This was her boss’s boss, the very top of the chain of command besides the princess, and Princess Celestia only rarely involved herself with the EIS these days. The archmage could ruin her on a whim – if she was worth the bother, knowing what the archmage was like – and it wasn’t even just her flank on the line.

“It’s a long story, ma’am.”

The hard look the archmage returned said she had plenty of time.

Nervous, Sweetie Drops recounted her tale. “I found Lyra performing in the lower districts of Canterlot.” They both decoded that as the polite term for the slums which had cropped up on the mountainside technically beyond city limits. “We hit it off and became fast friends. I invited her to move in with me, and, well, roommates learn a lot about each other without ever saying a word. It was a bunch of little things which clued me in. Lyra easily passed as a unicorn even then and has gotten better since, but once in a while, she’d say or do something which most ponies passed off as just Lyra being Lyra like we do with Pinkie.

“When I put together the pieces and realized she was a seapony, I wanted to have my cake and eat it too. I made a few quiet inquiries with Immigration Services first to check if she was here legally. She wasn’t, so I called in a few favors” – dozens, really – “to get her classified as a monster under my division’s jurisdiction. And to get me assigned as her watcher, obviously.”

“Obviously,” the archmage echoed flatly.

Sweetie Drops cringed but continued on. “Lyra has never hurt anypony–”

The stony expression the archmage wore twitched into a frown before returning to a blank mask.

What did she do? Sweetie Drops screamed in her head. Outwardly, she carried on as if nothing had happened. “–so I’ve never needed to act. When our feelings for each other took a decidedly romantic turn, I did the right thing and went to the then head of my division. I told him I was too emotionally compromised to do my job. He and I went to speak with Director Incog. It was…” No other moment in her life had ever been filled with such a deluge of shame, betrayal, regret, and yet determination despite all that to keep bending the rules to protect her lover. “–a long night. In the end, Incog gave me the go ahead to date Lyra with the understanding that I’d be personally accountable for everything she did.”

That was the end of the story, but the archmage clearly was waiting for something more.

“And we’ve been happy together ever since.”

Archmage Twilight tapped her hoof impatiently. “And?”

“And…” Sweetie Drops cast her mind out for what she could have forgotten, but nothing important came to mind.

“Unbelievable,” the archmage said. “You never performed a background check. This is why we have rules and regulations. You have no idea who Lyra is, do you?”

Unfortunately, all Sweetie Drops could do was shake her head.

Archmage Twilight, despite her furious snort and the stomp of her hoof, didn’t immediately pronounce judgment. Indeed, she took to pacing back and forth muttering little snippets to the effect of, “It wasn’t supposed to be this complicated,” to herself. At the end of one, she spun on Sweetie Drops and asked, “Given your position, am I right to assume you’ve been briefed on the Nightmare Moon situation?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She hesitated a moment and then asked, “The Element of Honesty is part of the plan to defeat her, isn’t it?”

“Indeed. The Elements of Harmony can strike her down. There’s six in total, they run off of the literal power of friendship, and they bind themselves to their bearers for life.”

Sweetie Drops opened her mouth, but she found herself without words.

“Yes, that was my reaction as well. So good news for you and Lyra, I suppose. She’s become an invaluable asset to Equestria overnight, so she gets to stay. By all rights, I should tear the EIS apart over this scandal, but I can’t have one of my mandatory new best friends preoccupied with her beloved crying in her hooves over the mean archmage enforcing the law.”

“I… I’m sorry for putting you in this position.” Sweetie Drops couldn’t think of anything else to say.

The archmage visibly bit back whatever response first leapt to her tongue. Instead, she went with, “If this ever gets out, I expect you and Lyra to be in such mad, disgustingly sappy bliss with each other that we can sell this as the story of two star-crossed lovers.”

Relief surged through every inch of Sweetie Drops’s frame from her head down to her hooves. “We can do that.” It wouldn’t even be a challenge.

“Good. Now I need to go cool off before I blow something up. Brief Lyra on the situation for me. Feel free to tell her anything pertinent about yourself and your work.”

The archmage’s horn lit up, and Sweetie Drops found herself back in her home before she could even raise a word in question. Lyra was still there, idly reading through the scroll the archmage had given her.

“You’re back!” Lyra rose with a smile on her face but then looked around nervously. “Uh, where’s you know who?”

“She left.” Bon Bon moved forward to nuzzle her love. “Why don’t we sit down. We have a lot to talk about.”

After a rapid fire series of teleports, Twilight appeared high above the clouds in the Frozen North. She had done her duty for the day. It was time and past time to take some personal time away from the town seemingly engineered specifically to drive her insane. If she didn’t, she might just join Luna in the evil alter ego club. She could call herself Eternal Twilight. That sounded like a nice compromise. There’d be enough sunlight that way to not freeze the world without compromising the endless night shtick by actually raising the sun.

But then maybe Nightmare Moon wouldn’t go for even that. Perhaps a better villain name would be Midnight Sparkle. It had a stronger night motif, invoked every sinister connotation associated with midnight, and carried a certain level of class. Moreover, she didn’t really like the thematic idea of being the bridge between the royal sisters. She hardly wished to play mediator for them for the rest of time.

When Twilight realized she’d spent the last few minutes of her journey contemplating her hypothetical evil image, she rolled her eyes at where her mind had wandered to. She needed her own evil plan before she could decide on a villain name. Anything else would just be putting the cart before the pony.

Twilight chuckled as she teleported into her laboratory. Two years ago, she’d scoured the tundra for an underground cavern to repurpose. “Security through obscurity!” she’d cried. The one she’d set up shop in had been the best mix of spacious and stable to serve as a starting point. She’d then spent a few weeks sculpting the natural formation into a state-of-the-art research facility where she could conduct her more dangerous magical experiments. Between the ambient enchanted lighting, the smooth floors and walls, the doors, and the lab equipment, a pony would be hard pressed to believe the place had once featured dripping water, pitch black darkness, stalactites and stalagmites, and an utter lack of breathable air.

The test chamber was the largest room in the complex, placed a full kilometer away from the main lab. It was designed to take any abuse Twilight could subject it to without endangering all of her other work. Along that line of reasoning, only a narrow hallway secured with multiple blast doors connected the two locations as a safety measure in case teleportation should fail for some reason.

It also had a ward scheme better meant for withstanding a siege than scientific rigor. She’d never even come close to overwhelming them after her initial stress test, but someday, she knew, she’d be glad to have installed them. Sure, they were a huge sink on the ambient magic in the area, but it wasn’t like there was anypony else around to complain in this frozen wasteland. Besides, it was the consensus amongst magical scholars that, in addition to the excess magic most creatures radiated into the world’s ambient magic, Equus itself continually produced magic at a scale where civilization would have to go out of its way to deliberately deplete it.

After a quick check to make sure all of the protections were still working as intended, Twilight changed the destination of the emergency teleport system from her tower in Canterlot to Pinkie Pie’s room in Ponyville. It was approximately the same distance, the system had more than enough power stored up, and in the off chance she needed it, she would find help more readily there than in her empty tower.

Twilight lastly polymorphed into Index’s form. Even Pinkie Pie would have a hard time explaining why the archmage suddenly appeared in her room if she had company and if Twilight triggered her emergency teleport. Beyond that, while she doubted she would – or rather could – cause herself any physical harm with the long overdue experiment she wanted to perform, it was always best to have a buffer in place when doing something dangerous.

Now fully prepared, Twilight spoke aloud knowing the room would automatically transcribe every word.

“Before we begin, I would like to state for the record that I am breaking from my prior caution with the following experiment largely because I’ve been having a really stressful week. I desperately need something to go right. If I end up killing myself and some future ambitious pony finds this recording, know that the principle behind the experiment itself is not unsound, only the pony conducting it. If this is Celestia or a member of my family listening, I’ll point out that I’ve written personalized apology letters to each of you. You can find them locked in my desk drawer in the library here.”

With the usual formalities out of the way, Twilight set to her task in earnest.

“The dual nature of ponies is well known and not in dispute. We are at once both flesh and magic. However, conventional wisdom holds that while flesh is mutable, magic is not. This is obviously nonsense. A pony’s magic grows and expands with use and age. Indeed, if our magic were not mutable, then no pony would ever die of magical failure.

“There is a distinction to be made here for the sake of clarity between a pony’s magic and the ordinary magic it generates for spellcasting. There are many informal terms for the former across cultures and disciplines: wellspring, magical core, sea of chi, et cetera. In the absence of a universal scientific term, we will simply use the term magic and let context determine the usage.”

Twilight reached out with her magic to her storage room and teleported a block of solidified magic back to her.

“Just before the Discordian Era at the height of pony civilization, Star Swirl delved into the study of magic modification. By good fortune, what remained of his research notes was discovered during the Key of Unfettered Entrance Incident.” By Twilight herself, of course. “Using them as a jumping off point, we’ve recreated and improved upon the magics involved. The original spells, as we believe them to have been, we suspect would have produced unstable results.

“The goal of this first experiment will be to expand the magical capacity of the test subject, Twilight Sparkle.” She cast a spell to continuously scan and record her biomagical vital statistics for later analysis. “As all signs show she is in good health, we will now begin.”

This was the moment of truth. Twilight lit her horn and latched onto the solidified magic at her hooves. This was no minor spell she was about to attempt, and part of it involved stuffing herself full of more magic than she could currently hold to ensure it stuck. That, by its very nature, required her to utilize an external power source.

With extreme precision, Twilight began constructing her spell. She referenced the spell diagrams she’d created, weaving her magic with pedantic care according to their instructions. There was no room for error here. She was, after all, about to perform surgery on herself, which was exactly as bad of an idea as it sounded like, but she wasn’t about to let anypony else do it for her. The only pony who she trusted and whose magical abilities she trusted enough was Celestia, and that would inevitably open a whole can of worms they didn’t have time for right now.

After a half hour of continuous effort and rigorous double, triple, and even quadruple checking her work, Twilight held her spell ready to cast. This was, far and away, the single most complex piece of sorcery she’d ever attempted. All it took to set it off now was a flux of power so simple a foal could do it.

All right, Twilight. You’ve not yet hit your natural limit. You’re nowhere near your theoretical limit. You’re not challenging the density barrier Celestia has somehow overcome. You’re going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine.

Twilight triggered the spell. It went to work not in a blaze of glory but with the quiet efficiency with which it’d been designed. She didn’t resist as it pulled, and stretched, and filled her in ways few if any ponies ever had been before. The spell and strange sensations ended almost as quickly and without spectacle as they’d begun. If indeed Ponish had the vocabulary to describe the experience in anything but a crude approximation, she’d not had the time necessary to discover the words.

“Well.”

Left with a vaguely off sensation, Twilight swayed in place and just tried to make sense of what she’d gone through. It perhaps should have been a warning sign when she found herself feeling far more than thinking, but instinct took over. The moment she tried to summon up her magic, she knew something was wrong. Her legs went weak and gave out beneath her. She missed a breath. The oncoming rush of adrenaline gave her just enough presence of mind to seek help.

“Fubar!” Twilight cried out.

The test chamber’s emergency teleport activated immediately and whisked Twilight away to Ponyville. As it specified position only, not orientation, it kindly dumped her onto the floor of Pinkie Pie’s room as she’d fallen. Then spotting its stunned resident nearby in bed but not asleep, she gasped out, “Pinkie. Hospital.”

Author's Notes:

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Revision Notes - July 10th (2020)

Chapter Eight - The Dream World

Sudden realization came. It all made sense. Every scrap of research before had addressed the wrong problem!

Twilight was lost in a crowd of huge ponies in Canterlot Square. The clock tower overlooking the plaza said it was a minute after six, but the moon was in the sky. It was still summer, so no matter whether it was morning or evening, the sun should have been out – unless Celestia had clocked out early or something. That happened only very rarely, but it wasn’t unheard of.

Confused, Twilight flapped her wings and flew over the crowd in the hope of determining something about what was going on. Unfortunately, she found nothing of interest, so she turned her flight toward the castle’s front gate. One did not simply fly into the castle without permission, and for some reason, the visual cues which would signify her as friendly had slipped her mind. She’d have to brush up on them later.

Two giant earth ponies guarded the gate. Despite their unusual size, it was business as usual as she approached. They, however, refused to let her pass. Of all the nerve! If they’d had orders from Celestia, perhaps because she wanted Twilight out of the castle during some delicate diplomatic negotiations that didn’t need a snarky archmage, that would be acceptable. But they didn’t!

Thus, heedless to their cries, Twilight glued them to the wall and proceeded forward. When she went to lift the portcullis – why was it down, anyway? – she accidentally put too much strength into her magic. The metal lattice crumpled into a wad where she’d grasped it and jammed in place. At least she had enough room to squeeze through.

She did make a mental note to come back and fix that later once she knew what was going on.

Every single guard Twilight passed as she walked the castle corridors, all of them giants, tried to stop her. They said she’d been kicked out to go find her own country to rule. But as that prospect was about as intriguing as gouging out her own eyes, she pressed on to the throne room while paying no mind to the speed bumps.

Taking a shortcut through the hopefully less guarded gardens, Twilight ran into Spike and Flurry playing some foals’ game. Somehow, although they both had the same body proportions as when she’d last seen them, they’d grown to her own size. Perhaps this was a chance to gain some answers from someone with some actual sense.

“Hey, Spike. Flurry.” Getting only a lukewarm hello in return, once she accepted that there would be a distinct lack of hugs, Twilight asked, “Do you know why the moon is in the sky?”

The two foals looked confused. Spike spoke first. “What is that, some kind of philosophical question? Where else would you put the moon?”

“No, that’s not – I meant why is it out right now?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Flurry asked. “And who are you, anyway?”

Unamused by the feigned lack of recognition, Twilight said, “Twilight Sparkle. Your aunt.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were polymorphed.”

She wasn’t, but just to be sure, Twilight gave herself a once over. Her coat was the same color as usual. When she flicked her head, her mane tossed over her eyes. It felt a lot softer and smoother than usual, she would give them that, and she had sparkles like stars in it now, but the color scheme was normal. The cutie mark on her flank was correct, although her wings did look a little juvenile.

“Oh.” It hit Twilight now that she had wings. “That’s neat. I don’t often experiment with actual pegasus wings. It’s more efficient for me to use other means of flight.” She also, for whatever reason, had reverted to a much younger physical age. That was less amusing, but she shrugged and went with it. “I think I’ll see you two later. I’m going to go give these things a spin.”

Completely forgetting the moon mystery, Twilight left the castle behind with a veritable mob of guards seeing her out the door. As soon as she left, she leapt into the air. Her wings unfurled and lifted her up into the skies above the city.

After some time flying around, immersing herself in the unfamiliar feelings of chilly bursts of wind, thermals, turbulence, and the addicting sensation of airflow beneath her wings, Twilight found herself circling back down to the square where she’d gotten lost earlier. She didn’t have anything better to do right now nor anywhere else to go, so she found a cozy bench to lie down on and let her mind drift.

Some hazy time later, the clock tower called out another hour. Six times it cried before falling silent once more.

Wait, six?

Twilight looked up at the clock tower. It showed that it was a minute after six as the ringing of its bells had suggested. That couldn’t be right. Looking around at the ponies in the crowd, she noticed that none of them had any faces or cutie marks. They were just blotches of color giving off the impression of a pony more than taking the form of one. Thinking back, she couldn’t remember what any of the guards looked like either.

“Oh, I get it. I’m dreaming.” Twilight paused for a few seconds as that sunk in. “I’m dreaming! Ha! I did it! Hello, lucid dream.” Her moment of triumph, however, was cut short. “Now I just need to remember why that was so important.”

Eyes closed, Twilight sat up and rubbed her head with both of her forehooves, moving them in small circles.

“Think, Twilight. Think. I wanted to do something with a lucid dream. It sounded really interesting.”

She rose from the bench and set to pacing. Back and forth she went until she’d worn a groove into the pavement, but it was worth it in the end.

“Eureka! The dream world!” Sitting back down, Twilight put her jaw on a hoof. She knew her goal. Now she just needed to recall how to reach it. So, step one was to ‘calm thyself’. Step two was to…deny the dream? That sounds right. Step three was…no, this is step two and step two was step three. The real step two was to take control of the dream.

Leaping to her hooves, Twilight found a nice cozy spot underneath a tree where she could relax – at least in theory.

“This is so exciting!” Shaking her head, she said, “No, Twilight. There is no excitement. There is only calm. Peace. Serenity.”

Try as she might, no position, no chant, no anything could calm Twilight enough to make more than minor changes to the dream surrounding her. Disappointed, she collapsed onto her back and stared up at the star-filled sky. The real night was beautiful, something she’d never regretted using free time to study, but here in the dream, it was gorgeous. She could see nebulae and brilliant, blazing stars that shone brighter than any in the waking world. Glorious hues of reds and oranges filled the canvas with splashes of light blue and green interweaved.

Perhaps this was what the night sky looked like before Luna’s banishment. Celestia did her best, Twilight was sure, but could she compare to the Alicorn of the Night herself? Surely not.

Realizing that she’d settled down, lost in the stars, Twilight carefully kept her eagerness from building up once more. Instead, she directed her attention to the sky, making little adjustments which only marred perfection. Amusingly, the stars proved playful, moving on their own once she’d begun making changes. The two of them, herself and the stars, descended into a little game on a cosmic scale until the sky became unrecognizable from what it once was. New constellations filled it, and swirling space dust had formed into whirlpools of sparkling light.

With a deep sense of contentment, Twilight closed her eyes.

This is only a dream. An illusion. I want to go to the real realm of dreams. I want to venture inside my own magic to my own personal dreamscape.

Twilight felt a sudden jarring motion. Where once she’d lain peacefully on her back, now her body had repositioned itself to an angled form at the base of a soft, grassy hill. In front of her, a forest of moderately sized trees and ferns with huge leaves ringed the clearing. Trying to stare deeper into the foliage gave Twilight a headache, so she stopped. That had to be the edge of her dream world, as Luna’s book had put it. She could expand it further with effort, but for now, this was what she had to work with.

A feminine, “Oof,” one very far away from the sound of it, met Twilight’s ears, but she paid it no mind for the moment. For all she knew, it could have been her own. More importantly, she remembered everything! Everything that had been so hard to bring to mind in the dream came back to her in crystal clear clarity just as it did in real life.

And then she recalled that she’d left herself in Pinkie Pie’s care. And she’d possibly caused irreversible harm to her magic. And nopony would have any idea how to treat her beyond keeping her physical self hydrated and fed. And she had to hope either Lyra took the initiative to keep her identity hidden or Celestia found out and came to her rescue.

Well. I guess I’m not dead. That was a lower bar than Twilight really wanted to reach for, however. But this dreamscape of hers was supposed to exist inside herself – inside her magic. Nothing immediately leapt out to her as wrong or sickly. Perhaps she would be okay. Eventually. Hopefully before Nightmare Moon returned from banishment.

Decided that there was nothing for it but to wait out the consequences of her actions, Twilight rose to her hooves and investigated her surroundings. It was nice, she supposed, as far as nature went. She preferred her beauty in magic and math, but it could be worse. The initial form the dreamscape took was supposed to represent the pony it belonged to. While it came as no surprise that she was alone, she’d honestly expected something a little…actively hostile.

Glancing up, Twilight found nothing but the cloudless sky painted in a stunning gradient from pink to purple to orange extending below the forest canopy where the sun lingered out of sight below the edge of the world.

A facehoof promptly followed. If my dreamscape is based on a pun, I’m going to have some pointed words for…somepony.

Sighing, Twilight resolved to ascend the hill and get a better view of her entire domain. When she neared its crest, she discovered that she was, in fact, not alone. Luna as she appeared before Nightmare Moon, at least according to her impression of Celestia’s description, strode toward her from approximately the other side of the summit. Luna saw her, too, and raised a wing in greeting.

Something about this felt vaguely familiar, but Twilight paid the feeling no mind. She crossed the remaining distance between her and her actually much taller than expected guest, meeting at the hill’s peak, and spoke first. “All right, what are you doing here? I know I’ve been dreaming of you lately, but this is supposed to be my unspoiled canvas. I better not be subconsciously in love with you or something. We’ve never even met.”

Luna raised an eyebrow, an amused smile playing at her lips. “Not so, although this is the first we’ve had time to speak in peace.” A thoughtful hum emanated from her throat. “But I was so sure you were a unicorn. This does, however, explain much.”

“What are you talking about?”

Luna breathed in sharply. “Has my sister truly hidden this from you? It would be difficult. Exceedingly so. But…not impossible. You poor creature. Do you even know what you are?”

Taking a step back, Twilight instinctively spread her wings in preparation to flee. Not that there was anywhere to – Oh, I still have wings. And I’m still foal-sized. No wonder Luna is so tall. As she saw no need to correct a figment of her imagination, she said, “I believe I asked you a question first. What are you doing here?”

“A fair point. I’ve come to get to know the Archmage of Equestria. We will, after all, be working together for much longer than I expected very soon.”

Twilight blinked and then took a step back to better look up at Luna and take in her full appearance. “Wait. Are you professing to be the real Luna?”

“Who else would I be?” Luna sat to be at a more even height. “Unless there are other dream walking alicorns now?”

“But – but you’re banished!”

“For a grueling nine hundred and ninety-nine years, three seasons, five moons, one week, and a day now.” Underneath the bitterness, a vengeful fire lit Luna’s eyes as she rattled off the date without hesitation. She’d been counting, clearly, whether up or down. “I’ve been slipping my chains during my millennial respite as best as I can. It is not as easy as it once was, but I get by. I apologize for the sour influences I’ve had on your dreams lately. My attempts to bring you into your dreamscape were much less successful than your own. Congratulations, by the way. The first time is the hardest by far.”

Twilight fumbled for words and ultimately only managed a simple, “Thanks. Your book helped.”

Eyes now alight with delight, Luna beamed. “I’m surprised a copy still exists. And you’ve read it! What did you think?”

“It was good?” Twilight really, truly, desperately needed at least a few minutes alone to regroup. She’d not been prepared for this. “I got what I wanted out of it.”

“Excellent! I’m glad to have played some small part in your education.” For what it was worth, it seemed as though Luna genuinely meant that. “Now perhaps you might answer my own questions, Twilight Sparkle.”

“Just Twilight, please,” she replied automatically. Luna was, if not strictly speaking family, then close enough, and Celestia obviously wanted them to get along for reasons which extended beyond her resignation to her sister’s triumph. “How can I verify you’re really Luna?”

The question was met with an approving nod. After a little thought, Luna replied, “When we were young, relatively speaking, I used to refer to my sister as Tia. It originated from me teasing her over her insatiable love of tea, a luxury good in those first centuries with an exorbitant cost. When a pony wished to express discontent with government spending in our early years, it often involved allusions to her bathing in it. Jasmine in particular, her favorite at the time.”

That was easy enough to remember.

“Now then, Twilight, let’s discuss you. I’m dying to know what you are.”

As much as Twilight felt should just tell Luna that she was a unicorn in case this was the real one, the temptation to see what secrets she might lift from an unguarded alicorn in that very same instance proved overwhelming. She trusted Celestia, of course, but she also trusted Celestia to hide things if she – usually rightly so – thought them better left forgotten.

Hmm… We have an Alicorn of the Sun and an Alicorn of the Moon. Matching the celestial theme, Twilight said, “I’m the Alicorn of the Sky,” with confidence she hoped would lend her deception strength.

Luna’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?” She craned her neck to get a better view of Twilight’s cutie mark. “Ah, I see. As I am the Alicorn of the Night, no doubt. Curious. How does that work?”

As she had no idea what they were talking about anymore, Twilight plainly replied, “I don’t know.” Any other answer would only betray her own ignorance. “I’m new at this.”

“Understandable. It took my sister and I decades to fully come to terms with our existence, and you haven’t even three decades yet under your belt since you awoke, correct?”

Awoke? That was an odd verb choice. Nonetheless, Twilight nodded along.

“Perhaps there are a few ponies I can consult between now and when you next fall asleep to help you better understand yourself. I don’t expect much to come of it, but one never knows.”

It hit Twilight then that one of her basic assumptions about the threat Nightmare Moon – or Luna, it seemed – posed had been way off the mark. They weren’t dealing with a goddess who’d been isolated for a thousand years, left with nothing but her own mad ramblings. If this Luna were real, then she’d had all the company a pony needed to keep herself mentally stable. The world could take a collective sigh of cautious relief.

And then the other shoe dropped.

She’s had a thousand years to quietly organize ponies for her coup. And Celestia has been helping her along.

Twilight brought out the Royal Breathing Exercises to calm herself. The need for them had become alarmingly frequent lately, and she really didn’t like what that said about the direction her life was turning.

“What are you doing?”

“Calming myself!”

“Why?” A look of realization passed over Luna’s face. “Oh, I assume you–”

There were good ways to wake up and bad ways to awaken. Twilight personally liked to wake up half-buried in clouds and, although she typical avoided such indulgences since becoming a mare, with a member of the family to snuggle into or around. Waking up in pain and moaning, however, was decidedly not on her list of favorites. Lying in a hospital bed with that horrid yet iconic antiseptic stench in the air certainly did nothing to mitigate the experience.

Owwww, my horrrrnnnn.

Nothing and yet everything hurt. Her magic didn’t have nerve endings, but it somehow found a way to let Twilight know how unhappy it was with her. The general soreness became agony in her horn where her flesh and the arcane melded into one. When she tried to get out of bed, she barely had the strength to fail to lift a leg. She promptly abandoned that as a lost cause and decided to conserve her energy.

Still, she was alive. Twilight considered that a win. She could analyze what had gone wrong later.

So, judging by how sweaty I feel, I must be having fever dreams. Fantastic. I’m going to be sleeping in fits, aren’t I? And just when I had an alicorn ready to confess everything. Twilight weakly clicked her tongue.

Off in a corner of the room, Twilight spotted a large but neat pile of a random assortment of objects. It didn’t take her long to realize that they all belonged to her. Her bag of holding must have failed in her sleep, which made her wonder just how long she’d been out. Interestingly, she did notice that her coat was still butterscotch.

I wonder who refreshed my polymorph? Lyra was the obvious possibility, but Twilight hoped Celestia had already heard of her condition and stopped by. They needed to talk before she fell asleep again, and she didn’t know how long she would stay awake before drifting off again.

Leaning back into the pillow, Twilight tried calling out for a nurse. Her voice was weak, barely a whisper, but either a monitoring spell had been set up or fortune was on her side, for one appeared.

“Good afternoon, Index. I’m Nurse Redheart. How are you feeling?”

“Terrible.” Twilight, in no mood to play pretend, could rattle off a list of symptoms, but it might be faster to list what parts of her body didn’t want her flank on a platter.

“My sympathies. We unfortunately haven’t been able to do anything to help ease your pain. Without knowing what happened, we feared anything we gave you would make your condition worse.”

Twilight opened her mouth to tell Nurse Redheart not to worry because there was nothing to be done but then decided against it. It would only invite follow-up questions she didn’t want to answer. Ultimately, she simply feigned ignorance and said, “I don’t know. I can’t recall.”

“Does it have something to do with any of that, perhaps?” Nurse Redheart directed a rather pointed look at the pile of, to her, junk cluttering up her hospital.

Rather than muster the strength to offer a more thorough explanation, Twilight just shook her head a fraction of an inch.

“Then the best we can offer you is to let you ride out your symptoms here under observation.”

Twilight nodded her understanding. It was better than nothing. “How long?” Luna had, technically, given her the exact date if she cared to do some mental math, but she really didn’t right now. Plus there was that questionable existence thing to consider.

“It’s difficult to say, to be honest. Within the week, we hope, but we won’t know for sure for a couple more days.”

“No,” Twilight said. “How long out?”

“Oh. Pinkie brought you in just before midnight on the fourth. It’s the seventh now.”

A long, resigned sigh escaped Twilight. She’d already slept through two and a half days, and she was going to lose even more time before she got out of here. What a disaster this had become. The worst part was she had nopony to blame for it but herself. Would it really be so hard to just suck it up and socialize for the next five weeks?

Well, yes. There were valid, legitimate reasons Celestia hadn’t wanted her to come here, after all. And that was without considering all of the complications which had arisen.

“You’ve had some visitors.”

Twilight’s ears perked up at the mention of visitors. “Who?”

“Lyra Heartstrings, Bon Bon, Pinkie Pie, of course, and the Cakes, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle admitted separately–”

That deserved a chuckle as much as it did gratitude, both of which Twilight offered.

“–Rarity, Derpy Hooves, Cheerilee, Amethyst Star, and Mayor Mare are all of the locals. You’re made a lot of friends in the short time you’ve been here.”

Psh, acquaintances at best.

“You also had someone from out of town stop by. A Sun Wisp, if I recall correctly.”

The last name made Twilight smile weakly. It was one of Celestia’s favorite fake identities. While that meant she could just lie around, wait, and try not to nod off, she much preferred proactive solutions to her problems. “Do you have anypony on call who can cast a flame sending spell?” she slowly asked.

Nurse Redheart’s hesitance was answer enough, but she still said, “I’m not sure. What does it do?”

“Never mind. Could you send for Ly – no, Sweetie Belle?” The seapony probably didn’t know any but the most basic of fire magics regardless, but Twilight would rather deal with an adorable little filly hungry for knowledge and quick to learn.

Although obviously hesitant to deliberately bring a Crusader into the hospital, Nurse Redheart acquiesced and promised to send somepony for Sweetie Belle. After providing Twilight with a glass of water should it be desired, she took her leave to return to her other duties.

With that, Twilight relaxed, forced herself not to close her eyes, which would inevitably put her to sleep, and turned inward to contemplate what had transpired between her and the Luna in her dreams. Even if that Luna turned out to be just a figment of the imagination, what she’d said might still have value.

So what did I learn?

Alicorns are ‘awakened’, whatever that means. It’s not particularly new information, but it does lend credence to the popular theory that alicorns aren’t born in the traditional sense. I can understand why Celestia doesn’t want to let that information loose. She gets enough worship as is without a non-biological birth of sorts muddying the waters. Or rebirth, rather. Celestia is too pony-like psychologically not to be one of us, and there’s zero evidence the Classical Era developed artificial life capable of effectively pretending to be a pony.

Beyond that, Luna was fairly insistent that I be the alicorn of something. She accepted the sky as a broader characterization. Thus night is to moon as day is to sun as sky is to what?

Twilight’s head hurt too much for riddles. She’d tuck that away for later analysis. Luna had seemed confused over the answer to the riddle anyway even if she hadn’t deemed it outright impossible.

Now what do I already know?

Alicorns have a magical density and maximum magical output ludicrously in excess of what should be possible. I ran the numbers to determine if Celestia could mostly exist in a pocket dimension, but it just doesn’t scale. To make it big enough for her to inhabit, even if she first ran herself to magical exhaustion, she’d need to expend more magic than she generates.

Alicorns are immortal in the ageless and indestructible sense, although Celestia implied that the latter is theoretically not the case but true in practice. They’re unaffected by disease. They sleep, and they eat. To be honest, I suspect those are Celestia’s vices more than anything she actually needs. And to be fair, I could get by entirely without the latter myself if I wanted.

Only Luna can dreamwalk that I’m aware of, but alicorns in general have access to the three canonical Equestrian branches of magic. It seems likely that their magic is entirely untyped, enabling them use anything and everything from earth pony magic to draconic magic provided that they adopt the appropriate form to do so. But between the three pony tribes, there’s not much gained using any other type, so Celestia either doesn’t or hasn’t bothered to learn. If this isn’t just pure speculation, of course.

A knock came on the door. Nurse Redheart poked her head in and said, “Sweetie Belle has arrived.”

Huh. I forgot how small Ponyville is. “Send her–”

Sweetie Belle rushed past the nurse into the room, completely ignoring any noise ordinances. “You’re awake! I was so worried!”

Although she didn’t have the strength to cover her ears, Twilight did manage to angle them down before Nurse Redheart scolded Sweetie Belle for shouting. That managed to get an apology from her, but it utterly failed to put a stop to her ardor.

“Index, what happened to you?”

Oh, right. My cover. Twilight briefly contemplated how tired and sluggish she felt. Meh. Whatever. After assuring Nurse Redheart that she would be fine alone with the little ball of energy in the room, she said, “Just a little magical accident. I’ll be fine.”

“But you slept for two days straight!”

“I did, and I’ll be fine.”

“But–”

Twilight let out a patient sigh and tuned out Sweetie Belle. Was I ever like this with Celestia? As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she’d probably been worse. When the room was silent again, she once more reassured her guest that she would be fine. Then before any further protests could arise, she asked, “Could you do me a couple favors?”

With an eager bounce, Sweetie Belle readily agreed, her face bright and obviously happy to be of help.

“Thank you. When you leave, go through my pile of stuff.” Twilight made a little nod in its approximate direction. “Take the loose papers and notebooks. Hide them where they won’t be lost or found.” If anypony had wanted to riffle through them without permission, they’d already had two days to do so, but she could at least not make it an open invitation. Some of the documents in the heap were classified. “They’re enchanted, so don’t worry about damage. Try not to touch anything else. Some of it is dangerous.”

Sweetie Belle nodded her understanding.

“My other request will require more work. I’m not feeling up to spell casting. Do you know somepony who could help me with that?”

The squee that came in reply was answer enough.

“Well, I guess you’re willing to learn. This will be difficult, but you should be able to cast it – if not understand it – within the hour. Do you have the time?”

Once Sweetie Belle said that she did, they began the lesson. The lecture on the flame sending spell went smoothly. The core spellforms were simple enough, being a mere interconnected combination of lesser magics. Magic was easy when broken down into its basic components despite what everypony else said.

However, when the the first hour rolled by, it truly sank in just how difficult it was to teach purely orally without magic. Twilight lacked the ability to demonstrate. She lacked the capacity to guide, correct, and nudge Sweetie Belle in the right direction as she had with the last spell she’d taught. The solution to this, as it became apparent, was to detour into the illusion school for a little cantrip that caused magic to emit visible light. Teaching that spell went far faster, and once Sweetie Belle had it mastered, Twilight proved far more capable of helping her learn the flame sending spell.

All told, it took Sweetie Belle a little over three hours to send a blank piece of paper across the room.

“Finally!” Twilight exclaimed. She regretted it immediately after as she descended into a coughing fit and then again when she caught the look on Sweetie Belle’s face.

“I apologize for taking–”

“Don’t,” Twilight managed between wheezes. “Not you. Me. Did well with useless teacher.” She wasn’t sure how genuine the cautious smile on Sweetie Belle’s face was, but she would take it. “Can you take dictation?”

“Uh-huh! One sec.” Sweetie Belle rushed out the door and came back a minute later with quill, ink, and parchment. “Ready!”

Not particularly wanting to deal with a hyperactive fanfilly and knowing that few ponies knew the, in hindsight, somewhat pretentious name she’d given Spike when she’d been far too young to be naming a potted plant, let alone a person, Twilight dictated, “Spykoran, please tell Sun Wisp I’m awake and need to speak with her.”

After Sweetie Belle finished writing, Twilight reluctantly parted with the destination key for Spike. She knew she was going to regret opening up a line of communication between Canterlot’s troublemakers and the Cutie Mark Crusaders, but with Luna potentially dreamwalking, who else could she fully trust but someone in the family?

Of course, Twilight could have Sweetie Belle send the letter to Celestia directly, but really? It was bad enough she already had the much prized archmage’s address from testing the flame sending spell. Even Twilight’s parents routed mail to her through Spike. Sweetie Belle didn’t need a direct line to the Princess of Equestria as well.

While Twilight debated the horrible implications of the information she’d freely given to Sweetie Belle in her feverish state, said filly burnt the letter to ashes and sent it off without any awareness of what she now had within her hooves. As the spell finished drawing its power from her, she lurched forward but caught herself before she fell.

“You okay?” Twilight asked.

Sweetie Belle nodded. “That was exhausting,” she said with heavy breath. “How far did I send it?”

“It should just be going to Canterlot.” After a few seconds, Twilight added, “Which is fairly far for somepony your age.” Or any age, really, but only because most unicorns never built up their magical capacity beyond what would comfortably get them through daily life. “Anyway, thank you for playing mailmare for me. I’ll return the favor when reality is my plaything again.”

Laughing, Sweetie Belle said, “No need. You already taught me so much and saved my life. I am in your debt far more than you are in mine.”

“As you wish.” Twilight was far from in the mood to argue trivialities. “Come back anytime, but for now, please gather my papers and skedaddle. I’ll have company soon, and we’ll need privacy.”

Puzzled, Sweetie Belle asked, “How?”

Celestia appeared in the room in a convergence of light. She’d taken on Sun Wisp’s appearance, a unicorn mare with a bronze coat, a yellow mane and tail, and a single solar wisp for a cutie mark. If somepony who knew anything about teleportation were in the room, her manner of arrival would have exposed her real identity. But as there was only a young, untested sorceress present, her disguise remained intact.

“Like that, I suppose,” Twilight said.

Celestia, although everything about her radiated concern and worry to those who knew her best, started with an easy question. “What’s like what?”

“My guest asked after the manner of your arrival.”

Following Twilight’s nod, Celestia’s gaze fell upon the room’s other occupant. “Oh. Hello, little one.”

After the initial shock wore off, Sweetie Belle stared wide eyed up at Celestia. “That. Was. So. Cool! Index, can you do that? Can you teach me?”

“Usually, yes,” Twilight replied. “But keep that to yourself. For now, why don’t you head out. You can come back later to finish what I asked of you.” Sure, she could just have Celestia hold on to her things for her, but Sweetie Belle looked so happy to help. She recalled those days fondly. They were so long ago, back before the tedium and familiarity had worn away her enthusiasm to assist her own mentor.

Celestia watched Sweetie Belle leave with a mischievous eye. Once they were alone, she teasingly said, “That is a cute little protégé you have there.” When Twilight didn’t immediately deny it, her smirk passed through surprise and eased into a more genuine expression of affection. “Is she?”

After a pregnant silence, Twilight replied, “Maybe.”

“I’m happy for you,” Celestia said, and for a moment, Twilight actually thought that would be the end of it. “But you do realize I must tease you incessantly for this once you recover.”

Twilight groaned.

“How many times have I had to listen to you complain when I ask you to give a guest lecture at my school?”

Grumbling, Twilight replied, “Not enough to make you stop asking.”

Celestia actually had the gall to say, “Of course not. It’s good for you.” Once she stopped laughing, her tone turned serious. “What happened to you?”

“Wards first.”

Although she rolled her eyes, Celestia put up all of the usual privacy spells necessary to keep eavesdroppers, both magical and mundane, from overhearing their conversation. “Too weak to do this yourself?” she asked. The reprimand in her tone did not go unnoticed, although Twilight did appreciate that Celestia automatically assumed the only thing that could actually put her in the hospital anymore was herself.

“Yes, in fact. It’s very irritating. It took me hours longer than it should have like this to teach Sweetie Belle the flame sending spell. If I’d known that…” Well, Twilight probably still would have gone for the magic option, but the point was she could have just sent a pegasus courier or even had Pinkie Pie take the next train to Canterlot. “Never mind.”

“Twilight,” Celestia began solemnly as she found a seat beside the bed, “when I first got here, I performed an examination of my own. I had no idea what was wrong with you. My best guess is you somehow managed to contaminate your magic–”

If she could, Twilight would have facehoofed. Had she really made the magically equivalent mistake of not washing her hooves and instruments before surgery? Probably.

“–something I have never in my entire life seen before. How did this happen?”

“How am I doing now?”

Celestia leveled a glare at Twilight which said she would have answers. Nonetheless, she performed the necessary medical spells. “Your readings are far more normal. Not fully, mind, but considerably better than the last time I checked.”

Twilight breathed out a sigh of relief. Experiment successful, I guess. I’ll need to determine exactly what went wrong and if I achieved the intended effect, but I’ll count being alive and not crippled as a win right now.

“So? When your brother eventually escapes my niece’s hooves and starts pounding on my door again for answers, what am I going to tell him?”

“Oh.” Twilight, contrite, sunk into herself. “I worried a lot of ponies, didn’t I? I’m sorry.” Although the repentance expressed was genuine, it utterly failed in its secondary goal of deflecting Celestia’s inquiries.

“Nice try, but who do you think taught that to you? Now tell me what foolish, reckless experiment you got caught up in this time.”

Twilight clicked her tongue. She’d need to bring out the big guns. “It was just a minor magical mishap, Tia.”

Like magic, Celestia froze in place with a gasp no louder than a mouse, and Twilight swore under her breath. That confirmed it. The Luna in her dreamscape had been the real one.

“Please do not call me that.”

By Celestia’s tone, Twilight knew such was not a request. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew it was insensitive to make light of this, but she still felt the addling touch of her fever and wanted for a distraction. “I don’t know. It’s an awfully cute nickname. Did you really used to bathe in Jasmine tea?”

“What? Of course no–” As the memories came back to her, a light pink dusted Celestia’s cheeks. “Where did you even hear such a story? I thought I eradicated all traces of it.”

If Twilight hadn’t been sure before, she was now. “Your sister mentioned it to me.”

“What!” Celestia shrieked far and away too loudly for a hospital. It was only by the grace of the privacy wards she’d erected that a nurse hadn’t come to escort her out.

“Volume,” Twilight whispered, ears pinned to her head.

Still seething, Celestia apologized and asked, “Did my sister do this to you?”

“No, no,” Twilight said. “She’s still banished, just dreamwalking. Judging by her mental state, she has been the whole time.” If she had the energy for it, she’d probably descend back into a panic as she had before she’d awoken.

A few moments passed in stunned silence.

“Please say that again.”

“Hmm? Oh, Luna is mentally stable.” Or she at least could act the part. “And identifying as Luna.”

The dreadful sound of mucus in a runny nose made Twilight shudder. Nonetheless, she made what token effort she could to pull Celestia into a comforting hug. Then with a sobbing alicorn in disguise more on top of her than in her arms, she elaborated on what she’d already said.

“I only met her briefly before my dream collapsed. She may be different in person. It may have been an act. I don’t know for sure what her intentions are for you, but…”

“That’s enough,” Celestia said. “It’s enough. Thank you.”

They lay together like that for an indeterminate length of time until Celestia’s tears finally petered out to little sniffles. Despite her breakdown, or perhaps because of it, she looked more vibrant than Twilight had ever seen her. How long had she been holding that in? A century? Two? A millennium?

“Am I secretly an alicorn?”

Celestia laughed freely with clearly no idea how to respond or even where that question had come from. For Twilight, that was an objective accomplished. When she settled down, she replied, “You would know if you were. Trust me. What makes you ask?”

“I was in my dream before I managed to break into my personal dreamscape. It stuck for whatever reason. Then when I bumped into Luna, she made an assumption or two, and I rolled with it.”

That managed to get Celestia laughing again. “If only I could see the look on her face when she realizes. Oh, when we were young, Lulu and I would play so many pranks on each other. I miss that so much.”

Twilight looked at Celestia in surprise. “You? A prankster?” She knew Celestia had her moments of mischief, but she still had a hard time picturing it.

“What would eternity be without a few laughs?” Celestia asked. It was, to be fair, a good point. Then she hummed thoughtfully. “I suspect I know why you were an alicorn in your dreamscape, but you should ask Luna. She’s the expert. She will return, right?”

As one short and only moderately successful attempt at communication would no doubt not satisfy Luna, Twilight said, “Probably. Any message you’d like me to pass along?”

Celestia ruminated on the matter for the longest time. Ultimately, however, she replied, “No. When we speak, I’d like it to be in person.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve waited nearly a thousand years,” Celestia said. “I can wait a little longer.”

Twilight nodded her acceptance. She could understand the sentiment, although perhaps she could convince Luna to go talk with Celestia. If they could resolve their differences in a dream, perhaps with gratuitous levels of violence involved, then maybe this family drama could have a happy ending. It was worth a shot. Not that she wouldn’t blast Luna with the Elements of Harmony anyway if she could. Better safe than sorry and all that.

“Oh. I found a bearer for Honesty.”

“Truly? How are things between you two?”

“Abysmal.”

Celestia managed a weak chuckle before finally removing herself from the bed. “I did attempt to dissuade you.”

“That’s not fair. It’s that seapony I wrote you about.” Twilight sighed. “I gave her a visa, but we’re going to need to naturalize her now that she has Honesty. Take care of that for me?” She played up her symptoms and forced a few coughs.

With a roll of her eyes, Celestia promised to do so.

“Great.” Then as fast as she could, too fast for Celestia to interject, Twilight said, “Her name is Lyra Heartstrings. She lives with Sweetie Drops, the head of the Anti-Monster Division of the EIS. She’s one of Aquestria’s previous masters of waters. Faked her own death and everything. Huuuuge scandal if it gets out.”

“What? Twilight, I don’t–”

“You promised!”

Celestia pushed a long, heavy breath out her nose. “You tricked me.”

Twilight just stuck her tongue out.

“Fine. I’ll make the necessary arrangements.” Under her breath, Celestia muttered, “What a mess.”

Not my problem anymore, Twilight thought with perhaps too wide a smile. “Have you been refreshing my polymorph for me?”

Nodding, Celestia added, “I’ll continue to do so until you recover.”

After giving her thanks, Twilight asked if anything interesting had happened during her coma. Other than an upcoming movie night with Chrysalis of all people, Celestia only had regular status updates on their plans to relay. She did, however, recall one other piece of news after she finished her report.

“Cadance came to me with a wonderful idea several moons ago that somewhat casts shame on me for my biases: a school for gifted pegasi.”

Twilight blinked. “Huh. Now that you mention it…”

“I know exactly what you mean. I said as much to her. She has most of the initial plans worked out now. I just came from a meeting with her, actually.”

“What about one for earth ponies?” Equestria didn’t have the population to support a dedicated school for dragons, deer, and the like, but after having Pinkie Pie shoved in her face, Twilight saw the undeniable need for one where earth ponies were concerned.

Celestia offered a helpless shrug. “The idea arose, but we have a lack of direction. Moreover, your discovery of Pinkie Pie puts any curricula we might consider in doubt. At the same time, however, earth ponies clearly have much overlooked potential. We must correct that.”

“Agreed. Thank you for coming so quickly, but I should let you get back to Cadance.”

“Of course.” Celestia rose to her hooves and dissolved into light.

Inwardly, Twilight did a little dance at pulling a successful distraction and being let off the hook.

And then Celestia returned with a smirk. “But before I leave, perhaps you could finally tell me how you ended up in the hospital, hmm?”

Twilight groaned. “Fine. I developed a new medical procedure and used myself as a guinea pig.”

This, rather predictably, resulted in a long scolding.

In a quiet corner of Canterlot Castle, Spike sat idly chatting with Flurry. Cadance had brought them here on a detour into town for a ‘brief’ chat with Princess Celestia about a new school for gifted pegasi like the one for they already had for unicorns. A while ago, Spike had coughed up a weird scroll. He’d not recognized the writer’s penmareship, but there were only a handful of ponies who knew his full name, so he’d done as asked and relayed the message to Princess Celestia, who had immediately excused herself with the promise to return shortly.

It might have been a good idea to ask what an immortal alicorn considered ‘shortly’. Since her departure, the three of them – Spike, Flurry, and Cadance – hadn’t heard a word from her and had resigned themselves to a long wait. Cadance went to work further refining her plans, taking the occasional break to enjoy her tea. Meanwhile, Spike and Flurry had reluctantly entertained each other instead of heading down to the kitchens for a snack which would ‘spoil their dinner’.

But finally – finally! – Princess Celestia reappeared in an implosion of light. She came without warning as she always did when moving about in haste, but everypony in the family had long grown used to it. “My apologies for the absence. If I had known Twilight would hold me up for so long, I would have asked you to come back later.”

Spike put a claw to his lips and quietly moved Flurry further into the background. Whenever somepony brought up his mother over the last couple days, the adults always got a worried look but refused to say anything but platitudes. But if Princess Celestia had forgotten they were here, she might let something slip.

Cadance dismissed the apology with a wave of her hoof and instead leapt straight to the heart of the matter. “How is Twi doing?”

“Better than I expected, to be honest, but sometimes I question where I went wrong with her. The ideas she gets into her head when nopony is around to ground her.” Princess Celestia shook her head as she poured herself a new cup of tea.

“It’s nothing you did, Auntie. Trust me. She was like that long before you got to her.” After taking a sip from her own cup, Cadance asked, “So what did she do this time?”

“While unforthcoming about the details, she admitted to performing surgery on herself.”

Cadance nearly choked in time with Spike and Flurry’s dual gasps. “That mare. Nothing but an overgrown foal, I swear. Has she at least made any friends while playing mad scientist?”

“I believe so. Just one or two for now – low hanging fruit, as she would say – but perhaps they will help open her up to the magic of friendship.” Princess Celestia took her first sip of tea and let out a pleased hum. “You can ask her directly for the details. In the meanwhile, we were discussing your intended faculty for the initial experimental phase. The Wonderbolts take in many of Equestria’s most talented pegasi. Have you looked through their ranks, past and present, for potential professors?”

“Yes, actually. There’s a few decent picks amongst them, but I’m hesitant to pull them into a school for foals. I don’t want to start up a military academy.”

Princess Celestia conceded the point. “Do you have anypony else in mind?”

“I have a roster I’d like your assistance with narrowing down. I’m worried about overrepresenting the weather industry. It’s the number one employer of pegasi by a wide margin, which makes it difficult to avoid, but this is specifically supposed to be about expanding opportunities. I have a similar concern for the postal service. In all honesty, I think our culture is too focused on public service. Where are our doctors ready to advance our knowledge of medicine? Where are our great scholars whose name everypony knows? When a pony sees a pegasus, they think weather, military, mail. Usually in that order. I know I’m not one to talk. A princess born to unicorns, raised in Canterlot in the lap of luxury and free to indulge in writing as a hobby? What do I know about being a pegasus?”

Some light laughter met the rhetorical question. “I have heard exactly that from all three tribes myself many times over. I do agree, however. And education is usually the first place to effect change.”

“Yeah. Sorry for getting on my soap box there. Anyway, there’s one mare that I really want to get ahold of before the Wonderbolts finally get her.”

Princess Celestia raised an eyebrow.

“They keep sending her invitations to join. She’s a huge fan and ostensibly wants to be one. By all rights, she should leap at every opportunity, but she keeps turning them down. I peeked at her file while visiting the Wonderbolts’ compound, which is what put me onto her trail in the first place. The only reason she ever gives is just that she ‘can’t right now’.”

“Hmm… She has talent, then, I take it?”

Cadance scoffed. “She’s the Twilight Sparkle of pegasi.”

“Very high praise. Who is she?”

After a bit of shuffling around of papers, Cadance presented something to Princess Celestia. “Rainbow Dash. She’s the one who performed the sonic rainboom all those years ago.”

“Oh yes, I recall that. Twilight told me it happened almost immediately after she hatched Spike.”

Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. It was a bit of a minor detail in what was the story of Spike’s own birth, Twilight’s cutie mark, and the reason Princess Celestia had taken Twilight on as a student. It certainly didn’t help that he’d been too young to remember witnessing it himself.

“It’s not really about that at all,” Cadance said. “She excels in every branch of pegasus magic and has practically invented new ones. She’s a genius.” Rather morosely, she added, “And a jock.”

“Ah, there’s the rub. Not a fan of school?”

Cadance snorted, which was all the answer anyone needed.

“Teaching would be a hard sell, then, especially against the alternative. Do you perchance know why she keeps turning the Wonderbolts down?”

“No, but she lives in Ponyville. I’m hoping Twi can tell me.”

“Unlikely, but…” Princess Celestia sipped from her tea with a thoughtful expression. “Twilight told me there are changelings in Ponyville. They may know more.”

Before Cadance could reply, Spike felt a surge of magic grow within him. A few moments later, he coughed up another scroll with a flash of bright green flame.

“More mail? Is it from Twi again?”

Spike picked up the letter. Unlike the last, which had been barely more than a note, this one had an elegant bow sealing it shut. Upon opening it, he recognized the same tidy script as before, but it was addressed specifically to him from the sender. He quickly scanned to the bottom and checked the name. Who is Sweetie Belle? It wasn’t one of the names Twilight used.

“No, Aunt Cadance. It’s for me, though, so I’m–”

“We’re,” Flurry corrected.

“So we’re going to go read it somewhere else.”

After promising not to wander off too far, Spike and Flurry left the meeting room. Upon finding the chamber across the corridor vacant, they commandeered it for their own purposes and huddled together conspiratorially.

“So who’s it from?”

“Somepony name Sweetie Belle,” Spike replied. “Ever heard of her?”

“Nope. Just start reading.”

With a nod, Spike returned to the top of the page and read aloud, “‘Dear Spykoran, I considered whether or not I should send this letter, but I just could not resist. Anypony who knows Index must be just as amazing as she is.’”

“Index? That’s one of your mom’s disguises, isn’t it?”

Spike hummed an affirmative. “‘My name is Sweetie Belle. I live in Ponyville just south of Canterlot at the border of the Everfree Forest. For lack of a better term, you could call me a student of magic. A few days ago, Index saved my life and has taught me so much ever since, including the flame sending spell (which is exhausting).’”

“Is it really?” Flurry asked. “You send mail all the time.”

“The species makes all the difference. Dragons use it all the time to send things to their hoard.” Dragonfire could burn most anything, after all, which made the flame sending spell incredibly useful. “Mom described the unicorn version as…‘like trying to send a message in a bottle to somewhere upstream’. I think I got that right.”

“Huh. Neat.” Flurry poked the letter with a hoof. “Go on.”

“Right. Uh… Aha! ‘I really want to get to know her better, but it seems like she has a lot of stuff to do besides just overseeing the Summer Sun Celebration. Whenever somepony sees her in town, she’s always busy. Worse, she ended up in the hospital!’”

Spike could have guessed that from what he’d overheard earlier, but it was nice to finally have somepony tell him outright. At least he knew Twilight was already on the path to recovery.

“‘So I guess the real reason I sent this letter is to see if there is any way I can help her, but my original intention was that it might be fun to be pen pals. Sweetie Belle. P.S. I can only cast the flame sending spell at most once every hour or so. I also have no idea how to send letters back to me.’”

“She brings up a good point. Can you send a response?”

“Well, I could always have Mom pass a letter along,” Spike said, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully, “but so long as nopony else sends me anything before then, I think I can manage it.

“Excellent!” Flurry hopped into the air and fluttered about the room. “This sounds like tons of fun. Found a quill! What should we say?”

“Hey! This is addressed to the amazing Spykoran.”

“Oh, come on! Parchment! Ooh, and ink!” Flurry returned with all three in tow, spreading them out onto the floor. “She doesn’t even know who you are. It might as well be addressed to me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Spike said with a wave of his hand. “I was just kidding.” Picking up the quill, he set to writing. Dear Sweetie Belle, you don’t have to worry about Mom–

“Don’t write that!” Flurry hissed.

“What? Why not?”

“Because she knows Aunt Twilight as Index. You know, in disguise. Don’t blow her cover.”

Spike crumpled his first attempt and tossed it into the trash from across the room. “Ha! Who’s awesome!” Ignoring Flurry’s insinuation that it was a lucky shot, he grabbed a fresh sheet of parchment and tried again. Dear Sweetie Belle, you don’t have to worry about Index; she does weird stuff all the time.

“Ooh, nice use of semicolon.”

“I know. It’ll make us look super sophisticated.”

“Uh, hello? I’m a princess, and you’re the archmage’s colt.” Flurry pushed their Canterlot accent to absurd levels and said, “We’re sophisticated by definition, my good sir.”

With an eye roll, Spike continued writing. If you want her attention, just ask for it. If she didn’t like you, you would know it. If she can’t make time, you’ll know that too. But being pen pals sounds like fun. There he stopped writing and twiddled the quill between his claws. “How old do you think she is?”

Flurry shrugged her wings. “Some parts kind of read like something my grandparents or Aunt Celestia would write, but some sound more like somepony our age. We could go bother Incog for a quick background check. Or Esp. I think I saw him wandering around somewhere nearby.”

“Or,” Spike began with the much more sensible option, “we could just ask her.”

“Ask her?” Flurry said as if the very concept were foreign to her. “Where would the fun in that be? Let’s just wrap this up so we don’t miss the chance to send it. Then we can go investigating.”

“She’ll have to send another one before I can send another back.”

“So be it! Your princess has spoken.”

Spike rolled his eyes again and added a little warning to their letter. Until you figure out what your mailing address is, we have to latch onto the residual magic from letters you send us. We can only do that once per and only if nopony else sends us something, so we’ll end this here.

Spike lifted quill from parchment and turned to Flurry. “Seem fine?”

“Yep. Go ahead and sign it for me too.”

Spike and Flurry.

The folds of the dress stretched and contorted as a dozen needles and threads passed through in tiny, rapid movements. The fashionista extraordinaire controlling them paid them barely any mind. But even one of such talents as her soon found herself with nothing but a ball of fabric held together by the occasional miss-stitch.

“Oh, ponyfeathers,” Rarity muttered. “That is the fourth time since this morning.”

With a resigned sigh, Rarity threw her latest failure onto the pile with the three others. Even if she fixed it, who would want it? Even if somepony wanted it, could she bare to sell such a hideous, inferior product? What point was there to these lesser dresses when she could sew such splendor as to bring even the most jaded pony to tears?

Rarity summoned her fainting couch from upstairs and, once it arrived, collapsed onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. Inspiration burned within her like a wildfire, untamed and eager to be fed. It was a curse to be plagued so by ideas she could not as yet bring into reality.

Cursed with brilliance! Visions beyond achievement! Of all the worst things that could happen, this is the. Worst. Possible. Thing!

Using her connections in the fashion industry, Rarity had made a few quiet inquiries into thaumic thread only to discover that the archmage had a gift for understatement. Extremely expensive didn’t even begin to cover its price. If she at least knew how to make it herself, she could begin experimenting, but nopony who could would teach her. That left the archmage as her only supplier – the currently bedridden archmage. She felt awful for the poor dear, of course, but Rarity did wish she would hurry up and get back onto her hooves.

From upstairs came a crackling sound, almost as if something were burning.

“Sweetie Belle! Are you playing with fire again?”

“No, Rarity! Just a spell that Index taught me!”

Oh my, Sweetie Belle won’t be able to contain herself when she finally knows who Index really is.

Figuring that Archmage Twilight wouldn’t teach Sweetie Belle anything too dangerous, Rarity pushed the sound she’d heard from her mind. It had obviously done her no good to contemplate her work, however, so she instead imagined all the ways her and her sister’s lives would be changing if all went well.

With the weight of the archmage herself on Rarity’s side, she could finally convince her parents that Sweetie Belle needed a proper education. They would move to Canterlot, likely taking up residence in her boutique there. With the bulk of her clientele no longer needing to travel to her, her business would boom. Sweetie Belle, already having the archmage’s attention, would have the world as her oyster.

Oh, and when the world saw the robes she made for the archmage, ponies would throw the funding required at her to make greater and greater works of art. It was a dream which had all but come true already. It was amazing how much could change over the course of an afternoon.

From the stairwell came the soft sound of hoofsteps descending. Soon, Sweetie Belle appeared at their base and asked, “Hey, Rarity? Does the name Flurry mean anything to you? It sounds familiar. Like a pony you may have mentioned hearing something about?”

“Sweetie Belle, darling, Princess Flurry Heart is Princess Mi Amore Cadenza’s only child. Her father is Archmage Twilight’s brother, Prince Consort Shining Armor.”

“O-oh. I see. And, uh, who is Spike?”

“Spykoran, no? That would be Archmage Twilight Sparkle’s adopted dragon. He and Princess Flurry Heart are as thick as thieves from what I hear.” Unable to resist a little teasing, Rarity added, “Of course, the archmage does tend to keep her family away from the press, which would explain why a fanfilly like you needed a little reminder.”

“Yes, well, thank you for your assistance,” Sweetie Belle said, vacillating between indignity and gratitude.

As Sweetie Belle turned to head back up to her room, Rarity said, “What brought this up? Have you stumbled upon something I should know about?”

“N-no.” It was almost painful how obvious Sweetie Belle was about it. “I just read something in the newspaper that mentioned them.”

Rarity tapped her hoof to her jaw and summoned her reading glasses to her. “Curious. I do not recall any such article. Perhaps you could show me? I would hate to be behind on the latest news.”

“Err… No need. Really, it was just a small piece.”

“Oh, I do not believe that at all. Nothing is ever small to you where it concerns the archmage.”

Sweetie Belle took a step back and tripped over a stair. Under Rarity’s knowing look, she made a full retreat up the stairs in a hasty scramble. Of course, there was nowhere to run, for there was but one staircase in the boutique.

Elegantly rising to her hooves, Rarity walked upstairs in pursuit of her little sister. At the top, she found the door to Sweetie Belle’s room was closed and locked, not that it could stop her. Fumbling blindly with her magic, she eventually found the locking mechanism on the other side of the door. With a light click, it came undone.

Inside, Sweetie Belle’s room was as it normally was. While a few stacks of books on magic had escaped their shelves and lay scattered about the floor, it was otherwise well organized. Noticeably absent, however, was the filly Rarity had expected to find. But then a light breeze fluttered the curtains. The window was thrown wide open, and when she approached to see outside, she spotted her sister galloping away through town with a piece of parchment suspended in the air alongside her.

“Sweetie Belle! I know where you live! You cannot hide a secret from me for long!”

Twilight awoke in the midst of her breathing exercises standing exactly where she had been when her dream had fallen apart. She’d not expected her dreamscape to preserve state to that extent, but in hindsight, perhaps she should have. Everything she did in here was permanent and enduring, according to Luna’s book, forever written into her magic until deliberately erased. She had such ideas for this world. Persistent memory that nopony except possibly Luna knew how to touch! She could archive everything she knew, secure in the knowledge that only one other pony could ever even potentially tamper with it. Granted, she would prefer both zero and not this particular one, but she would take what she could get.

While Luna was not nearby as she had been upon their last meeting, Twilight didn’t recall breaking into her dream world as she had before. That meant, unless she’d drastically misunderstood something, she could expect to find Luna wandering about somewhere.

But speaking of alicorns, Twilight stretched a few muscles she only rarely had in reality. “Yep, still an alicorn.” Glancing down at her body proportions, she added, “And still tiny.” She noticed that her mane still had the ethereal, sparkling appearance as well.

“You lied.”

Twilight shrieked in surprise. Her wings instinctively carried her into the air at full force, but once her heart caught up with her, she fluttered back to the ground. Slowly, she turned in place and found a waiting Luna glaring down at her using every last inch of the height difference between them to full effect.

Thinking fast, Twilight said, “I prefer to think of it as roleplaying. Am I not, in fact, the Alicorn of the Sky at the moment?”

Luna was not amused.

“Celestia thought it was funny.”

“I’m sure she did,” Luna drawled, “Another one over on ole Luna. She doesn’t mind being the subject of every joke. Mirth is her Element.”

Good going, Twilight. We struck a nerve with the vengeful alicorn. What now? When no better idea occurred, she fell back on what she knew. “Laughter is actually the translation that most closely follows the evolution of Ponish.”

“Oh, so you know about the Elements of Harmony. She even told you about me. I had heard you were her new favored tool, but this is surprising. My sister did always like to hold her cards very close to the chest.”

Twilight gulped as Luna stalked a circle around her with a keen, observing eye. “We’re not lovers.”

“Indeed? Hmm, perhaps if my sister had a taste for mares, then.”

“No. Not likely.” Twilight actually found the image that put into her head somewhat revolting beyond her general disinclination toward sex. She quickly pushed it away and asked, “Why are you here?” It seemed foolish to expose Luna’s continued ability to dreamwalk to her so close to the solstice, which made her wonder what she was being distracted from.

Luna made herself comfortable lying on the grass. Once she’d settled in, she replied, “As I told you upon our last meeting, I’m here to get to know my future archmage.” To Twilight’s disbelieving look, she added, “Do recall to whom Honesty belonged.”

With a stomp of her hoof and a snort, Twilight glared at Luna. “That’s awfully presumptive.”

Luna shrugged her wings with far too casual an air. “I think you have a deep enough sense of responsibility to stay on without my sister to tie you down.”

“You know very well that’s not what I meant.”

“Of course I do!” Luna snapped, rising to her hooves with a flowing grace that made Twilight take an uneasy step back. “Do not think I have forgotten Loyalty either, Twilight Sparkle.” She took a step forward only to be met with another step back. “I have rejoiced upon its peaks and suffered in its depths. I know firsthoof the lengths a pony will traverse for those they hold dear.” Wings spread wide to their fullest extent, a nimbus of raw power surrounding her, she came one step closer to glare down upon the miniature alicorn beneath her. “Just as I know that the Elements are broken. I felt my connection to them abruptly sever as my sister misused them. What will she do without their power when I stand before her once more but beg for the kindness and generosity she never showed me?”

In all her years with Celestia, Twilight had forgotten how utterly terrifying alicorns could be.

But then Luna breathed in, deep and slow, and as she exhaled, the vengeful physical goddess seemingly left with her breath. “My apologies, Twilight. After all these years… What expression is it you use these days? Cabin fever?”

Hesitantly and with caution, Twilight said, “Stir-crazy?”

“Yes! That’s it exactly.”

“Understandable,” Twilight allowed. Even she felt the need to leave her tower every so often. “At the risk of…” She faked a cough in place of what had been going to say. “Have you considered visiting a therapist?” As tempted as she was to also suggest attending counseling with Celestia as well, she kept that one to herself for now.

Contrary to expectations, Luna serenely replied, “I have, in fact, gone through many sessions.”

Stunned, Twilight only managed a weak, “What?”

“Oh yes. With a kirin, actually. They’ve developed anger management to an art. It took me years of searching for someone appropriate who was willing to call me out when I was in the wrong, of course, but it’s not like I didn’t have the time.”

Those last words were bitter, but they all sounded sincere to Twilight’s ear. “What about eternal night?”

Luna groaned and averted her eyes. If it wouldn’t have been contrary to everything Twilight expected, she would have sworn Luna blushed. “Can we pretend I never said anything about that?” When Twilight only stared blankly at her, she continued, “Look, I was furious at the time. And monologuing. I couldn’t unsay it once it slipped out, and everypony just went with it. It was the same with Nightmare Moon.”

Twilight blinked.

“What? Were you expecting something more like…” A sinister chuckle filled the air. “Enjoy your remaining days, little pony, for they will be your last. Upon my return, the night will last forever!” Luna spread her wings and reared dramatically to the crash of thunder.

Weakly, Twilight nodded.

“Please,” chided Luna as she fell back onto all four hooves. “Even the most stubborn pony would have to admit eternal night is a bad idea after, I don’t know, a week, tops.”

Then all at once, the truth hit Twilight. “Oh, I get it. You’re not real. This is me dreaming about my dreamscape, not you admitting your evil plan was stupid.”

A very poorly concealed snicker came from the dream Luna. Twilight paid the figment of her imagination no mind and laid down to stare up at the sky. The stars weren’t out, but this exercise had done the trick last time to get her into her dream world, so she figured she could make it work again.

Still pretending not to be laughing, Dream Luna asked, “What are you doing?”

“Shush. I’m trying to calm myself and slip into my dreamscape.”

This seemed to be too much, as Dream Luna broke into outright laughter.

“Ha ha,” Twilight said flatly. “Laugh it up. But when you return to my subconscious, we’ll see who’s laughing then.”

Once she got it all out of her system, Dream Luna said, “I’ll come back in a little while to see how that works out for you,” and then took flight for who knew where.

Sweetie Belle felt the literal weight of guilt upon her. Her saddlebags burned into her side. She shouldn’t have done it, but how could she not have? It’d called to her. It wanted her. She wanted it. She knew she should confess, and apologize, and hope that was enough not to disappoint Index too much, but…she just couldn’t.

But regardless of her treachery, Sweetie Belle was determined to do what she could. She sent up the Cutie Mark Crusader emergency signal with a little magic spell and waited at the ruins of their clubhouse for the others to arrive. Surprisingly, Scootaloo showed up first with Apple Bloom following a couple minutes later despite living only a short walk away.

“My relatives,” Apple Bloom offered by way of explanation for her tardiness. “Don’t ask.”

The subject was immediately dropped, and Scootaloo picked up the thread of conversation. “So what’s up with the signal? Did we leave something dangerous out?”

All three ignored the silent, “Again,” missing from that question.

Opening the overstuffed and not incriminating side of her saddlebags, Sweetie Belle flashed the pile of papers she’d taken from Index’s pile of miscellaneous stuff. “I need someplace to hide these where I can find them later. I was hoping we could bury them somewhere in the orchard?”

“Wouldn’t that ruin them?” Scootaloo asked, to which Sweetie Belle replied that they were enchanted.

The pair then turned to Apple Bloom. She shrugged and said, “I guess.” After she made a stealthy trip into the barn to retrieve some shovels, they left to find a quiet corner of Sweet Apple Acres where they could dig unnoticed and undisturbed.

“So what are all these anyway?” Scootaloo bumped her wing against the bulging saddlebag to make clear just what ‘these’ referred to.

“No idea,” Sweetie Belle replied. “Index asked me to hide them while she recovers. ‘Do not read’ was implied.” But she really, really wanted to.

“And the other thing?” Apple Bloom asked. It need not be said that the very round bulge on the other side of Sweetie Belle’s saddlebags in no way evoked images of more paper.

“Uh, nothing. No. It stays. It’s, uh, just a pretty rock I picked up and thought Rarity might like.”

Rather skeptically, Apple Bloom drawled, “Uh-huh.”

“You know, you’re a worse liar than Applejack,” Scootaloo added. “What’s in the bag?”

With some careful prevaricating, Sweetie Belle managed to put her friends off from any further questions until they finished their primary task. She unloaded the pile of papers, parchments, and notebooks and divided them into three equal stacks. They each took one and dispersed to find a good spot to bury them. She found a particularly twisted tree near the zap apple grove that stuck out in her mind and dug where the grass had already been trampled into dirt. Hopefully, her changes to the area would go unnoticed.

Task done, Sweetie Belle returned to the clubhouse, such as it was right now, to await the return of the rest of the Crusaders. Apple Bloom arrived first this time and, not to her surprise, immediately inquired about the mysterious ‘rock’ which had come into her possession. Scootaloo managed to sneak up on her and filched it from her bag before she could react.

“What the… It is just a rock.”

Sweetie Belle stole the sphere back with her magic, yanking it out of Scootaloo’s grasp. She caught herself just before she wrapped her arms around it, held it tight to her chest, and never let it go.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Apple Bloom said. She drew closer to get a better look at the sphere. “There’s something inside it.”

“Really? Scootaloo now, too, crowded closer.

“A gem, looks like.”

Surprised, Scootaloo said, “You stole a gem?”

“No.”

When she got a better look despite Sweetie Belle’s best efforts, Scootaloo added, “A pretty big one, too. That thing must be worth a lot.”

Sweetie Belle used her magic to pick up and move both of her friends a respectful and safe few steps away and shoved the sphere back into her saddlebags as she did so. They protested, but she said, “Be careful. Index said some of her things could be dangerous.”

“Ya stole it from her?” Apple Bloom asked incredulously.

“No.” But she had. Sweetie Belle could lie and twist the truth all she wanted, but she knew what had really happened. “I’m just…keeping it safe for her.”

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo turned to each other, neither believing the excuse judging by the look on their faces.

“Okay, so why are ya ‘keeping it safe’ for her?”

“I…” More than once already, Sweetie Belle had asked herself that very same question. There had been two other spheres in the pile just like it, but the one she had in her bag had just called to her. She’d had to take it. With no better explanation than ‘just because’ in mind, she pulled Spike and Flurry’s letter from a little side pocket of her saddlebags. “I have two new pen pals for us you will not believe.”

Apple Bloom arched her eyebrows. “If Index comes around asking for that sphere, I’m not gonna lie.”

“Same,” Scootaloo added.

Although she wilted at the proclamations, Sweetie Belle accepted them. It was more than fair of them. They wouldn’t tell on her, but they wouldn’t lie either. She couldn’t ask for more than that.

“Now who are these pen pals?” Scootaloo asked.

“Well,” Sweetie Belle began. Rarity always said it was important to build up to the big reveal. “Earlier today, Index taught me a spell for sending letters. She asked me to send one to Canterlot for her. After I returned home, I decided to send a follow up letter myself to whoever was on the other end. I got this in response.” She held the letter up for her friends to read. When they got to the end, they had more or less the same initial reaction she’d had.

“Who are Spike and Flurry?”

Sweetie Belle stood a little straighter and puffed her chest out. “My thoughts exactly, but the names did sound familiar, so I asked Rarity.”

After a suitably dramatic pause, Scootaloo spoke up. “Well? Don’t keep us in suspense.”

“Prepare yourselves, girls. Flurry is Princess Flurry Heart, and Spike is Archmage Twilight’s adopted dragon.” Sweetie Belle couldn’t stop herself from emitting a little squeal of excitement.

Apple Bloom’s mouth hung open. Scootaloo’s eyes were as wide as Sweetie Belle had ever seen them.

“Whoa,” was all Scootaloo managed.

“I know, right?” Sweetie Belle danced excitedly on the tips of her hooves. “But there’s more! The letter I sent for Index to Spike had him deliver a message to a mare named Sun Wisp. Then not even five minutes later, she teleported straight into Index’s room from Canterlot! When I sat down to think about it later, it hit me. Girls, I think that may have been the archmage or Princess Celestia! I can hardly believe it myself, but who else could–”

Apple Bloom put a hoof on Sweetie Belle’s shoulder. “Take a deep breath and slow down. Yer gonna keel over if ya don’t.”

“Ah. Right. Air.” No ordinary pony could channel Pinkie Pie and hope to survive the experience. “Thanks, Apple Bloom.”

“No problem. But, uh… Well, secret messages? The archmage and the princess directly involved? Index is in the hospital, too. This sounds dangerous. And she’s in real deep. Are ya sure we shouldn’t just, ya know, sit this one out? I mean, with our track record and all…”

That made far too much sense for Sweetie Belle’s tastes. She finally had a teacher. She might have met her idol! She couldn’t give it all up now just because of a little mortal danger. She didn’t think she could handle that. If she hadn’t already ruined everything by stealing the sphere.

“Writing a few letters never hurt anypony,” Scootaloo said. “I mean, if Index really is a secret agent, that’s totally awesome. But I don’t think we’ll get caught up in whatever she’s doing.”

“Well, all right,” Apple Bloom agreed. “It would be fun.”

“Perfect! We should send another letter properly introducing all of us.”

They all shared a look and nodded. “Cutie Mark Crusaders, pen pals! Yay!”

An hour had passed since Luna left. Probably. It was hard to tell time in the dream world. The clock Twilight had conjured into existence most certainly had not ticked at the rate of one tick per second. She would need to ask if Luna had a timepiece she could set her own clock by. She imagined so. Time keeping was important, and with Luna’s presumed pre-banishment ability to slip in and out of dreams at will, she would have been able to sync it accurately.

Regardless, Twilight had managed to achieve the state of mind necessary to move from a lucid dream into her dreamscape, and her repeated failures to actually do so had frustrated her into accepting she’d been there from the beginning. But it hadn’t been time wasted. In Luna’s absence, she’d begun construction on her ultimate fantasy fortress of knowledge using everything she’d learned from reading Entering the Dream Realm.

Twilight first recalled that the base rules of her dream were, in some approximate sense, the laws she thought reality obeyed. That would not do. Even were she an engineer, she had plans in mind which wouldn’t like to be constrained by ordinary space. So she made a few changes here and there. The idea of connectivity was always more important than continuity anyway.

And so, on the summit of her little forest glade, Twilight erected a great tower, perfectly centered and perfectly round. It was her dream. If she desired a perfect circle, then infinite precision she would have.

The first floor she made into a pleasant foyer with a wooden door at the northern end and a portal frame resting against the southern wall. Having watched Luna depart through the edge of her dream, Twilight had performed some mathematical gymnastics to wrap her dreamscape around itself so that its edges existed solely inside that empty portal. Her guests, if they could be called that, would enter and depart like civilized ponies through the designated area, not as they pleased all willy-nilly.

In the second floor, Twilight conjured a magical pantry and dining room where a pony could indulge as she pleased just by opening a cupboard. She had, of course, removed the need for such things, but she knew at some point she would want to indulge in, at the very least, a consequence-free ice cream binge.

The third floor should have waited. So many other rooms needed construction which were higher priority, if lower utility, than her grand library. Yet Twilight went ahead and set to work, designing shelves, tables, chairs, everything a good library needed short of the books which, in all likelihood, she’d either have to write herself or beg Luna to provide copies of from other dreamers. Neither option really appealed, but such was life.

But still, books or no, Twilight proceeded with construction. Before she could decide on an indexing system and set up a librarian’s desk to automatically retrieve and shelve books, she first needed to choose a fractal. Her library would be infinite in size. It would self-generate. But the question was how? She was partial to the Lévy C curve, but perhaps something three dimensional would be better. There was always the Mandelbulb.

Twilight frowned when she heard the echo of hoofsteps in her tower. She quickly fixed that and soundproofed her library. Then on second thought, she made it so that sound couldn’t travel between floors of the tower at all. But then that would create some weird boundary conditions in the stairwell.

Ugh, whatever. I can deal with it later.

The door to the library swung open. Luna came through it with two pints of something frothing floating alongside her. “Huzzah! I have found the cidery!”

Twilight facehoofed. Of course you did. Knowing where this was headed, she removed the ability to become intoxicated from her dreamscape. It might or might not have an effect on guests, but it would let her keep her own wits about her if – when, really – pressured to drink. Indeed, Luna levitated a pint over to her soon after. She accepted it in her own magic and said, “Welcome back.”

“Am I?”

“I suppose,” Twilight replied. Celestia would want her to give Luna a chance.

“Wonderful! Have you ever had Apple family cider?”

“Only the unfermented variety.” Twilight brought the overflowing pint in her magic to eye level and inspected it warily. After taking a cautious sip, she got more or less what she expected from a fizzy drink made of fermented apples. She couldn’t deny that it was good, but it would be better without the alcohol. “Have you been prowling around the Apple family’s dreams, or are they just that old?”

After Luna finished guzzling half her pint, she left out a refreshed, “Ah!” and then magicked her muzzle clean. “Hmm, I believe I still have a few barrels of their cider preserved from the founding of Equestria.”

“No way.”

“’Tis true! If the stasis spells have held up.” Luna gazed into her cider with a pensive expression, but the moment soon passed. “Ah well. There’s always memories.” She held her pint up expectantly.

With a resigned sigh, Twilight knocked hers against Luna’s. Drink spilled all over her nice, new floor. She then reared her head back for what could only be described as a swig. Alcoholic or no, it was still Apple cider.

“It’ll be nice to come home to something familiar,” Luna said aloud to nopony. “I keep in touch with the culture, but I’d be lying if I said I’ve felt involved.”

Twilight buried her sympathy in another drink.

“Heh. I didn’t realize before, but these walls are made of ivory, are they not? Very amusing.”

Slowly, Twilight allowed a smile to grow on her face. “I’m glad somepony appreciates my subtle sense of humor, even if it’s only you. Celestia is usually too busy to notice, and my brother thinks they’re inappropriate. Speaking of…”

With but a thought, the library floor was clean once more. Twilight then relocated the two of them downstairs to the dining hall where food and drink belonged. She eyed the walls carefully before selecting the best location to add another offshoot to the floor. Past it, she quickly threw together an appropriately disreputable tavern and populated it with background ponies, music, and surly barmares. It wasn’t her best work, but it would do in a pinch. After all, if she was going to drink with the sort of enemy, she was going to do it in style.

“Come on.” Twilight gestured for Luna to follow her inside with a hoof. “I made us a table.”

Greatly amused, judging by the smiling laughter, Luna hurried after Twilight and shut the door behind her. They took the small, round table Twilight had specifically instructed the background ponies to stay away from. They sat on opposite sides, the fully grown alicorn snagging a lower chair and the miniature one reluctantly sizing up another. Luna flagged down a barmare for a fresh pint and seemed delighted when it responded to the request.

“Very impressive work. This is truly only your second time here?”

“I’m the Archmage of Equestria,” Twilight plainly stated. “Even if I were sleeping with Celestia” – something which felt even weirder to hear when she said it – “she doesn’t give that title out lightly. Magic and mathematics are my bread and butter.”

“Of course, but to see is to believe.”

That was fair enough, Twilight supposed.

“Now I have a query. Why do you persist as a tiny alicorn? Thy ruse is up.”

“There was no ruse,” Twilight protested. “I showed up like this, and you made assumptions all on your own.”

Luna sulked on her end of the table. “My sister has taught you well. But my question remains. Surely you at least wish to size yourself up?”

Dealing with the height difference to her normal size was getting a little annoying. Twilight had known she’d want all of her lost stature back sooner or later, so she’d been careful not to make anything filly-sized. But she’d delayed the change for a reason. “Celestia said I should ask you why I’m like this. I figured it’d be better to wait.”

Luna hummed into her cider. “And you would believe what I tell you?”

“I don’t see what reason you’d have to lie.” Twilight shrugged. “What are you gonna do? Try to convince me it means I’m meant to be your slave?”

“Oh? Remembering a nightmare, are you?”

Twilight paled beneath her coat. She did remember that nightmare, and she also remembered what secret it revealed. “You saw that?”

“Indeed I did. I must say, your subconscious has some very creative ideas about me. Perhaps once we’ve gotten to know each other better.” That smirk on Luna’s face was infuriating. “For now, I’m far more interested in what research you’re engaged in whose destruction actually shattered your dream.”

Twilight buried her muzzle in her drink and didn’t say a word – no hints, no clever word games, no anything. She was only recently considering telling Celestia. If Luna won their sibling squabble and found out before it was too late that she not only took it seriously but had made progress – she didn’t want to even contemplate the scenario.

“But that can wait, too. Your question has an answer you may dislike. Are you sure you wish to hear it?”

“Of course.” Any change of topic would be an improvement. Besides, Twilight had never been one to avoid facing hard truths.

Luna nodded in approval. “In one’s dreamscape, a pony by default takes on the appearance which she most deeply identifies with. This is usually not precisely as we are in reality. We so rarely see ourselves exactly as we are. This often manifests as a little difference in height, a more or perhaps less manageable mane, straighter teeth, so on and so forth.

“Then there are ponies who experience high levels of body dysphoria. It could be an earth pony who wishes to be a mage. A stallion who longs to be a mare. A griffon who desires to be a pony. I will, of course, not name names, but it’s more common than you might expect. The more deeply ingrained cases tend to lead to varying levels of self-destructive behavior, but sometimes the subjects channel that negative energy to productive ends.”

After a drink to wet her mouth, Luna continued with her psychoanalysis. “You are difficult to place. From the short time we’ve known each other, I can tell this isn’t your first experience with wings. Magically, few can rival you, let alone claim to be your better. When you speak, I imagine you’re used to being obeyed. It’s no stretch to say you have a taste of what life is like as an alicorn. But at the same time, you know you’re not one. When you compare yourself to my sister, you come up, shall we say, short.”

“Hence my size. Ha ha. Very funny.” Twilight sighed. “But you’re probably right. There are times I feel like a discount alicorn.” She took a sip of her drink and then, holding her mug close, mumbled, “Channel it into productive ends, eh?”

“Many ponies have wasted their lives chasing that dream. It would serve you well not to dwell upon such thoughts.”

Twilight couldn’t tell if that was a warning or honest advice. Every sensible sorceress dreamed of becoming an alicorn at one point or another, so she imagined Luna had repeated those same words to many a unicorn. Regardless, the slip of her tongue had served its purpose, so she changed the subject. “What now? You’re here to get to know me, and I’m guessing you’re going to keep showing up no matter what I do or say, so what’s the plan?”

“Well, we could just talk.” Luna leaned forward with an eager smile. “Or we could do something more interesting.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow to suggest Luna continue.

“You actually couldn’t have chosen a better setting. I would like to invite you on an adventure.”

It took a few seconds for Twilight’s brain to process that she’d just been invited to join a quest in a seedy tavern by a dark, suspicious figure. “Oh, you have to be kidding me! You play Ogres and Oubliettes?”

“You’re familiar?”

“My brother and son drag me into games from time to time.” It always turned into a massive time sink, but Twilight certainly understood the appeal. And it was an enjoyable way to spend time with family while encouraging the development of Spike’s creativity and imagination.

Luna tapped her forehooves together merrily. “I’ve been a huge fan ever since I found somepony who knew the rules well enough to reproduce a copy of the source books for me. Of course, we do things a little differently in my group. I’ve had decades to build up campaigns in my own dreamscape.”

That was clue enough for Twilight to know where this was going. She facehoofed. “You want to take me LARPing? Like with foam swords, costumes, and everything?”

“Of course not. This is the realm of dreams. No pain and such, but everything is real. We play by the rules, which you’ll be bound to in that part of my dreamscape, with a few quality of life allowances. And I’m the GM for our current campaign, so you get to be the hero fighting my unquestionable evil as you wish. A win-win.”

“You’re serious?” Twilight said more than asked. She still had trouble wrapping her mind around this course of events.

“Completely.”

Head buried in her hooves, Twilight fully conceded to the madness that had infected her life lately. “Fine.” It won. What was the point of resisting anymore? “Just go put a copy of the source material you’re using in my library.” The least she could get out of this was a few initial books to line her shelves. “I’ll start thinking of what character I want to make.”

“Excellent. I’ll return shortly and then go see if all of my group is asleep yet. When you’re done reviewing, we can get you set up with the character creator.” As Luna rose to leave, she added, “Oh, also you won’t have dream magic once you leave your own dreamscape, and regular pony magic doesn’t work in the O&O area of mine. If you don’t want to go as an alicorn filly–”

“You know what?” interjected a very frustrated Twilight. “I do. Just go get me a rulebook.”

Author's Notes:

Roleplaying is Magic is a real thing! Since the revision, however, I've switched over to O&O because it's canon.

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Behold! A shameless promotion for my Patreon.

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Revision Notes - July 10th (2020)

Chapter Nine - Meet the Party

“’Tis an interesting idea. I understand your approach. It might be possible. But I would hate to see you waste your life on this over a misunderstanding. Promise to keep this secret?”

I am the biggest fool in history. Queen Idiot. The master of thoughtlessness.

Such were the only words Twilight felt adequate to describe herself as she took her first trembling steps into Luna’s dreamscape. She couldn’t go back now. Luna would either oblige, which would happen eventually anyway and spoil whatever tentative rapport she’d built by accepting Luna’s invitation, or laugh at her helplessness. She had no power here. In her own dream, she felt safe. Nopony could touch her there. Perhaps Luna could when her full strength came free of its shackles, but right now with the greater part of her powers sealed away, she seemed capable of creating bridges between dreamscapes and little else.

But here? In Luna’s own dream? Here, she was an unrivaled goddess. Who knew what she could do to a pony with the universe bending at her every whim. Could she trap a pony’s consciousness here inside her own magic? Could she rewrite memories and loyalties? It only occurred to Twilight after she’d gone through the colorful, swirling portal out of her own dreamscape to consider how dangerous gallivanting off after her number one problem might be.

Twilight used to consider herself a brave pony. Bravery was for overcoming fear. Fear was the natural response to danger. In her early years as the archmage, she’d thrown herself into the work and ended up in at least one life-threatening situation every moon. But time had a way of changing things as experience and skill accrued. Her panicked reaction to Pinkie Pie’s introduction, among other things, should have served as a warning.

She hadn’t needed to be brave in years.

“You coming?”

Twilight forced herself to breathe evenly and cast her mind back to her younger days. She recalled her near brush with death in the struggle for the Alicorn Amulet. She remembered her harrowing experience with the Inspiration Manifestation. Those missions in particular had taught her the value of caution, but when had caution turned into cowardice?

Probably not long after we decided to roll the dice and pursue immortality.

But that wasn’t the point! Her past self would slap her and tell her to get her act together. She was the Archmage of Equestria, not some two-bit hedge mage. When she got in over her head, she stood a little taller. When magic failed her, as sometimes happened, she found another solution. She may have gotten herself into this mess, but she would damn well face it with her head held high.

“Yeah, just got lost in my thoughts.”

Twilight followed after Luna through a short series of doors with ever more specific labels until they came upon the one which contained the world for the campaign they would be playing today. In all honesty, she’d expected something wide, grand, and open from Luna’s dreamscape, but she did admire the level of organization involved. When she commented on it, an explanation soon followed.

“I used to do that,” Luna said, “but eventually there was just so much that the clutter needed sorting. I recall once taking a shortcut from one end of a continent to the other, back through another, then finally took one across an ocean to find a book I’d lost a couple decades before and only vaguely remembered well enough to retrace my steps. It was a tangly web of madness not worth the majesty.”

After a thousand years and however much time Luna had put into her dreamscape before her banishment, Twilight could understand how it could get a little out of hoof. Not that she expected to have such problems herself, but she resolved to keep on top of maintaining her dream’s organization nonetheless.

Luna held a hoof on the last door. “Are you ready to meet everyone?”

Everyone? Interesting. “I’ll be on my very best behavior.”

The door opened to reveal a bustling city. As Twilight had been informed in advance, the tech level looked to be about four hundred years behind modern times with historically accurate dress, architecture, and, when she listened closely, the nonsensical background chatter showed the age of the language. She spoke Old, Middle, and Modern Ponish and put it roughly halfway between the latter two. Spike and Shining would be so jealous if they found out about this. Maybe once the dust had settled after the solstice, she could rearrange her schedule for a little more sleep so they could make this a regular thing.

“Hmm… Ah! There they are. You can tell by the smoke.”

Twilight facehoofed. There was, in fact, a large plume of smoke rising into the sky not far away. That hardly boded well. She’d heard some of her brother’s adventuring stories, and she had a feeling she was going to have more than a few of her own to share before the night was through.

After navigating around a few buildings and flying over a crowd of gawkers blocking the street, Twilight and Luna landed just outside a tavern in the process of burning to the ground. A tavern built principally out of stone, Twilight might add, which typically meant one thing: dragonfire.

A group of four loitered conspicuously right outside the tavern, chatting and watching the flames with company and ale.

The first was a purple earth pony mare who Twilight would swear by having seen before somewhere. Her mane and tail were a darker shade than her coat. She had a bow on her back, which combined with her rugged manner of dress, probably meant she was a ranger. Bows weren’t exactly the best choice of weapons for anything without a horn or hands, but Luna had mentioned some quality of life allowances in the game.

Next came a pegasus stallion with a cerulean coat offsetting the ball of fluff he probably called a cerise mane. Oddly, he had a pair of antennae sticking out of his head, but when Twilight recognized the language of the provocative sounding words coming out of his mouth, she felt confident that he was a breezie in the waking world. He wore a bit of light armor paired with a huge sword, which likely made him a fighter. She couldn’t stop herself from imagining how adorable he would be as a two inch tall warrior wielding a toothpick against a hydra but kept that thought to herself.

The third in the lineup was a cyan dragon with an arm wrapped over the shoulders of the fourth member of the party, who had returned the gesture. She and her robes looked a bit worse for the wear. Twilight assumed she’d gotten into a fight, considering the flaming tavern. That generally didn’t go over well for sorcerers.

But then perhaps she’d been too quick to pronounce judgment, for the last pony was a kirin. She had a mandolin hanging at her side by a strap. Whether she knew how to play it or not probably didn’t matter much here, only that her character knew how. Twilight’s bits were on her being a bard. She also had a light gold coat, grayish green scales, and an orange-brown mane and tale which all looked very familiar.

Luna spoke first and announced their presence to the group. “Behold! I have returned with the fifth member of your party. She has agreed to play a cleric and act as your dedicated healer.” There was a hint of amused scolding to that last part. “Meet Twilight Sparkle.”

“Twilight?”

The mare in question gave a half-wave in greeting. “Hello, Autumn.” She didn’t exactly feel betrayed to find a familiar face here. They weren’t nearly close enough for that depth of emotion even if Luna had given an honest explanation of her circumstances. It just caught Twilight off guard.

“You are so cute!” Autumn disentangled herself from the dragon to come closer for a better look. “I love the new look.”

“You know each other?” Luna asked, genuine surprise in her voice.

With as much enthusiasm as she put into everything, Autumn wrapped an arm around Twilight, pulled them together side by side, and replied, “We’re cousins!”

Twilight managed to release herself and get her personal space back. “Yes, well, the kirin population is very small. Most of you are some manner of cousin to me.” To answer the spirit of Luna’s question, she added, “I had a mission which brought me to the Peaks of Peril. I stopped by Autumn’s village when I was done to study the Stream of Silence. Things happened.”

“You bet they did. Thanks again for helping me brew the antidote.”

With a shrug, Twilight said, “It’s what I do.” It would have been a lot easier if they’d found a supply of foal’s-breath flowers, but they’d worked around it.

“Right.” Luna clapped her hooves together to get everyone’s attention. “Introductions. Name, where you’re from, and some friendly blackmail material.” When she noticed the look Twilight gave her after requesting both name and origin, she smirked. The sampling would obviously be biased, but she was brazenly giving Twilight character witnesses to interview in the real world.

“Ooh, ooh, ooh! Me first!” No one opposed Autumn’s desire despite the fact that everyone here already knew her. “I’m Autumn Blaze. I’m from the kirin village in the Peaks of Peril.” She lowered her voice and put a hoof to the side of her mouth. “At some times of day, Silhouette Gloom of the Sundown Lands puts on a little weight, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

Twilight facehoofed. As no one else knew what on Equus Autumn was talking about, she just said, “It’s what she named her shadow,” and killed that topic of conversation before it could get started. “I’m Twilight Sparkle. I assume this is a zero formalities group, so just Twilight is fine. I’m from Canterlot in Equestria.” Sighing, she added, “I got expelled from magic kindergarten.” There was much laughter and calls for an explanation, but she kept her mouth shut.

Eventually, the group gave up, and the earth pony went next. “I’m Berry Punch. From Ponyville, Equestria.”

Of course she is. I don’t know what I expected. But that did explain why Twilight thought she looked a little familiar.

“I used to be the town drunk. Like, in the most literal sense. Ponyville is just the right size to have a town drunk and for that to be ‘quaint’ and ‘rustic’. I keep my drinking to my dreams now.”

Berry Punch jabbed the probably a breezie, the next in the circle, with an elbow to get him to take his turn.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going already.” That was a very thick accent, but an understandable one. “I’m Seabreeze. I live in Lochranliesh, and I’m allergic to pollen.”

“What? Really?” Twilight blurted out before she could stop herself.

If Seabreeze took any offense, he didn’t show it. “Yeah, I know. It’s a real pain in the wing.”

And now they came to the dragon. “I am Ember–”

Twilight’s eyes snapped to Luna.

“–daughter of Dragon Lord Torch–”

Luna, clearly, had been waiting for just that reaction.

“–the soon to be winner of the upcoming Dragon Trials–”

That insufferable mare had the gall to wink at Twilight.

“–and the next Lord of the Dragons!” The diplomatic disaster waiting to happen finished her self-introduction by spewing a great column of her magenta flame straight up into the sky.

The most ancient dragons were the size of mountains and spent the vast majority of their days hibernating. The fire they breathed in their sleep created the volcanoes and lava pools of the dragon lands. They were the number one reason Celestia had agreed to sign the Alicorn Accords and permanently retire from warfare. She could defeat them, sure, but at what cost? Twilight didn’t want to think of the consequences if the Dragon Lord’s daughter decided to interfere in Equestria’s internal dispute on behalf of a friend.

“Yeah, yeah,” Seabreeze said with a roll of his eyes. “No one here is impressed, Princess. We have an alicorn, an archmage, a loon, a drunkard, and someone who couldn’t care less.”

Berry Punch raised her hoof. “For the record, I’m impressed.”

With a sage nod, Autumn added, “Your fire is getting much stronger. I actually felt it this round.”

The merry crackling in the background and the sharp snap of a support beam gave that statement a little extra context. Rather flatly, Twilight thought to herself, I guess they both burnt down the tavern, then.

“Don’t encourage her!” Seabreeze said.

Looking a little smug now, Ember finished her introduction. “My embarrassing secret is being friends with you equines.”

For that, however, there was much booing and many claims that it didn’t count. Twilight felt it did. It was kind of sweet, really. From what little she knew of the largely anarchic and highly insular culture of the dragon lands, this sort of palling around – never mind O&O – would be a sign of weakness to pounce on and take advantage of. Luna probably knew that, too, as she stepped in and took her own turn to introduce herself.

“I’m Luna. I’m from…well, Everfree was lost to the forest. The moon, then. When Equestria was young and the land untamed, my sister and I tacitly encouraged our apotheosis to better keep order.” She shrugged. “It served its purpose. Anyway, one evening I was walking past an amphitheater when I heard some preaching. Curious to see what was being said, I found a shady area nearby to listen in, but I was noticed and invited up on stage to help reenact some historical events. Everything went well, and I went home with a warm glow. The next night, I discovered that I’d stolen the lead role in a drama.”

The entire group laughed. Even Twilight found herself smiling and snickering.

“I was mortified. After I apologized to the actress meant to play me, I didn’t dare show my face there again for two decades.” Luna glared down at her friends. “As you miscreants should be. How many of my taverns have you destroyed now?”

“Pretty much every one we’ve been to,” Autumn answered without a hint of shame, and it seemed Ember held a similar opinion bordering on a point of pride.

Twilight slipped under Autumn between her legs and then sidled up to Luna. Lowering her voice, she hissed, “You brought me here to foalsit.”

A little illusion of a floating parchment appeared, one apparently only Twilight could see. It purported to be a private message, which reminded her of the ‘quality of life’ features Luna had yet to explain. She assumed this was one of them and read, ‘Do try to keep them from burning the entire campaign to the ground. There’s a backup I can copy over if I ever need to fix something or want to start fresh, but don’t tell them that. Have fun, and remember the golden rule: if you piss off the white mage, you don’t get healed.’

Twilight tried to zap the note with her magic only to remember reality didn’t work as it should in this part of Luna’s dreamscape. Instead, she flailed her hoof at it in the hope of disrupting the magic at work or at least batting it to the ground. The parchment vanished, thankfully, but now she also had everyone’s attention.

Right… Uh… “Shall we get started?”

Twilight blinked. She was back in the hospital again. And she’d just been about to heal Ember, the squishy dragon sorceress who’d picked a fistfight with something more threatening than a marshmallow. Hopefully that turned out well. She suspected it would. Ember was an evocation specialist and had dedicated her entire character growth to that purpose. Worst case scenario, she should be able to burn anything preventing her from running away to ashes.

In other news, I’m awake. Twilight tried to rise, but her body still protested against the action. And still undergoing repair. But she did manage to roll over and make herself more comfortable this time, so progress had been made. Magic? Making the attempt felt like splitting her head open. Nope. But she did manage to focus a little power in her horn. She could cast a spell if she really needed to.

So… Being awake was no fun. But it did answer a question. I guess my consciousness never actually leaves my body when I dreamwalk with Luna. Good to know. She may still be able to trap me if so inclined, but she at least can’t strand me somewhere. That makes me feel marginally more comfortable about this.

Yet that brought up a more important question. Did she want to keep dreamwalking with Luna? It was nice to see Autumn again now that the kirin was a little more put together. Her cousin hadn’t done well in a village of mutes. And she could certainly see the advantage of getting to know Ember, especially if the princess really would become a queen in the coming years. And in all honesty, Twilight had enjoyed herself. Clobbering monsters whose only purpose was to be evil with a mace had been very therapeutic after the past couple weeks she’d been having.

But was it worth the risk? No, not by a long shot.

Not without an ulterior motive of her own.

For whatever reason, be it a distraction, an honest interest, or something more sinister, Luna had offered her hoof in friendship. But friendship, as Twilight understood it, was a double-edged sword. While Luna tried to win enough of her loyalty to grudgingly tolerate her victory and cooperate, Twilight, in turn, could try to win enough of Luna’s to convince her to go talk to her sister and give Celestia a chance to make everything right. She had borne Loyalty. If that virtue remained to her, the idea might very well work. Assuming they got along, that was.

Considering that the Elements of Harmony were by no means guaranteed to be in working order before the solstice, Twilight considered this a good backup plan. If it worked, great. If not, well, it cost her little to attempt. What would she be doing with her time while everypony else but her slept otherwise? Research? While that sounded lovely, it was, sadly, lower priority right now.

But if Twilight was going to do this, she needed to be smart about it. She was going to put herself at serious risk with this plan, so she wanted as big of a safety net as she could provide herself. It was one thing to brave the chimera’s den with shield and spear at the ready and another entirely to strut in with two legs bound looking to wrestle.

Twilight summoned a nurse. With the small scale of the hospital and the time of night, it was a little while before one arrived, but she was in no hurry. In addition to some water and something light but solid to put into her stomach, she asked for a pen or pencil – she doubted she could use a quill right now – and a sheet of parchment.

‘Sun Wisp,’ Twilight wrote after munching on some crackers, ‘I’ve been dreaming of your sister again. We went traveling to see other ponies. I worried about getting home. Who knows what could happen to me out there? But I made it back safe and sound in the end. I think. I wonder if I remember everything properly. Well anyway, do wake me up when you read this. I’d like to talk. Index. P.S. In case I forget to mention it, your sister and Ember are friends.’

That would do just fine. If anypony but Celestia read the letter, it would come off as private but dreadfully mundane. She, however, would see it as the status report it was and recognize the request for regular screenings against mental tampering. Not all mind magics were strictly speaking reversible, but a second round of brainwashing could always undo the damage. While it wasn’t an ideal solution, Twilight was willing to take the risk.

After placing the letter on the table next to her bed, Twilight braced herself for what she had to do next. She needed to ensure Celestia actually got to read the letter. If Twilight woke up with her loyalties flipped before Celestia came to refresh her polymorph, she would destroy the note and pretend nothing was wrong. She couldn’t leave that opportunity open to Luna.

When will my polymorph wear off? Celestia was last here in the evening. I don’t think she cast it on me again at the time, but I should assume she did anyway. At the very latest, then, she’ll be back… Twilight glanced at a clock. –tonight. I need to put myself under until then.

Twilight rolled over, took a deep breath, and bit down on her pillow. She summoned up her magic and forced herself to weave it into a sleep spell. If the spell hadn’t done it’s job, the agony of its creation certainly would have sufficed.

Back in her own dreamscape, Twilight idly flipped through one of the O&O books Luna had dropped off for her earlier, brushing up on the rules. She wasn’t about to stumble through a field of attacks of opportunity again. That had left her more than a little chagrined. When she was done, she was going to know the system inside and out. When she was done, it would be her laying the clever traps that took advantage of the rules. Who would be laughing then?

Maybe she was trying to distract herself a little too hard. Her befriend Luna plan had one necessary element to it which put her on edge even here in her own dreamscape. She truly didn’t wish to test the extent of Luna’s power over dreams if a fight broke out between them. This dreamscape was, after all, her very magic made manifest. That should give anypony who could overcome her natural advantage a direct means to affect her real self, although she knew not how one would go about doing so. That was the trouble with dreams. What was truly real about them? Nothing? Everything?

A light, pleasant chime filled the tower, letting Twilight know she had a visitor. A quick scrying spell, unnecessary but familiar, showed her that Luna had come without company.

Perfect. Twilight snapped her book shut and replaced it upon its shelf as she left her library. She and I need to have a little chat.

Down only a single flight, Twilight found her way into the tavern and left the door open behind her in invitation. She obtained an order of nonalcoholic cider from the barmare just as Luna walked in. She nodded sharply at their table, drink in her magic, and went to sit down. A few moments later, Luna joined her with what looked like an ale of some variety.

“You’re bigger.”

Indeed, Twilight had aged herself up to her normal size. She’d kept the wings, however. “How did Ember’s recklessness turn out?”

“She lost the fight, but her character survived. I subbed in an NPC for you until the battle ended.”

That was more or less how Twilight had expected that to go. “Sorry about dropping out like that.”

“It happens,” Luna said, shrugging. “One of the disadvantages of playing in dreams. We usually give lost players a few minutes to fall back asleep, then check up on them once in a while after that.”

From the sound of it, Twilight had missed the first deadline and, judging by how long she’d had alone here, possibly the second as well. “Are they waiting on us?” It’d still been the middle of the night when she’d put herself into a magically induced coma.

Luna nodded. “They wanted to come over with dreamwarming presents, but I put them off until next time. Too much of a hassle.”

“Dreamwarming… That’s a thing?”

“Of course,” Luna said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It has been for nearly nine centuries now. I thought my sister taught you better manners than that.”

Twilight refused to dignify that with a remark. “We can keep this short, then.” It was time to play her hand. Springing this on Luna at the eleventh hour probably wouldn’t end well for her backup plan.

“Is this about Ember? I do admit her position first drew my attention, but I will not be inviting dragons to rampage across Equestria in my name. I have no interest in becoming the Princess of Ashes.”

“Comforting,” Twilight said dryly, “but not what I wanted to talk about. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to bite my head off.”

In response to the warning, Luna tipped her head back and guzzled down the entirety of her drink. “I’m not going to like this conversation, am I?” When Twilight answered that no, she would not, she ordered another round for herself. “Proceed.”

“Very well.” Twilight steeled herself for her task. “Even if we ended up in a whirlwind romance or some such nonsense over the next…twenty-three days, Celestia will be my priority come the solstice.”

“Obviously,” Luna muttered. “Your point?”

“Whether you believe it or not, Celestia resigned herself to your victory years ago.”

Impatient, Luna asked, “And?” with the kind of annoyed indifference that said that, if this even came as a surprise, it was only right and proper in the face of inevitability.

This was far from the first time Twilight had dealt with snippy negotiators, even if the alicorn involved was usually on her side. She kept her cool and continued, “All efforts to ensure her continued freedom are under my own initiative with her reluctant assistance. I am the threat you need to deal with to ensure your freedom.”

Now Twilight had Luna’s attention. Before tempers could rise, she continued, “I want to make a deal.”

That brought Luna up short. Her eyebrows slowly arched up, and much of the fire in her eyes faded into curiosity and amusement with the puny mortal who considered herself a threat. “What manner of bargain do you seek?”

“In the event that you win, first, secure Celestia however you wish, but treat her with respect. Gloat if you must, but don’t torture her, and leave her mind untouched. Mine as well, of course.”

Luna snorted. “You must think me a monster to request such.”

Anypony could be a monster in anger, and Luna, by her own admission, had a lot of anger. Twilight chose not to comment.

“Second, you allow at least me to visit Celestia, whether that be in person or in dreams.” As Luna made no remark beyond an indifferent hum, Twilight continued, “Third, just in case, rule Equestria properly. No eternal night. No rampaging dragons. No rolling our legal system back. No brainwashing. Nothing of the sort.”

Luna rolled her eyes.

“Lastly, you will help me cast a spell in the future.” It might require as little effort as noninterference, but Twilight would feel much better if she had an alicorn overlooking the process to ensure its success. “I’ve not finished designing it yet. It may take centuries for me to do so, but when it’s done, I will call upon you.”

While there was no way Luna didn’t want to know more about that last condition, she merely nursed her ale with a contemplative look in her eyes. “Curious,” she murmured. Then she set her mug down. “And what do you offer in exchange?”

“Should you win, I will continue to serve as the archmage with the same dedication I showed Celestia. I will also be a zealous advocate for your rule. In addition, in either outcome, I will not reimprison you.”

Twilight had expected disbelief, maybe even laughter, but instead she received a dark look. “So I didn’t imagine it. I felt my faint, lingering connection to Honesty snap only a few days ago.” Luna closed her eyes and breathed out through her nose just loud enough to hear. “But not Loyalty or Laughter. Twenty-three days. You have a mere twenty-three days to find appropriate bearers and teach them to harness the Elements’ might. You offer little that you would not regardless.”

“I ask little,” Twilight countered.

“But do you?”

Before Luna could say anything more, Twilight played her last card. “Yes, yes. My little mystery spell. It might interest you to know we’ve rediscovered world magic in the time you’ve been away.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Celestia doesn’t know this, but I’ve taken the concept a bit further than she has. All of Equus’s ambient magic at the tip of my horn.” Eyes narrowing, she added, “Don’t give me a reason to use it.”

A look of shock erupted onto Luna’s face. It quickly morphed into horror. “This is possible.” It wasn’t a question. She was just trying to wrap her head around the concept. “You’re not lying.”

Twilight spread her wings to their full extent. “I am not an alicorn, and yet I have reason to see myself as one, you said.”

“That you would go so far…” Once the shock wore off, Luna spoke with heavy words. “You truly fear I might be worth the cost.” She grasped her mug with her magic, leaned back, and downed its entire contents. Once it was empty, she let it drop back onto the table. “Very well, Twilight. We have a deal.”

The bargain was struck. The two tapped hooves and shook on it.

Twilight slumped over onto the table. There she let out a relieved sigh, making no attempt to hide what it was now that they were back to pretending to be friends. “I have a new respect for the people who negotiated the Alicorn Accords.”

“Yes, I imagine the experience was much akin to how I felt when facing Discord.”

Oh, she was there for that, wasn’t she? While Twilight had known in some superficial sense, she’d not yet really taken the time to update her understanding of history to account for Luna’s presence. She’d need to find the time for that someday soon.

“Out of curiosity,” Luna began, “if you don’t intend to imprison me, why bother with the Elements?”

As it was hardly an admission of anything – Luna would be a fool to not expect a rainbow to the face upon her return – Twilight replied, “I intend to have six ponies bearing the Elements instead of two. That will give me better control over them to use their gentler settings. Apparently, they have a therapy beam. It can force you to let go of your anger and hurt.”

Luna snorted. With some dry amusement, she said, “And you asked me not to brainwash ponies.”

“Yes, well, I expected Nightmare Moon to bring about eternal night after a thousand years of isolation had shattered her sanity. Instead, I got you.” And now that she’d brought it up, Twilight wondered if the Elements would even have much of an effect on Luna. She had plenty of anger to resolve, certainly, but was that the root of her issues with Celestia? But then perhaps it would heal whatever lingering damage Sombra had inflicted upon her. Maybe that would be enough.

“A delight, I’m sure.”

It was better than the alternative, Twilight could admit.

“You know, I once considered approaching you not long after my sister made you her student.”

Twilight couldn’t help but laugh at the idea. “That would not have worked out for you. I was the worst at that age. Celestia was my impossibly wise mentor with all the answers. I would have driven you mad with my obsequious hero worship.”

“Yes,” Luna acknowledged with a nod. “Hence why I decided against it. But it would have been worth it to receive even half of the genuine devotion you’ve shown her this night.” She sighed, “Oh well,” and then rose to her hooves. “Shall we take our leave?”

“Lead the way.”

One by one, Luna’s friends had woken in the real world and dropped out of the dream. Once Berry Punch and Seabreeze had vanished, she’d called an end to the game for the night. They’d then retired to a classy penthouse in a big city to relax and engage in casual conversation as their last hours of rest dwindled away. The view reminded Twilight a lot of Manehattan, as though it had been created from a memory of a memory. It might very well be part of a full-scale model of Equestria.

Autumn was the last to leave. She performed in evening musical theater and late-night comedy for a living, so it came as no surprise, although Ember had vanished less than an hour prior. Dragon princesses got to sleep in, it seemed.

And then they were alone.

“So how did you enjoy your first session?” Luna asked as she draped herself over a couch.

“It was more enjoyable than I was expecting.” It’d certainly helped that Twilight had already known Autumn. Going in without any familiar faces would have made it much harder to get into the game. “Honestly, I think I actually liked working with a dysfunctional party.”

It’d been a great stress relief to turn off her internal filter. In Canterlot, there was a careful dance Twilight had to perform to only anger those she intended to. In Ponyville, she had to bite her tongue and pretend the village wasn’t driving her insane. But here, she could just speak her mind. Everyone had thick enough skins to take it, give it back, and oftentimes even laugh.

“So is this a nightly thing for you five?”

“Certainly not,” Luna replied. “I would kill myself. Have you ever GMed before?”

Twilight shook her head.

“It is a consuming role. Weekly sessions are reasonable. Anything more than that requires sacrifices and, if the stars align, cooperative players.” Luna rolled over onto her back to gaze upside down out at the drifting clouds. “How long can I expect you here?”

Twilight quirked an eyebrow at the mare who held the keys. “If you don’t want me here, you can escort me out.”

“No, no. I ask only because your sleep has been far more erratic than usual lately.”

“Ah.” That was a fair point. “To be honest, I couldn’t say. Life has been a little frustrating lately, and I landed myself in the hospital during a fit of foalish pique.”

Luna broke out into laughter.

Pointedly ignoring the giggling goddess, Twilight went to investigate one of the bookshelves she’d noticed earlier. She recognized most of the titles on display. Most were popular or cult adventure stories, but some other genres had worked their way in as well. There was even the occasional scientific journal. When she selected a book at random and opened it, she discovered, to some surprise, that it wasn’t just for show. She flipped through the pages, skimming the text, and found that it read more or less as she remembered it.

“Gifts from friends.” Luna’s magic mixed with Twilight’s as she approached. Once they’d passed the book off from one to the other, she opened it to the dedication page and smiled fondly down at the inscription.

‘Nothing we could do would ever repay you for the time you’ve given us together, but we thought you would enjoy this long after we’re gone. Pear Delight and Bellflower Apple.’

“Their families hated each other. They carried on their romance here where nopony could interfere.” Luna smiled ever wider as she replaced the book upon its shelf. “Centuries down the line in your parents’ generation, two of their descendants said enough was enough and married. They would have been so proud.”

Now that sounded more in line with Twilight’s approach to such matters. “Do you know who Cadance is?”

“My niece, your sister-in-law?”

Twilight nodded. “Her relationship with her parents has always been strained. Announcing that she intended to marry a commoner, even the beloved unicorn Captain of the Royal Guard, pushed them over the edge. I was displeased when I heard what things they threatened her with, disownment amongst the lesser offenses. Let’s just say they changed their tune overnight. Nopony knows why.”

The story earned an appraising look from Luna. “I think you and I will be very good friends indeed. Tell me, I hear there was an incident with my nephew as well.”

Just the reminder set Twilight’s blood on fire. Never in her life had she felt so objectified! “Short version or long version?”

“Hmm, long.”

“Okay, so I’ve just come of age. I’m new on the job. Years later when I think to read the EIS’s and Royal Guard’s files on me, I find out there was this massive power struggle going on with young, naive me at the epicenter. This is after years of sabotage attempts I never noticed and even a few thwarted assassinations. Celestia is, of course, fanning the flames at this point by offloading more responsibilities she traditionally performed onto me.

“Then along comes Blueblood. He recognizes early on that I’m not going anywhere. He doesn’t like me, but he knows a tiny fraction of what I could do for him with my magic and entertains wild fantasies that are more realistic than he believes. He has a plan to restore the status quo. He wants to ‘take one for the team’. All that power should remain within the royal family – better yet, out of Celestia’s hooves – and there’s one clear and simple solution.”

When Luna suggested, “Marry Cadance to you?” in jest, Twilight paused in her pacing and wild gesticulations to laugh. She might have actually considered it if Shining had never been in the picture if only to not hurt Cadance’s feelings.

“Hardly. Blueblood’s parents summon mine to a meeting. I don’t even hear about it until the day before when it comes up at dinner while I’m visiting. They have no idea what it’s about, so I tag along. I’d already learned to be wary of the nobility at that point. When we get to their manor, they immediately start firing off passive-aggressive remarks about my presence, which naturally has no effect on me. Soon enough, they’re talking about arranging a marriage between me and their son who’s expressed his interest.

“So there I am, confused, kind of flattered, and uninterested. When I politely decline, they tell me it’s not my place to decide such things. Not my place! As if I’m chattel to be traded away. As if, once married, I would become a biddable, pliant creature. As if I would meekly raise my tail and consent to be raped. As if anypony had the leverage over me necessary to make me comply. As if–”

Twilight abruptly awoke coughing and sputtering, frigid and wet. The first sight that met her eyes was Celestia in her Sun Wisp form with her infernal bucket. It’d been the worst mistake of Twilight’s life to unwittingly help her with its design. And it’d already refilled itself as she pulled back for another–

“Wait, wait, wait!” Twilight quickly interjected, forehooves held up in supplication. “I’m calm. I’m calm.” She breathed deeply, turning her thoughts to the far more satisfying conclusion to her story. She watched her white coat fade back into butterscotch. “See?”

Convinced by the evidence, Celestia returned the bucket to her bag of holding. “Even when dreamwalking,” she began, gesturing to the letter Twilight had left her nearby, “you remain a creature of fire. Do keep that temper of yours under control.”

Twilight said nothing as Celestia cast a spell to dry the mess she’d made nor while she repaired the burnt pillow and sheets. When she added a little warming spell, however, Twilight said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Did Lulu set you off?”

“No,” Twilight said reassuringly. “I was telling her about the Blueblood incident.” In hindsight, that probably hadn’t been a good idea. She knew how she tended to react to that story.

And so did Celestia. “Ooh, did you get to the part where you scream ‘I am magic’ in a fiery rage?”

Twilight cleared her throat, embarrassed, and glanced away. “Uh, no, that was still a ways off.”

“A shame. That’s the best part.” Celestia chuckled, and Twilight chose not to comment. Then her expression softened. “How are you feeling?”

As her body hadn’t screamed in protest at her earlier, Twilight felt confident to say she could walk around as she wished. Indeed, when she experimented, she found she could finally move again with only a little trouble. Her magic still refused to play nice, but attempting a small levitation spell didn’t knock her out. Ultimately, she concluded, “One more night here, I think. Then I’ll be free.”

“Just be careful not to strain yourself,” Celestia said. Her lips parted to continue, but no words came out. Twilight waited patiently until she eventually asked, “How is Luna?”

Twilight didn’t think she’d spent enough time with Luna yet to really know, but she could at least share her first impressions. Although mixed, she expected what positives she could speak of would do Celestia a world of good. “Angry, pent-up, and frustrated, but she seems to be making the best of it. She had entire shelves of books from friends who took the time to transcribe them from reality into the dream world.”

That received an unwarranted indulgent smile with an equally unfair roll of the eyes. It took dedication to faithfully recreate a book hundreds of pages long from memory. If Twilight had the social drive to make friends and they’d given her gifts like that, she would display them prominently in her home as well.

“Please tell me she didn’t steal you away from me with a few books.”

Twilight huffed indignantly.

“And that you did something besides read.”

While she wasn’t sure if she should answer if she was going to face such accusations, Twilight said, “I’ll have you know that we played O&O with her friends. It was fun.” She really couldn’t deny that. “Your sister is a complete nerd.”

The observation put an amused smirk on Celestia’s face.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Takes one to know one.”

Celestia, in her mercy, chose not to poke fun. Instead, she said, “Tell me about Luna’s friends.”

“Well, there’s Ember, of course. She’s angling to become the next Dragon Lord. She’s…interesting. Brash and reckless, but she seems like the kind of friend who will be there at a call to arms. I doubt we’re going to have a problem with the dragons anytime soon, but Equestria can probably expect better relations with them in the future if Luna is around.” And much worse ones, of course, if Twilight had to banish Luna again or if anything else went wrong.

“Unlike Ember, Berry Punch is a total nopony. A local, actually. Luna apparently helped her with her drinking problem. She woke up first, so I didn’t get that good of a read on her.

“Seabreeze is a breezie. I think he’s kind of frustrated with and about his species. I mean, I don’t blame him. The world isn’t really breezie accessible. He has about as much patience for foolishness as I do but puts up with his friends’ antics and sometimes gets sucked into them.”

Twilight paused a moment. “Then there was Autumn.”

Just as surprised as Twilight had been, Celestia said, “Autumn Blaze? The kirin?”

“Yeah. What are the chances?” Even after some time to consider it, Twilight thought Luna genuinely hadn’t known about their relation or even acquaintance. “Those four are the only people I met, but they seem nice and get on well with Luna.”

Smiling softly, Celestia said, “Tell me about the O&O game you played.”

Twilight felt she should rather tell Celestia that she had more important things to do than listen to tabletop tales, but one look at those longing eyes put paid to any chance of that happening. This would be the first real story of her sister she’d had in nearly a thousand years, after all.

“All right, well, I joined up with the party right after they’d gotten into a bar fight…”

It was near noon the next day when Twilight finally managed to convince her caretakers to allow her to check out against medical advice. In this instance, and partially because she’d withheld information, she was more qualified to judge her own health. Her body felt fine. Her magic responded to her command. She was ready to get back to work. She’d have to take some time later to test if her experiment had been a success, but she’d already lost four days. Even if Celestia made the solstice wait for her, time itself waited for nopony; Luna’s banishment would still run its course.

After she recast her subspace storage, Twilight set about putting her things back into it. Sweetie Belle had, in fact, managed to obtain every last piece of paper, parchment, and even all the loose note cards she generated from day to day with her magic. She’d have to ask her possible protégé to retrieve them for her soon.

As she neared the end of her packing, she checked off the last of the items she kept in her bag of holding – all of them except for two of the Elements of Harmony. Kindness and Generosity were missing. Twilight was, in all honesty, a little peeved. She’d been twice as productive as a lump on a bed than she had been while actively searching for bearers. Sure, she could try to defend herself, saying that she was looking for ponies she could get along with, but she knew how that approach had turned out.

Then again, perhaps Pinkie Pie took them to work on the mission. As that was a little less embarrassing, Twilight chose to believe that until confronted with evidence to the contrary.

On the way out, the hospital staff supplied a full list of everypony they knew of who’d been in Twilight’s ward upon request. If she needed to hunt down the Elements, she’d start with that list. If that failed, then in the worst case scenario, she’d just go to the Old Castle and use Magic to summon them back to her. Then she could run a cutie mark search through the EIS to find out who’d bonded with them. If they weren’t still inert spheres, that was.

Twilight took her first breath of fresh air in days as she stepped out the hospital’s front doors. Ponyville had changed a lot over the few days she’d been out. Construction for the festival proceeded apace as the solstice drew ever nearer. She briefly wondered what the village would look like both when the millennial Summer Sun Celebration went into full swing and after it’d ended. It was sure to leave it’s mark.

All right, what do I need to do first?

There were four people who required interviewing, three whose locations Twilight knew offhoof, but that would keep. Luna’s friends weren’t going anywhere, and no matter what they told her, it wouldn’t really change her own course of action. If Celestia wanted information sooner, something Twilight doubted she had the interest to pursue, she could do so herself.

I could track down the missing Elements. That was important. If they’d obtained bearers, Twilight would need to introduce herself.

There were the documents Sweetie Belle had in her possession. Less important, but quickly done and perhaps higher priority.

Index needed to be seen up, about, and actually doing her job. It was practically of no importance, but Twilight knew she should probably get updates on how the festival was going and see if Ponyville needed any assistance. She hadn’t exactly left an alternative point of contact with the crown when she put herself in the hospital.

Then there was the request Twilight had made of Rarity. She could actually combine that with verifying her experiment’s success. Making thaumic thread was magically taxing and would thus be a good stress test for her. She knew exactly how much magic she was supposed to have. If all had gone well, she should have more now.

Lastly, there was the matter of Sunset Shimmer.

Twilight sighed. She knew what she should do first lest she make excuses to put it off. Finding a shady spot, she dropped her disguise, prepared for what would hopefully not turn into a combat mission, and teleported away.

Author's Notes:

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Revision Notes - July 10th (2020)

Chapter Ten - The Great and Powerful

It was a hard limit no matter how one looked at it, no matter what games one played. There was nothing more to be done. Not without a live research subject.

The massive structure of Gladmane Resort towered in front of Twilight in the heart of Las Pegasus. As she made her way inside, disguised as a nondescript purple unicorn with a changeling at her side guiding her to her destination, she felt a mild tingle in her magic when the resort’s lesser wards descended upon her. They were meant to prevent cheating, theft, and identity fraud, but they could only stop the more run-of-the-mill criminal. She walked through them unfazed, and she knew Sunset Shimmer would barely bother to notice their presence.

It took but minutes to find Sunset on the casino floor. The mare currently had the figure of a model fit to rival even Fleur de Lis, who much of Equestria considered the pinnacle of feminine beauty amongst mortal ponies. She was rather shamelessly schmoozing with the owner of the resort, Gladmane himself, at a craps table with the kind of vapid fawning that made stallions drop their guard around pretty mares for reasons Twilight would never understand. It was kind of impressive, in a way, a feat Twilight knew she’d never be able to replicate. Over the years she’d spent covering for the mare, she’d found Sunset had a real gift for wrapping ponies around her hoof and bending them to her will. It was a darker brand of manipulation than the style Celestia employed, but it remained equally effective nonetheless.

Twilight was half tempted to sit back and watch Sunset work, but she had a lot to do today. Thus she bid goodbye to her guide and approached the table. The crowd was thick enough that she had to push her way forward to get close enough to be heard without using a little magic that the casino might frown heavily upon. It would ruin the clandestine nature of this visit if she had to deal with security.

Sunset, on the other hoof, noticed immediately when Twilight approached. Their eyes met for the first time in over twenty years. Sunset showed no signs of recognition, but she offered an acknowledging nod to a peer in the magical arts. When Twilight jerked her head to the side, a silent request to speak in private, Sunset sunk into thought for a few seconds. The crowd around her erupted into cheers over the latest roll of the dice without her. Perhaps that, to explain her sudden growth of a brain capable of thought as much as anything else, resulted in her excusing herself for a visit to the powder room.

After a few moment’s to not make their departure together too obvious, Twilight left to follow after Sunset at a distance. A quick slip inside a bathroom allowed the latter to change her appearance to a much more subtle and fit look. With that done, Twilight converged with her path and fell into step beside her.

“If we’re going to fight, we should take this outside the city,” were the first words out of Sunset’s mouth.

“I sincerely hope it doesn’t come to that,” Twilight replied in full honesty. “But perhaps somewhere we can discuss sensitive matters?”

Without hesitation, Sunset replied, “I don’t take clients.”

“And I’m not asking. I just want to talk.”

“About what?” Sunset shot right back.

While there was some small chance Sunset had stolen Luna’s crown on her behalf, Twilight doubted it. Sunset had authority issues. And she had, after all, just declared that she didn’t take clients. Thus Twilight replied, “The alicorn you stole from.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” If Twilight didn’t know better, she would have believed Sunset. “Only fools and the desperate steal from Celestia.”

“Not her. The other one.”

Sunset paused in her stride. Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “All right. I know a place. Follow me.”

The pair walked through a series of enclosed walkways between casinos in silence, Sunset leading the way. A tram system ran throughout the city, and as it turned out, she took them to one of its stations. It had no wards active over it and almost nopony present. There was a shuttered concession stand on the platform, fully enclosed by walls. She casually picked the lock on the door as she walked toward it, pretended to insert a key once they arrived, and then entered with Twilight right behind her.

Privacy wards went up immediately, and Sunset demanded, “Who sent you?” without missing a beat.

“It’s nice to see you again, too, Eventide.” Twilight wasn’t able to keep the sarcasm entirely out of her voice.

“Who?”

“Twenty-three years ago,” Twilight prompted. “The Summer Sun Celebration in Canterlot. You were probably lying low after stealing something. Remember me? The little lost filly?”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. She snorted. “Twilight Sparkle. It took you long enough to find me. Sunbutt must have let her standards slip after I left.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. Slowly so as not to provoke Sunset, she pulled out a small pile of evidence from her bag of holding and tossed it onto the counter nearby. “That’s everything the EIS never found that would connect you with the legendary lady thief, Eclipse.”

With no small amount of caution, Sunset moved to inspect the pile. As Twilight had documented everything before putting it into storage, she didn’t have to offer any explanations. It didn’t take long before skepticism turned into self-recrimination for carelessness. Rather unsurprisingly, Sunset chose to destroy the entire collection. Not that it mattered. None of it would have ever seen the light of day.

“Fine. I take back what I said. Now what’s your game?”

“Look,” Twilight began, a little frustrated. She’d known getting Sunset to actually talk to her wouldn’t be easy, but was the hostility absolutely necessary? She thought not. “I know you must not like me anymore and that, well, I’m sort of law enforcement, but can we just… I’m perfectly content to let you run around stealing from rich scum the law can’t prosecute. I only need Luna’s crown back. Her banishment is ending soon, so, you know…”

Sunset wore a distinctly unimpressed look upon her face. “Nightmare Moon doesn’t deserve a crown.”

“Okay, point of order. She’s identifying as Luna right now.” That probably hadn’t helped as much as Twilight had thought it would in her head. “Anyway, I made a deal with her–”

A warning shot fired from Sunset’s horn, sizzling past Twilight’s ear. “You’re plotting against Celestia?”

“No! She–” Twilight couldn’t honestly say she’d told Celestia about the bargain she’d struck with Luna, because that would inevitably involve lying to avoid spilling all of her secrets before she was ready, and she wasn’t nearly good enough at that to fool Celestia of all ponies. “Can I just explain the whole situation without you ready to blast me at a single wrong word?”

After a second or two, the glow of power at the tip of Sunset’s horn dimmed and faded away entirely. “You’d better not try to lie to me.”

Twilight gave the abridged version of the story to Sunset. She certainly didn’t need to know everything, but she obviously knew enough already that Twilight didn’t mind filling in the blanks to get her on the same page. When pressed on the details of her agreement with Luna, Twilight merely summarized it as preventing the worst case scenario and ensuring Celestia would have a lifeline if she failed to defeat Luna.

“A friendship laser,” Sunset muttered to herself. She scoffed. “No wonder Sunbutt was always going on about making friends.”

Amused at the reaction, Twilight asked, “Not for you?”

“Hmph. I have better things to be doing.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” Although that did bring up a more serious question. “What are you doing? I mean, the lady thief shtick is sure to get at least a few books, but what’s your endgame? Fame and fortune? Spiting Celestia?”

Sunset considered Twilight with a measuring look. “Eh, why not? You going to keep helping me from the shadows even if I tell you to get lost?”

“Probably,” Twilight admitted.

There again was that calculating look from sharp eyes and a sharper mind that missed nothing. “Why?”

“Gratitude, I suppose.” It was hard to sum up exactly what she felt for her first mentor. Gratitude. Admiration. Disappointment. Loss. Renewed respect. Relief to know she had a peer. Maybe even a hint of infatuation once. “I know you probably don’t want to hear it, but you changed my life forever. Meeting you set me on the path that led me to where I am today. The words you shared with me ultimately gave me my son. Your fallout with Celestia forced her to reflect on her behavior and adopt a drastically different approach with me. It certainly doesn’t hurt that you’re performing invaluable services for the crown even if they’re for personal benefit and not strictly speaking legal.”

Sunset’s face was a mask of stone paired with an icy glare lurking just beneath the surface.

“You asked,” Twilight said rather weakly in her own defense. None of that had been by any means untrue nor delivered with any malice, but she probably couldn’t have rubbed salt in the wound any harder if she’d tried. “I… I won’t pretend I can fix everything or…whatever, but I can mediate between you and Celestia.” That didn’t seem to help one bit. Shoulders slumped, she added, “The offer is there if you ever want it.”

“My relationship with her is none of your business.”

“Right…” sighed Twilight in resignation. She’d always nursed the unlikely hope to have Sunset return to the castle. Celestia was great, but it would be nice to have another mind around with whom she could really talk magic. But as she’d always known, that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon, if ever.

Despite her now dark mood, however, Sunset chose to answer the question Twilight had originally posed. “The Crystal Empire will return in a few years. I’m going to boot the usurper king who led them to ruin off his throne and take it for myself. The wealth I’m accumulating I intend to inject into its economy to get the place up and running again.”

The longer Twilight considered it, the more she thought it wasn’t actually that bad of a plan. Since Celestia had suggested giving the throne to Cadance, she figured as far as the empire was concerned, their royal line was either dead or, at best, so far removed from their culture and traditions as to lack legitimacy. But a hero empress? One who’d expended her own vast wealth to restore the empire? That would easily lend itself to a new social contract.

“You know, Cadance’s line are the legitimate heirs,” Twilight said without a hint of reprimand.

Sunset snorted and rolled her eyes. “Little Cadey isn’t going to challenge me for the throne even if she wanted it. She’s long since put down roots here.” A rather bitter and muttered, “With your family,” followed.

Even Twilight knew when not to step on explosive runes. She swiftly said, “No, but her parents probably will.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what I have you for. Keep them from barking too loudly, and they won’t have to find out how hard I bite.” Sunset chuckled rather darkly. “Unless Cadance wants me to. I have been meaning to rob them blind now that she isn’t dependent on them. I could always take it a little further.”

“Uh, I’m sure Cadance appreciates the sentiment, but…”

“Yeah, I know.” Sunset muttered something too quiet to hear. “I need to get back to Gladmane before he starts wondering what I’m up to. He’s at the center of a massive financial scheme, if you’re wondering. Real class act. Nothing strictly illegal, but well deserving of his fate. It should come crumbling down after I empty his coffers.”

“Good to know. And Luna’s crown?”

Sunset pursed her lips. If it had been anything else, any less a prize or any less something to hold over Celestia, perhaps she wouldn’t have been so reluctant to part with it. But then Twilight wouldn’t be asking to begin with.

“You can have the useless thing back,” Sunset finally said. “I’ll retrieve it after I deal with Gladmane and stop by…Ponyville, was it? Maybe we can talk magic or something then.”

Without even a goodbye, much less waiting for a response, Sunset teleported away and took her leave. That hadn’t been a real offer of friendship, Twilight knew. Sunset still understandably hated her for what she represented and probably intended to use her for all she was worth, but she would take the gesture for what it purported to be for now. Maybe someday when Sunset was in a better place emotionally, things would change.

After taking down the privacy wards and locking the door, Twilight, too, teleported away, leaving behind no evidence that either of them had ever been there.

Without fanfare, Twilight appeared in the middle of Ponyville for the first time as herself. She’d just returned from the Peaks of Peril – a relatively minor detour on her way back – where she’d joined Autumn for a late lunch. It hadn’t been at all difficult to nudge Autumn into talking about Luna, although she hadn’t really had anything important to share beyond the names of a few more ponies she’d met in her dreams.

Now it was time to pay Berry Punch a visit and hear her story if she was willing to tell it. Twilight just had to find out where she was without any means of tracking her. Pinkie Pie probably knew and would be much easier to locate, but Twilight really didn’t need a tag along or the trouble of asking her to leave.

Nopony noticed Twilight as she set out, a state of affairs that lasted for about three seconds. There was no shortage of stray ponies wandering around who’d since taken notice of the new face in town. She recognized a few from Pinkie Pie’s rapid fire introductions during her welcome to Ponyville party while all of them recognized her. The hushed whispers between ponies who thought themselves out of earshot, not counting on Twilight’s enhanced hearing, grew in number. As knowledge of her presence swept through the streets, ponies parted before her like she had the plague and feigned disinterest in the least convincing manner possible.

For the first time in her life, Twilight chose to actively listen in on the inane buzz of conversation in the background. Even with Pinkie Pie correcting a misconception she had about the populace, the rumors and pointless nonsense generated from so little information still surprised her.

“See, it is her. Just look at the cutie mark.”

“What’s she doing in Ponyville?”

“Dear Celestia, my brother is going to just die when he hears.”

“Maybe she’s here to find a lover away from Canterlot politics. It could even be me.”

“Do you think we can talk to her?”

“I thought she’d be taller. You know, like the princess.”

“I hear it’s a secret rendezvous.”

“She doesn’t sign autographs. I remember that very distinctly from the last Summer Sun Celebration.”

“She’s here for a tryst? Does Princess Celestia know?”

“That’s what I heard too.”

“Maybe they have one of those…arrangements.”

“There might be room for one more.”

More and more ponies gathered at the periphery as the news spread, all too timid, or nervous, or scared, or something to approach. While that suited Twilight just fine for her purpose, she still facehoofed at the narrative the gossip seemed intent on converging toward.

Why is it that I’m supposedly having a secret love affair while two-timing Celestia, a relationship I also haven’t made public? Honestly! If I were here for a tryst behind an alicorn’s back, I should think it utterly obvious that nopony would ever know I was here.

Shaking her head, Twilight eyed the crowd and then singled out a random earth pony with a point of her hoof before gesturing for him to approach. It seemed the easiest way to actually ask for directions. After he questioningly pointed at himself, he drew near with a mix of concern and possibly excitement, if she were reading him right.

“What can I do for you, Archmage Twilight Sparkle, Your Excellency, Ma’am?”

“I appear to be lost. I’m looking for Berry Punch. Could you give me directions?”

“Rarity! Sweetie Belle! Quit all your froufrou nonsense and get down here already!” called Applejack from the first floor of the Carousel Boutique.

Upstairs in her room, Sweetie Belle was rearranging her favorite saddlebags, the ones with her idol’s cutie mark stitched into the sides. Rarity had made them for her as a birthday present a few years ago, and they’d seen more than their fair share of wear since. At the moment, they contained the sphere she’d borrowed from Index with, she swore, complete intention to return. Also in the bags were a few loose bits, several medical implements in case of intense crusading, two decks of playing cards, and a small selection of assorted sweets. Unfortunately, no matter how she rearranged the contents, she couldn’t find a way to make it any less obvious that she had a big, bulky sphere in her saddlebags.

With a sigh, Sweetie Belle gave up. She just had to accept her current arrangement. Thus she left her room behind and headed downstairs, her saddlebags draped across her back. There she found Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash waiting in various stages of impatience. They were to see one of the more popular entertainers who’d arrived in town early today, and the sneak peek performance started soon.

“Finally!” Rainbow Dash said. “What kept you?”

“I was just packing my bags.”

“What do you need saddlebags for?” Rainbow Dash asked, no less exasperated for the explanation. The two other Crusaders eyed the spherical bulge and looked at each other, sending some silent message between them. “We’re just going to town square to see a show.”

“Well…” Sweetie Belle began, trying to hide her unease as she fumbled for an excuse. “You never know what could happen with us around.”

“You can say that again, sugarcube. Now what’s keeping Rarity?”

Rarity picked that exact moment to appear. “Oh, be patient, you two,” she said as she walked down the stairs. “Just because you choose to look like a country bumpkin doesn’t mean that the rest of us must as well. There is always time to be fashionably late.”

Sweetie Belle turned around to look at her sister. Despite all of the lessons Rarity had drilled into her, beyond the sun hat, she still couldn’t see the difference between Rarity’s current appearance and her usual one – if there was any. The only real change Sweetie Belle had noticed in her sister lately hadn’t been physical at all. After returning from Sweet Apple Acres, Rarity had practically shaken her down for Spike and Flurry’s letter, but once she’d read it, Rarity hadn’t pressed for details, stuck her nose in where it wasn’t wanted, or even commented. It’d been so unlike her, but Sweetie Belle had decided not to risk her escape by pursuing the matter further.

“Well, now that we’re finally all here,” Applejack deadpanned, “let’s get going.”

With impatient assent from the other three non-unicorns, the group of six exited the store and headed out into the outer edge of Ponyville’s commercial district. As usual for this part of town, it being filled with specialty shops, the streets were relatively quiet. Besides the shop owners and those just passing through, only a few ponies would make their way here on any given day when in need. However, as they entered into Ponyville proper, the distinct lack of ponies became troubling.

“All right, something is going on here. I’ll be hog tied and dipped in butter before that Trixie pony draws the entire town to her show.”

Rainbow Dash shot skyward at Applejack’s words leaving only an, “I’ll see what’s up,” behind her.

“I reckon it’s about time we had another disaster,” Applejack mumbled. She watched Rainbow Dash fly off toward the opposite side of town for a few seconds before eying the Crusaders. “There was your last tree sap incident, I suppose, but it’s been a couple weeks since our last infestation or monster attack.”

“Oh, those parasprites were simply dreadful.”

“And so were them vampire fruit bats in my orchard before that,” Applejack added.

Scootaloo chimed in with, “And the ursa minor.”

“Not to mention the dragon,” Apple Bloom added.

Not wanting to be left out, Sweetie Belle said, “Or that incident with Zecora.”

The two adults in their group cringed.

“Right…” Applejack said uneasily. “The point is, we’re due for something soon.”

A rainbow blur slammed onto the ground and kicked up a cloud of dust. This was, of course, nothing unusual, so nopony reacted beyond a brief welcome back for the last member of their group and an inquiry as to what was going on.

“Well, it doesn’t look like trouble,” Rainbow Dash replied. “There’s the crowd waiting for the show, and then there’s another one across town outside Berry Punch’s house.”

Curious, Applejack asked, “Why would anypony be gathering there? Did she dip into her own brew again or something?”

“Doubt it. I couldn’t get a consistent answer out of anypony. Soon as I got one, everypony started shouting over each other with ‘the truth’. My best guess is she’s having a threesome with Minuette and the archmage of all ponies while Berry Pinch watches.”

“Such nonsense,” Rarity mumbled as Applejack said, “Not in front of the foals, Dash!”

Said foals already knew the answer, naturally, as curious children were wont to, but Apple Bloom still asked, “Sis, what’s a threesome?” with far too innocent an expression.

Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle smothered their laughter behind hooves as Applejack shifted her eyes in desperation. Neither Rainbow Dash, who found this equally amusing, nor Rarity came to her rescue. Eventually, she went with, “If you have to ask, you’re not old enough to know.”

While this happened, Rarity mumbled, “Strange. I wonder what she’s doing with Berry Punch.”

Sweetie Belle’s ears perked up. “What do you mean?”

The question attracted Rainbow Dash’s attention. “Huh? You know something about this?”

“Ah… Just a little bit, darling. I’m not sure if Her Excellency would want me to say.”

“Wait, so the archmage is really here in Ponyville?”

Rarity nodded in response to Rainbow Dash’s question. Seeing that, Sweetie Belle bolted off from the rest of the group before anything more could be said.

Although Twilight had already eaten lunch with Autumn, she certainly hadn’t been about to say no to fresh oatmeal cookies. This had been the ideal moment in time to pay a visit to Berry Punch. She might even ask for the recipe on the way out. She might not be much of a cook, but baking was basically chemistry, and Spike’s birthday was coming up in a few moons. Maybe if I added some gemstones to the dough. Hmm…

Berry Punch and her friend – Marefriend? They’re awfully touchy with each other – Minuette sat across the table with Berry Pinch, the former’s unicorn daughter, adjacent to Twilight. She’d subtly scooted her chair closer and closer whenever she reached for another cookie. Twilight had noticed, of course, but hadn’t said anything. Apparently, she was a fan with an adventure streak inherited from her Aunt Cherry Berry.

“You know,” Minuette began, “for the longest time, I thought it was all just a side effect from the withdrawal. I mean, ‘dreaming of a moon goddess’? One nopony had ever heard of, even. Sounds pretty far-fetched.”

Twilight smiled into a bite of her cookie as Berry Punch engaged in what was probably a flirtatious denial. It did sound absurd from that point of view. “Personally,” she said, “I had advance notice of Luna’s existence and basic training in dream magic, and even then I was skeptical. I had to fact check with Celestia before I really believed it was her.”

“Kinda like hearing ‘the archmage’ is in the dining room,” Minuette said.

A frown grew on Twilight’s face as she understood the meaning. “Are impostors of me such a common problem?”

Berry Punch shrugged. “It’s like when you get one of those letters saying Princess Celestia needs your help to settle a new barony.” She paused halfway to a bite of delicious oatmeal. “Er, I suppose they don’t send those sorts of things to you, do they?”

“No, not at all. And besides, that kind of micromanagement isn’t really–”

The front door slammed open a few rooms away. “Berry Pinch!” Then came the pounding sound of little hooves. “Where is she?”

Twilight took the privacy spells she’d erected – she’d drawn far too much attention from nosy ponies not to cast them – down with an inward chuckle. I wonder what took her so long. With the gossip spreading as fast as it was, I expected her a lot sooner.

From Twilight’s side, Berry Pinch giggled and replied, “We’re in the dining room!”

Within seconds, Sweetie Belle thundered into the room, her saddlebags thumping in time to her step against her sides, and locked onto Twilight. It seemed, at first, that she wasn’t entirely prepared for this moment, but then she broke from her timid spell. She pranced in place, saying, “Oh my gosh!” over and over again until she finally mastered her excitement enough to speak words of substance. “I’ve always wanted to meet you! I’m Sweetie Belle, and I’m your number one fan in the whole world and everything beyond it! Was that you at the hospital yesterday? If so, I guess I’ve already met you, but not really met you met you!”

Twilight’s eyebrows rose slightly at the utter lack of poise in Sweetie Belle’s words and her reversion to a more rural accent. Well, Rarity, you tried your best, I guess. The next thing Twilight noticed was her saddlebags. They had Twilight’s starburst on them – which was a little annoying, but she didn’t have her own cutie mark yet, so whatever – and, more importantly, an oddly spherical bulge on one side.

That’s an Element, right? It had to be. Sweetie Belle had even had permission to rummage around in Twilight’s things. But why did she take it if it hasn’t awakened for her? It’s just a rock otherwise with a gem inside it. Strange. A thought occurred. Unless…

“Hello, Sweetie Belle. Sun Wisp wasn’t me in disguise, but I have heard stories about you.” As she said this, Twilight quickly and carefully cast a few illusions, several miscellaneous wards, and conjured a thin, rigid metal shell around the Element of roughly the same weight. At the same time, she teleported the now invisible Element out into the open. A light bump against Sweetie Belle turned it into a necklace much like Honesty. The centerpiece gem had a violet shade and a generic Equestrian cut likely due to its bearer’s lack of a cutie mark.

Twilight sat flabbergasted and howled with laughter inside. She didn’t touch it! She actually didn’t touch it! Days of temptation, and she never once touched it! Just because I told her not to. It took some impressive willpower to resist the call that long. I think I’ll just put this back and watch the fireworks. If Celestia could be a secret prankster, then she could too.

The sudden hesitance Sweetie Belle wore on her face as she tried to find the courage to say or ask something, however, sparked a realization in Twilight.

I just signed up a foal to fight an alicorn, didn’t I? She had. Ponyfeathers. Which Element did she get? Twilight plucked the dropped label from the floor. Double ponyfeathers. Of course it just had to be the most addictive Element.

“Um… I – I have a question. If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Ask away,” Twilight said as she continued silently berating herself.

“How many spells do you know?”

Oh, that’s a tax on the memory. With only one shot to get this right, Twilight thought back to what she’d said to Sweetie Belle when they’d first met. If she remembered correctly, it went something like, “I don’t know. How are you counting spells?”

Seeing Sweetie Belle’s reticent expression bloom into a bright smile, Twilight breathed out a sigh of relief. She’d at least gotten that right. Maybe she could make this mess work. “While you’re here, do you know if your sister will be in her boutique in, say, a half-hour?” They needed to talk.

Clearly confused, Sweetie Belle cocked her head to the side and asked, “My…sister?”

“You are Rarity’s little sister, are you not?”

Now that she’d calmed down a bit, Sweetie Belle’s faux Canterlot accent – still a little grating on the ear for somepony actually from there – snapped back at the reminder of her sister. “Yes, I am. But why do you ask?”

“I commissioned her to make something for me, and I had to leave last we met before she could take my measurements.” Twilight figured she could also take the opportunity to generate some thaumic thread for Rarity to practice with and at the same time verify if she’d succeeded in giving herself a higher magical capacity. “I plan to stop by to address that while I’m in town if she’s available.”

Bringing her jaw – which had nearly detached itself in surprise – back into line with the rest of her face, Sweetie Belle answered, “I-I really don’t know what to say. This will make Rarity’s season – no, year – if not her entire career! She should be…with me…in town square. Oh, ponyfeathers.”

Twilight arched an eyebrow at Sweetie Belle’s sudden change in demeanor. “What’s going on in Ponyville’s town square?”

Berry Punch, who had been watching their interaction with amusement, replied, “One of the showponies for the Summer Sun Celebration is putting on a preview performance. I think her name was Trixie.”

“Trixie?” This is what Twilight got for not paying Amethyst Star a visit for updates on the festival before taking care of other business. “She’s the one act that I actively want to see. When does she start?”

“Probably ten minutes ago.”

Nearly instantly building up the power for a teleport, Twilight disappeared from the table only to return a few seconds later after remembering that she had company. “Do any of you want to come with?”

After a moment’s delay at the abruptness of it all, each pony nodded her assent.

Lights!

Ponyville town square descended into a magical darkness, blotting out the midday sun and blinding everypony in the massive crowd. Slowly, an ominous, blue glow grew from the floor of the stage. The velvet curtains slowly parted to the sides, revealing an inky blackness that seemed to go on forever.

Atmosphere!

From the streets leading to the square where the crowd had gathered, a thick fog rolled in toward the stage. It hung low to the ground, just high enough to be off-putting but not vision-obstructing. When it reached the stage, the blue lighting became hazy and diluted.

Showtime!

From the sky, a flurry of solid colors streaked towards center stage in wide, graceful arcs, collecting into a swirling pack of colorful wisps. The vortex grew into a blinding white light. Then it abruptly died out only for a wave of chilly air to replace it. The fog blew away and curled up upon itself at the edge of a magical boundary, but it’d already begun to slide back into the audience like an avalanche in slow motion.

Once the tension had built in the silence, a burst of brilliant azure fire erupted from the stage. In its wake, a figure could be seen as a hazy outline. Blue against blue, it stepped forward. If one peered closely through the fog, its pointed hat and cape appeared as though a portion of the night sky had been ripped from the heavens and sewn into their form.

“Ponyville!” Trixie’s voice resounded everywhere at the same volume. “You have called, and I have answered. I am. The Great. And Powerful. Trixie!”

The stage spotlights snapped on, centered on their star. The roar of the crowd entirely drowned out the fireworks in the sky that accompanied the introduction. For a moment, Trixie basked in the adulation. This was what she lived for. But better still were cheers properly earned for her displays of magnificence.

Trixie extended an arm. At its invitation, her trusted companion leapt into her grasp. The long staff assembled itself piece by piece from its component parts into its full form. The silver rods that made up its shaft came first. The decorative pedestal at its upper end followed, and then came the magical core of the artifact. Two sapphires, one cut in the shape of a crescent moon and the other a smaller star hovered at the top of the staff, the star inside the moon. It’d been a long, laborious process to redesign the device to mesh with the image she wanted to present to the world, but it’d been worth it.

“Ready at your command.”

With a nod, Trixie slammed the butt of her staff to the stage floor. A short downburst swept out and chased away the fog for good this time. It was time to begin.

“Are you ready to see some magic?”

The crowd roared its approval.

“Magic that will amaze and astound your mere mortal minds?”

The crowd cried ever louder.

“Magic that would shame even the archmage herself?”

The crowd’s cheers reached their peak without magical assistance. Then, as if summoned, Trixie felt a surge of familiar magic at the back of her audience. A group of ponies teleported in, and in their midst stood Twilight Sparkle. A scrying spell gave Trixie a better view. She had two mares and two fillies with her as well as a small pile of cookies on a plate floating nearby. She looked directly at the scrying spell and rolled her hoof in a circle while casually taking another bite of her snack.

“Twilight Sparkle,” Trixie muttered, forgetting that her magic still cast her voice out across the crowd. A buzz of whispers filled the square as ponies glanced around either confused or focusing their attention on the wrong mare. There was nothing for it now but to pretend she’d meant to head down this route. She pointed a spotlight at Twilight Sparkle at the very back of the crowd and demanded, “What are you doing here?”

Although she sighed, Twilight Sparkle answered, “I’m just here to watch your performance. Nothing more.”

Trixie ground her teeth. “I suppose you think I should feel honored by that?”

“No?”

“Do you honestly think I would believe that?” Trixie bit back too quickly. She suppressed her rising irritation as best as she could. Making herself out to be petulant or the bad pony wouldn’t help her act.

“Yes? I guess you could say I’m a fan.”

Trixie scoffed. “As if! You never game me so much as the time of day.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You don’t even remember?”

Twilight Sparkle paused a few moments to think, but then she shook her head. “Can we just get back to you blowing things up?”

“That’s what you remember about me?” Trixie slammed her staff to her stage and growled in frustration. “I challenge you to a duel!”

As she facehoofed, Twilight Sparkle asked, “Are you serious?”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie never backs down from a challenge.”

Twilight Sparkle let out a long sigh. “Fine.” After passing off her cookies to one of the unicorns with her, she teleported up onto the stage but remained a fair distance away. “If we’re going to do this, we need a few rules beyond the standard dueling set.”

“If you intend to give me a handicap–”

“No, that’s not it,” Twilight Sparkle interrupted. She gestured out to the audience with a hoof. “We have an unprotected civilian crowd not ten feet from us. If we start slinging serious magic, somepony is going to get hurt.”

Trixie cringed at her careless misstep. Breaking Twilight Sparkle was all well and good, but hurting her beloved fans was another thing entirely. “You have a point. Name your terms.”

“Other than the standard dueling missile, first year spells only.”

“Do you even know what those are?” Trixie snapped in return.

A long-suffering sigh escaped Twilight Sparkle. “Unfortunately, yes. I know the curriculum well enough to lecture at the school.”

Trixie paid the answer little mind as she considered the offer. It was a good deal for her. There was a disproportionate number of illusion spells in the first year curriculum, which happened to be a specialty of hers. “Fine. Any other restrictions?”

“We dismiss any enchantments we have active other than subspace storage.” Twilight Sparkle eyed Trixie’s staff warily. “And you put that away, whatever it is.”

Trixie squeezed her arm around her faithful companion a little tighter. It’d been years since she’d gotten into a real fight and even longer still since she’d fought without the Night Guardian Staff at her side.

“You can do it.”

Of course I can. I’m the Great and Powerful Trixie. With those words of reassurance echoing in her mind, Trixie levitated her staff backstage and began dispelling the enchantments she wore to make life more convenient. “Anything else?” she asked as she stripped herself of her hat and cloak as well.

“No brute force counters. From how much power you’ve been throwing around, if we allow them, this will quickly descend into a brawl.”

“Good point,” Trixie said with a smirk. Flattery would get a pony anywhere.

“And no telekinesis either,” Twilight Sparkle added. And now she smirked. “Unless you want me to sever your spinal cord and shatter your bones right from the word go?”

“You arrogant little–”

“Look, Trixie, I’m giving you a chance to win here. Now are we going to put on a show, or do you want to lose your audience?”

Twilight Sparkle had invoked the magic words. In answer, Trixie summoned a bit from backstage and held it aloft between them. “First to three. Start when this hits the floor.” She waited only long enough for a nod and then tossed the coin into the air.

With a quiet thump, the coin struck the stage floor.

Trixie wasted no time and fired off a pair of dueling strike spells with an illusion of thousands more, all converging on her enemy. When the light died down, she was disappointed but not surprised to find that neither of the ones that mattered had found their mark while the rest had gone ignored. Looking closer, she saw a thin, shimmering dome that looked much like a weak basic shield around Twilight Sparkle.

“You cheater!”

“Oh please, Trixie. I don’t cheat.” A downright evil smirk emerged on Twilight Sparkle’s face. “But neither do I play fair. Watch and learn.”

A bone chilling wind swept over the stage, swirling into an ever more frigid vortex. Trixie shivered and cast an illusion in front of her eyes to hide anything – currently her mane – that impaired her vision. Near Twilight Sparkle, tens of thousands of little shards of ice condensed in the air before being swept up into the wind.

She’s making hail with the pressure drop from a breeze spell? That’s absurd! Too absurd, in fact, to be truth. No, it must be an application of the cooling charm. The breeze is just overpowered to control the ice without telekinesis. It was a disgustingly difficult feat of magic, a stark reminder that this was the Archmage of Equestria on the stage.

Trixie stared down her opponent, waiting to counter an attack that never came. She narrowed her eyes. What’s she waiting for? As the two watched the other in the sharp, bitterly cold wind for the slightest of movements, a thought occurred. Perhaps she can only make a defensive form? In that case…

Trixie sent off another barrage of fake and real spells. This time, she added a supercharged heating spell to proceed every real attack to pierce through the ice. The vortex of hail managed to whack all but one of the real attacks away, resulting in hissing bursts of steam, while Twilight Sparkle dodged the final one with a quick sidestep.

Then, with a quick flash of her horn, Twilight Sparkle sent off three strike spells of her own that lazily arced towards Trixie. Intending to easily dodge, Trixie tried to jump back but found her hooves frozen to the stage. Fortunately, she fell downward and accidentally ducked under two of the three spells.

Rapidly thawing out her hooves as a second volley came, Trixie jumped backward only to bump up against a wall of ice. She swore under her breath in response, summoned a large volume of water, and then froze it immediately to block all of Twilight Sparkle’s attacks. She thought to reach for it with telekinesis before checking herself. Meanwhile, gravity took hold and slammed the boulder-sized chunk of ice down onto the stage, sending shrapnel flying everywhere. She immediately lit her horn to prevent the audience from getting hit, but a strong downburst knocked the stray wood to the ground before she could. To further upstage her, Trixie felt the sting of another strike spell, one Twilight Sparkle had fired blindly over the ice between them. Dozens more impacted around her. And more were coming.

In a rush, Trixie melted a small cavern inside the ice and sealed the entrance behind her before she suffered another hit. She next carved a thin slit of ice in the direction she thought her opponent would be, all the while cloaking her work in an illusion. This time luck proved to be on her side. She fired off her own volley of spells and managed to hit with one of them. The yelp she got in return ignited a fire inside her.

Trixie melted her way back out into Twilight Sparkle’s freezing wind. As she galloped out into the open, nine other duplicates of her emerged. They shivered in time with the real one, mimicking every action a real pony would take. The group rushed to take flanking positions.

In response, Twilight Sparkled flooded the stage with a massive water conjuration, sweeping away both herself and each of the Trixies, real and illusionary.

As if you could fool my illusions with a cheap trick like – oh ponyfeathers!

Twilight Sparkle lobbed a few hundred compressed chunks of dirt she’d collected from outside the stage into the general area of the Trixies. Those would hurt.

Finding it difficult to run against the wind, Trixie opted to call forth a large amount of earth herself and shelter beneath a protective shell of it. Within a fraction of a second, several heavy thuds came from outside. She reinforced the barrier with her magic, and it held firm.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Trixie compressed her earthen shield into tiny, dense balls and fired them at just below piercing velocity in every direction that wouldn’t head into the crowd. She heard a satisfying eep, even if it didn’t count as a point, from behind her and to the right, thus she spun and fired off a pair of strike spells at Twilight Sparkle. One struck true.

And in return, a boulder fell from above. Trixie sluggishly dodged it with a nervous laugh she hoped nopony heard. But she couldn’t stand still now that her opponent had warmed up, figuratively speaking. She broke into a gallop but slipped only moments later. The entire stage, to her surprise, was covered in a sheet of ice.

Trixie rolled out of the way of a strike spell just in time and scrambled back to her hooves. Not nearly far enough away, Twilight Sparkle slid across the ice at a pace much too fast and with far too much control for the low coefficient of friction. From the way her mane moved, it looked like she was using the wind to push herself along.

The duelists locked eyes for a moment before Twilight Sparkle fired off another shot.

Surprised by her lack of energy, Trixie shaped some of the nearby earth into a shield to block while she struggled to move properly. Yet as she fumbled in place, Twilight Sparkle circled around her shield in a gentle curve, still sliding along with the wind.

This time when Trixie went to shape earth to block, she found herself contesting Twilight Sparkle’s magic directly for control of it. She made the lucky decision to forgo the contest entirely and fell to her barrel, dodging what would have been a victory blow.

Unfortunately, with her legs spread-eagle from her fall, when Trixie tried to get back to her hooves, she found she just didn’t have the strength. She felt numb. Even her horn had grown dull and less responsive than it should. Only now did she noticed how strained her own breath had become.

Twilight Sparkle came to a halt directly in front of Trixie. She cleared away the rubble between them and the audience with a predatory smile, all the better to humiliate her fallen foe. “Oh dear. What have we here? Honestly, I thought you would notice what I was up to.”

Her teeth chattering, Trixie asked, “W-w-what a-are y-you t-t-talking ab-bout?”

“Cold, Trixie, is the silent killer.”

With that taunt, Twilight Sparkle lazily fired off her last strike spell and hit Trixie right between the eyes. Her victory complete, she then canceled all of the ongoing magical effects on the stage, replaced the earth they had used, and repaired the damage they’d caused. Next, she turned her attention elsewhere. Probably to herself, but Trixie couldn’t tell at the moment as she’d let her head hit the ground.

I lost. I lost on my own stage. Trixie grit her teeth. To Twilight Sparkle of all ponies!

All the while, the crowd stood in awed silence, staring in wonder up at their archmage even after the over-the-top duel had ended.

Dammit! Trixie fought against the tears threatening to ruin everything twice over. Always second best.

After Twilight Sparkle finished healing both of them and cast a few spells to give Trixie the energy and warmth to function properly, she pulled Trixie up onto her hooves. It was only then that the cheers and whistling began. Cries of, “Encore,” and, “Bravo,” came continuously along with shouts of both their names.

It didn’t matter. Trixie still lost. She was about to teleport away when Twilight Sparkle put a hoof on her shoulder. Privately, just between them without any spells amplifying their voices, Twilight Sparkle said, “It’s your show, Trixie. Instead of running away to pout, why not take a bow? Somepony has to.” As Twilight Sparkle built up the power for her own teleport, she added, “Thanks for the good fight.”

Twilight Sparkle disappeared without leaving behind a teleport signature as was to be expected of one of her station. That left Trixie alone on stage. She turned to look out at the still cheering crowd. As far as she could tell, they’d not lost any enthusiasm despite the archmage’s departure.

I still lost.

Trixie stared blankly out at the crowd for a few moments longer. Then, horribly awkwardly, she did the only thing that came to mind: she took a bow.

Reclined on the chaise lounge she’d conjured outside of Rarity’s boutique, Twilight contemplated the duel she’d just fought. It’d been a good way to get back on her hooves after a long stay at the hospital. She’d made some unintentional errors putting on a show with Trixie and had paid once or twice for underestimating her opponent, but all in all, she’d enjoyed herself. It almost made her regret apparently ignoring Trixie to the point of forgetting whatever encounters they’d had with one another, especially when she’d at least given Moon Dancer the time of day.

Oh well. No changing the past. Thoughts of Pinkie Pie popped into her head. Well, probably not.

Off in the distance, Twilight heard Sweetie Belle impatiently say, “See? I told you she would be here.”

“Yes, dear, you did,” Rarity replied with some exhaustion seeping into her voice. “Now do try to behave yourself this time.”

Twilight saw no need to rush, so she waited patiently for the pair to arrive and chose to continue basking in the sun with eyes closed. That soon came to an end, however, as an excited Sweetie Belle approached and immediately launched into an only slightly exaggerated recounting of her duel with Trixie.

Rarity eventually managed to settle Sweetie Belle down and then turned her attention onto Twilight. “Good afternoon, Your Excellency. What can we do for you today?”

“Well, for one, it’s still just Twilight unless we’re in a formal setting. I have a feeling we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other in the future.”

“Oh?” Rarity said. There was surprise in her voice but not of an unwelcome variety. Sweetie Belle’s reaction, of course, didn’t need description. “Why don’t you come inside? We can talk there.”

After dispelling the chair she’d made for herself, Twilight followed the sisters inside. Rarity’s store and home, the Carousel Boutique, had a circular design. The entire ground floor was dedicated to displays, changing rooms, racks of dresses, mirrors, and all the other public functions of her business. A set of stairs at the back led up the her private residence and workroom. As they did genuinely need to take Twilight’s measurements, they remained downstairs for the time being.

Rarity, as she gathered the things she would require, said, “Sweetie Belle, could you leave us alone for the moment?” It wasn’t a request, and the look of betrayal Sweetie Belle had on her face let everypony know she knew it. “You can come back down later if you want. Assuming Her – er, Twilight here doesn’t mind.”

“I do need to have a private conversation with your sister,” Twilight said. She gave Sweetie Belle a reassuring look. “We can chat before I leave, I promise.”

That was enough to get Twilight and Rarity some alone time, although Sweetie Belle still stopped to look back every other step of the way upstairs as though she thought Twilight would disappear if left unobserved. And to be perfectly fair, if she were any other foal, Twilight knew herself well enough to know she wouldn’t care to linger once her business was finished.

Then mostly because who knew what divination spells Sweetie Belle knew to eavesdrop with, Twilight set up the usual collection of privacy spells to prevent just that. She would be discussing sensitive information that needed protection anyway, of course, but the primary source of worry was a precocious foal only one story up.

Now that they were alone, Rarity began the measuring process and tried not to channel too much of Sweetie Belle’s energy as Twilight began the process of making thaumic thread from scratch. It wasn’t that difficult, really, when one had a lot of magical power and control. She showed Rarity with only a little hesitance how to form solidified magic, dissolve it into fibers, and then spin it into thread without causing it to explode or produce another random spell effect.

“If anything goes wrong when you try this yourself,” Twilight said, knowing Rarity wouldn’t be able to help herself, “have Sweetie Belle summon me immediately. And make sure she’s around and paying enough attention to actually do so if you can’t ask her yourself.”

Rarity readily promised to take such basic cautionary measures. She then adopted a mysterious, knowing smile. “So she has your” – she faltered for a moment, looking for the right term before defaulting – “mailing address as well, does she? I knew she had your son’s, but your personal one? Is there any special meaning I should take from that?”

“Not exactly. I needed her to practice the flame sending spell, and I was in the same room. But the situation has developed since. I’m going to need to have that talk with your parents sooner than expected.”

“Oh dear,” Rarity mumbled. “That doesn’t sound good. Has Sweetie Belle done something?”

“Well…yes but no. It’s my fault, really.”

From upstairs came a high-pitched shriek, or was it a wail of despair? Rarity had already bolted toward the stairs when Twilight called for her to stop.

“But–” Rarity tried to protest.

“She’s fine,” Twilight said. She’d even scryed the upper floors just to be sure. “And she definitely doesn’t want company right now.”

Hesitantly, Rarity stepped away from the stairs. “Why not?” she asked as she returned to the platform she’d had Twilight climb for measurements.

“I…may have played a little prank on her when she barged in on my afternoon tea with Berry Punch. She just discovered it.”

Rarity directed a stern look at Twilight, one she no doubt used to great effect on her sister.

“Yeah, I know. I feel bad enough about it already. It has…complications.” And they were on a level infinitely removed from good taste.

“Nothing…permanent, I hope.”

Even if Twilight kept Sweetie Belle out of the conflict with Luna and Luna never bothered her, there would still be mixed consequences. Generosity wasn’t, strictly speaking, bad, but according to Celestia, it was addictive and took a lot of getting used to before the bearer could tolerate even small crowds while wearing it.

“Do you happen to know any languages Sweetie Belle doesn’t?”

“A couple, yes.” Rarity’s voice had a sharp edge to it that let Twilight know she’d not been distracted.

“I highly recommend that you make a habit of thinking in one of them around Sweetie Belle from now on.” Twilight, in fact, had already switched over to Old Ponish. It was probably for the best she make more regular use of it, anyway. Luna had a bad habit of slipping into the language when speaking of the distant past. At any rate, it was time to deliver the first bit of news. “She just found herself in possession of a necklace that grants her involuntary telepathy in a radius when worn.”

The tape measure around Twilight’s barrel went a bit past snug.

“The Crusaders have a mind reading necklace? I – you – do you understand how disastrous that is?”

In the larger picture, that had little relevance, but Twilight did understand Rarity’s distress. “If it makes you feel any better, it only works for Sweetie Belle now that she’s bonded to it.” And rather remarkably, she still hadn’t put it on yet, too busy fretting over what she was going to tell Index, no doubt.

“That…helps, darling.” The weakness in Rarity’s voice didn’t really agree with her words. “But why did you give it to her?”

“I didn’t. While I was sleeping in the hospital” – and by this point Twilight felt sure that her experiment had succeeded and her long stay there had been worth it – “she took it from me.”

Shocked, Rarity’s magic failed her. Her tape measure, notes, and pen fell to the ground in a clatter. Then she recovered her voice. “Sweetie Belle stole from you? Oh, dear Celestia, I apologize for–”

Twilight held up a hoof to forestall the oncoming grovelling. “The artifact itself draws suitable bearers to it. The call is very difficult to resist. And I asked a favor of her that put her into its proximity. As I said before, this is my fault. I’m honestly surprised she didn’t bond with it before my ill-conceived prank earlier.”

Her uncertainty written on her face, Rarity chose not to reply to that – not yet, at least.

“Anyway, I have good news, bad news, and worse news. Which would you like to hear first?”

“Bad then worse,” Rarity replied without hesitation. “I’d like to end this on a high note, if you don’t mind.”

Nodding, Twilight took a moment to consider the best choice of words. Perhaps a little context to lead into the bad news would work. “The artifact Sweetie Belle has is called the Element of Generosity. It’s part of a set of six, the Elements of Harmony. Individually, they’re of interest for their magical properties, but together they are absurdly powerful. The Element of Magic bonded with me not too long ago. I’ve left it in Celestia’s care for the time being, so when I say this, understand that I mean it. Parting with an Element is not easy. The call of Magic is always there in the back of my mind. Generosity is the worst of the set. After getting used to it, Celestia says removing it is a lot like making yourself deaf.”

After a few moments to process the information, Rarity said, “I see. That’s not so bad.”

Twilight shrugged. She fully intended to help Sweetie Belle through the transition, so whatever difficulties arose should be minimized. “The worse news is Celestia has a sister.”

Eyes wide in surprise, Rarity only managed a shocked, “What?”

“And unfortunately,” Twilight continued, “she’s due to return to Equestria soon. Luna is more gifted than Celestia in magical combat, and she’s…unhappy with her sister.”

Rarity connected the dots on her own. “You said the Elements of Harmony…” She paled. “You need Sweetie Belle to fight her.”

“I do.” It hadn’t exactly been her finest moment deliberately bonding Sweetie Belle to Generosity. But at the same time, Twilight knew they would get along well enough to power the Elements. “If I fail, I…” And now she realized that her deal with Luna didn’t cover the fate of the other Element bearers. That…had been a terrible mistake on her part. In her defense, at the time, the only other one had been Lyra. “I can shield Sweetie Belle from Luna if I fail.” Surely she could at least do that much. Luna couldn’t keep the Elements from her or stop her from finding replacement bearers, and the spirit of their bargain would prevent her from trying to use them on Luna again anyway.

Rarity fell to her haunches and buried her face in her hooves. “Does it matter if I say no?”

“I’m sorry, but no.”

To Twilight’s surprise, Rarity managed to collect herself remarkably quickly. She was made of stern stuff, it seemed, far sterner than Twilight had expected of a rural, wannabe socialite. If only Generosity had bonded with her instead.

“And the good news?”

“Well, I hope it’s still good news,” Twilight said a little nervously. Sweetie Belle’s family did still have the final call over her education after the solstice. “The Elements of Harmony as a whole are powered by friendship. I was already thinking about this, but Generosity bonding with Sweetie Belle decided me. I’d like to do for her what Celestia did for me.”

That, oddly, shocked Rarity more than the situation with Luna. Perhaps because it’d lacked any lead in, she’d not had the time to prepare herself for revelation. Once she found her voice, she weakly asked, “You want to take her as your apprentice?”

“Well, it wasn’t something so formal for me, but yes, more or less. Celestia kept me near to guide and assist me in my studies. She opened the entire Canterlot Archives to me and even her own personal collection. Some ponies, who will remain nameless, thought I’d never be heard from again. If Sweetie Belle needs something more structured than what I had, I’ll figure something out.”

To Rarity’s continued silence, Twilight added, “Um, assuming she accepts the offer and there are no objections.”

“No!” Rarity shouted before regaining her normal poise. She faked a cough, and then tried again. “No, I have no objections. And I will not allow our parents to interfere with this.”

Now that all the dramatic reveals were finished, Rarity collected the things she’d dropped and went back to work. They finished taking measurements quickly enough and would have then turned to a collaborative design session to decide on a rough outline for the robes Twilight wanted, but Rarity was quite clearly too distracted to properly indulge in the creative process. It only took a little pressing after they sat down at a table for the questions to pour forth from her.

“As a practical matter,” Rarity began, “how will this arrangement work? I know you lived in the castle with Princess Celestia, but what about Sweetie Belle?”

Twilight honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. She had the vague intention of attempting to replicate her experience as Celestia’s protégé, but such things as living arrangements and long-term lesson plans hadn’t even graced her mind. After giving the matter a little though, she replied, “Until Sweetie Belle builds up her magic enough to teleport around at will, it’d be best for her if she stayed at the castle to have better access to me. Where she goes after is up to her. For now, I could clear out a room in my tower for her. Or we could house her somewhere nearby in the castle if you wanted to move in with her.” It’d certainly been a relief and a comfort to have Shining so close at hoof when she’d been in Sweetie Belle’s shoes.

“The latter would be an easier sell to my parents,” Rarity commented with an energy that failed to hide her own excitement at the possibility. “She would be able to have visitors?”

“As long as the castle is still standing at the end of the day.”

A nervous titter slipped past Rarity’s lips. “Yes, I’m sure she and her friends can rein in their more…”

“Cataclysmic?”

“Not the word I was going to use, darling, but yes. Perhaps you could make health and safety a particular focus of her studies at first?”

Twilight recalled her early experiments had often ended with her injured even when she’d learned enough to try to shield herself from the fallout. In hindsight, she wished she’d had somepony to teach her proper protective measures early on despite how boring the subject could be. It was an important skill to know how spells could go wrong, how to correct errors at leisure in controlled settings, and how to abandon ship when time was critical and every millisecond counted. Maybe she could incorporate it into a series of lessons designed to help Sweetie Belle learn from failure.

That would actually work well. I could teach her a protective spell, let her get comfortable with it, and then give her a bugged spell later on designed to fail precisely in a manner she can defend against. If she notices the error and corrects it, great. If not, I can tell her to investigate what happened and why. Point her in the direction of some useful resources if she needs the help. That’ll help her learn about the mechanics behind how magic actually works. Hmm… Celestia never did that with me, but then I guess I was already doing it to myself before we ever met. Still, I wonder if that’s asking too much from Sweetie Belle. Even I know not everypony learns best the way I do.

A slightly less than gentle nudge with an accompanying, “Twilight?” brought her out of her thoughts.

“Ah, sorry.” Twilight offered Rarity an apologetic smile. “Teaching and not hating it is new for me. I got a little lost reflecting on how I wanted to go about this.”

“Perfectly all right, darling.”

“You have the right idea, though,” Twilight continued. “If I’m going to give Sweetie Belle access to thousands of spells she can hurt or even kill herself with, I’m gong to need to drill proper caution into her head. Preferably in a way she enjoys so she doesn’t shy away from it.” A little hesitant, she added, “And probably in a manner unpleasant enough for her to learn its value as I did.”

Rarity pursed her lips together. “You mean you’re going to let her hurt herself?”

“Only in a controlled manner so she learns not to let far greater harm befall her in the future. Magic is dangerous.” Twilight wanted there to be no uncertainty in that. “It’s best she learns that early and…viscerally. Through means which don’t leave her afraid of it, of course.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure I approve,” Rarity said, “but magic is your field of expertise. And I do wish she would stop taking years off my life with her stunts.”

Twilight considered if it was best to say anything more before ultimately deciding to go ahead. “If it makes you feel any better, she’ll someday learn the polymorph spell. Anything short of an immediately fatal injury will wash off her. A seapony gouged a hole straight through my arm not too long ago, and as you can see” – she held up the affected limb and waved it around – “no lasting harm done.”

“Your ability to inspire confidence amazes me,” Rarity flatly replied. She did, however, look a little more closely at Twilight’s uninjured arm. “How exactly does that work?”

The precise details and mechanics were ridiculously complicated, but Twilight did her best to summarize it in laypony terms. “The polymorph spell performs a full transmutation on the subject’s body, leaving a copy of sorts of the original form in memory with a magical buffer to provide enough power to fully reverse the process when the spell expires. It’s the most general living transmutation spell known to unicorns, able to affect age, gender, color, and so on and so forth.”

“That sounds like a designer’s dream.” If she hadn’t already had so much dropped on her today, Twilight suspected Rarity would be gushing about it as she had thaumic thread before. “Is that what Silver Bell uses for her work?”

“Yes,” Twilight said simply and without further explanation. She expected Sweetie Belle to find out about changelings someday, but Rarity was another story entirely.

A thought must have struck Rarity then, as she furrowed her brow and fell silent for some time. Once she’d taken a few moments for herself, she asked, “Does that spell affect the brain as well?”

Ah, a mare of philosophy. Twilight had long since fielded all those questions from her mother and had a ready answer. “It does, and yes, that affects behavior to some degree. I particularly don’t enjoy being male, for example. But to answer what you’re really asking, pony brains are too simple to have much of our identity in them. Most of that is in our magic and remains unaffected by the spell.” Which, incidentally, was why Twilight didn’t live life as an alicorn or otherwise change species often. She had unicorn magic. No biological adjustments would change that, and simulating the magic of other species was a taxing chore usually not worth the effort.

Before Rarity could ask another question, Twilight felt somepony step over the boundary of her privacy spells. She turned her gaze toward the stairs, Rarity’s following with, and found Sweetie Belle timidly walking down them with her saddlebags as bulgy as Twilight had last seen them.

“Sweetie Belle–”

The filly in question emitted a startled, “Eep!”

“–we’re not quite done here yet. Do you need something?”

“I… I…do.” Sweetie Belle nervously took a few steps closer to address Twilight. “Could you help me with something?”

Knowing what this was about already, Twilight replied with a noncommittal, “Possibly. What do you need?”

Sweetie Belle slid her saddlebags off her back, unbuttoned them, and pulled out Generosity and the metal sphere Twilight had conjured. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Rarity’s gaze lock onto the Element with the same vacant look Moon Dancer had around Magic. She clicked her tongue. It was too late to change bearers now. Under the table, she kicked Rarity just hard enough to get her to snap back to reality.

Meanwhile, Sweetie Belle spun her story. “When I left home this morning, I had a stone sphere…thing. At some point during the day, it turned into these. I don’t know how or when or why, but it’s very important that I return them to normal.”

Sweetie Belle twitched – nearly pounced – when Twilight took Generosity into her own magic and drew it closer. Sweetie Belle, naturally, followed in its wake. The metal sphere, however, she dispelled without a thought.

“No!” Sweetie Belle cried. “I need that! Index is going to hate meeee!”

Across the table, Rarity directed a pointed look at Twilight which she ignored. She already knew this was her mess to clean up. The question was how. She wanted to ease Sweetie Belle into Index’s true identity in the hope of keeping the rapport they’d already built without muddying the waters with too much idolatry. She could discard that approach to comfort Sweetie Belle now, but that would probably be more trouble than it was worth. She’d just have to go with Celestia’s usual approach to this sort of situation and weave enough half-truths to get by until the time was right for the full truth. Besides, that was what mentors did, wasn’t it? Utter a bunch of cryptic nonsense that only made sense in hindsight?

Twilight lifted Sweetie Belle’s head with a gentle magical push. “Index isn’t going to hate you. I promise. This–” She first looked to Rarity and then nodded to Generosity. Rarity must have gotten the message, as she nodded back. “–is the Element of Generosity. It called to you, and you answered it.” She needed to lecture Sweetie Belle on the dangers of mysterious magical artifacts, especially ones that touched the mind, but that would keep until later. “Index is here looking for a bearer for each Element in her possession. I think she will be very happy to learn one of them chose you.”

“R-really?”

“Of course.” Twilight shifted of her seat and lowered herself down onto her barrel. At eye level, she smiled warmly and wrapped Generosity around Sweetie Belle’s neck. The moment she fastened it in place, Sweetie Belle’s eyes widened.

“This – am I–”

Nodding, Twilight leaned a little closer to whisper. “Yes, little telepath, it does exactly what you think it does. I warned Rarity in advance.”

Sweetie Belle wasn’t entirely able to hide the pout threatening to bloom on her face.

Twilight chuckled as she leaned back. “Why don’t you go practice with it and try to find Index. I’ll let her know you’re coming.”

“I… Well…” Sweetie Belle gnawed on her lip until Rarity called her on the unladylike behavior. Still, she glanced uncertainly between Generosity, the door, and Twilight.

“We’ll see each other again another time,” Twilight promised. “Generosity is a priceless national treasure. I’ll be in contact.”

So reassured, Sweetie Belle only somewhat reluctantly departed. Twilight called out, “Steer clear of crowds for now,” after her, having nearly forgotten that warning. Then once she’d fully gone, Twilight found her way back to her seat and noticed Rarity watching her with a look of approval. She arched an eyebrow.

“You’re good with foals.”

Twilight scoffed. “I’m good with precocious foals I like. Others, not so much. I have no more patience for them now than I did when I was that age.”

“And your own?” Rarity asked, a knowing smirk playing at her lips.

“Hmph. I’m a doting mother for every reason that implies.”

A dainty hoof covering her mouth couldn’t hide Rarity’s laughter.

Twilight paid the reaction no mind and pulled a book she’d collected on her trip earlier in the day from her bag of holding. “Here.” She placed it on the table. “This describes the treatment necessary to turn cloth infused with thaumic thread into a proper enchanted artifact. I’ve never done it myself, so do remember what I said about magic being dangerous and start small.”

With a delighted, “Thank you, darling,” Rarity took the thin book in her magic and rapidly flipped through the pages.

“I should get going. We can continue our discussions later. I need to take care of a few more things around town today, and Index needs to actually show up for Sweetie Belle to find.”

Author's Notes:

Behold! A shameless promotion for my Patreon.

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Revision Notes - July 10th (2020)

Chapter Eleven - Shifting Dynamics

“The specimen possesses an equally curious and frustrating ability to survive the destruction of its ‘body’. Indeed, its body, for lack of a better term, seems to be nothing more than a particularly dense concentration of its magic. This amorphous nature makes for some truly remarkable properties worthy of study, but as a creature lacking a physical form, it also displays a number of unique vulnerabilities. An intriguing attempt at expanded power and immortality, no doubt, but ultimately a flawed one.”

Index appeared in the midst of Pinkie Pie’s room. She had too much to do right now and little desire to track down every single pony who’d visited her in the hospital to find out who’d taken the other missing Element. She’d pass that task off to the pony who actually liked socializing and had uncanny magical powers to assist in the effort. Unfortunately, and a little surprisingly, Pinkie Pie wasn’t in her room in the middle of the afternoon. Giving the suite of known abilities available to her, Index had kind of expected she’d just be there on demand for guests. Perhaps the Cakes would know where she’d gone off to.

On her way out of the room, Index ran into a ‘note’ left out for her dangling from a string connected to a balloon just in front of the door. Huh. Maybe Pinkie Pie did know I was going to drop by looking for her here. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but like most things Pinkie Pie, she shoved those uncertain emotions down for later analysis after the solstice. It probably wasn’t the healthiest approach to take, but she’d already had multiple blow ups on this mission and didn’t need to actively pursue more trouble.

The note, if one could call it that, was a sheet of pink construction paper folded into a remarkable likeness of Pinkie Pie on a roughly thirty to one scale. There were even little googly eyes attached to the face with a speech bubble popping out. ‘To Index,’ it read in white crayon. The overly artistic eyesore came loose with a light tug of magic and unfolded with little difficulty.

‘Totally took Kindness while you were asleep. Super sorry. At Fluttershy’s.’

Index calmly set the note down, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

And then Twilight incinerated the letter. For good measure, she threw the ashes onto the carpeting, stomped on them with her hoof, and then rubbed them in as hard as she could, all while grinding her teeth together. She might have resolved to give friendship a try with Pinkie Pie, but that didn’t mean she was going to let the anomaly ruin everything. Lyra having Honesty was bad enough, and then she’d tossed Sweetie Belle under a carriage. Now this. If Kindness didn’t destroy the strange little fantasy world Pinkie Pie lived in where everything was sunshine and rainbows, then it most certainly would make her exponentially more unbearable.

You better have taken Kindness for Fluttershy and not yourself.

In a blink, Twilight teleported back to the Carousel Boutique. Rarity hadn’t moved in the short time she’d been alone, content to either read or pretend to read her new book.

“Rarity–”

The mare in question jumped with a shriek of surprise.

“–I need directions to Fluttershy’s house.”

After a visibly very nervous once-over, Rarity steeled herself and rose from her seat. “You need nothing of the sort in your state. You shall see neither hide nor hair of her if you go storming in ready for a fight, I promise you that.”

“It’s not her I’m after,” Twilight growled.

“Oh dear.” Her tone softening, Rarity asked, “What did Pinkie do?”

“She took Kindness.”

It took a few moments before Rarity caught on to Twilight’s meaning. “Isn’t that a good thing?” she asked once she had. “Pinkie is one of friendliest, most welcoming ponies in town.”

“Abrasively friendly,” Twilight replied. “And Kindness is the empathic Element.”

Rarity slowly frowned. “I see how that might worry you. Pinkie can be a little…grating in large doses. But there’s no point in being mad, now is there? From what you told Sweetie Belle, she could hardly help herself.” Her gaze grew a little distant, no doubt recalling the lesser influence Generosity, already bonded, had exerted over her. “You’ll simply have to make the best of it. Give her a chance. She’s really very nice. And do remember that this isn’t all about you. There will be four other ponies on your team to split her attention.”

“Fine,” Twilight grumbled. She hated that she couldn’t deny the logic in any of that. “Can I have directions now?”

With a thoughtful hum, Rarity said, “In time, darling. First, I think you would benefit from a few moments to relax.”

“I don’t have time for a spa trip,” Twilight deadpanned.

Rarity chuckled. “As pleasant as that sounds, I was thinking of something more traditional. Join me for tea?”

“I…suppose.” It probably was a better idea not to go in with magic flaring and her temper on a hair-trigger. With some reluctance, she acceded to follow Rarity upstairs to her kitchen.

As they climbed the stairs, Rarity said, “Now if you’re going to visit Fluttershy, you should keep in mind that she’s the quintessential introvert. The poor dear is ever so shy. Hence the name, I suppose. But I wonder… Does your polymorph spell allow you to change species?”

A little brown sparrow hopped back and forth on a nearby roof in what passed for a reasonable facsimile of pacing. It’d been doing that for the last five minutes now, occasionally glancing down toward the family before returning to its strange task. Oddly, another pair of sparrows not too far away seemed almost exasperated with the other one’s behavior, at times shaking their heads or covering their face with a wing.

“Spike? Are you paying attention?”

“Huh?”

Cadance raised her eyebrows in question when Spike failed to deliver even an attempt at pretending he had been.

“Oh, uh, sorry…” Spike scratched the back of his head and returned his gaze to the birds on the roof. They were still there and still just as strange in their behavior. He pointed a claw at them. “There’s something weird about those sparrows.”

Both Cadance and Flurry looked up from the board game they were playing. All three of them staring at said birds resulted in the two who had been standing back and watching flying up to the nervous one. They pushed it over the edge, and mutual glares were exchanged between the two parties.

“I see your point,” Cadance dryly commented over Flurry’s snickers. She raised her voice to be heard and called out, “You can come down now. I’m afraid you’re not fooling anyone.”

Spike had never seen a sparrow show embarrassment before, but he felt certain he had now as it glided down toward them. It landed on an empty space of their picnic blanket and then, in a rush of ice blue fire, it transformed into a young, distinctly female changeling. Unlike the few undisguised ones Spike had seen, this one had a ruby coloring to her chitin around her abdomen and a lighter tint to her wings alongside generally more defined features. She kind of looked like a young Queen Chrysalis who’d undergone a palette swap.

“Um, hello,” the changeling said as much to her hooves as anyone else. “I’m, well, I came from Ponyville, and Archmage Twilight said I could come visit?”

Cadance adopted a soft, disarming smile and took initiative. “Of course you can. Do you like Dragon Pit?”

“I’ve never played.” The changeling looked even more nervous for the admission, but Cadance just waved the worry away.

“It’s very self-explanatory. We take turns rolling the dice and moving our piece, and then we take whatever action the space we land on says. The goal is to be the last dragon standing. Simple, no?”

Although the nod remained uncertain, the changeling sat down and accepted the dragon piece Spike handed her from the box. Resetting the game took no time at all. As they did so, they ran through their probably unnecessary introductions and then waited on the changeling’s.

“I’m Ocellus. I’m from Chrysalis’s hive.”

Spike felt certain they’d all assumed that already, but it did open Ocellus up to a follow-up question. “Why do you look so different from every other changeling I’ve met?” He noticed Cadance direct a mildly disapproving glare his way, most likely at the brusque nature of his wording, but he still felt it was fair to ask.

“Oh! Uh, I’m a young queen. I’m sorry I forgot to mention that.”

“Really?” Cadance asked with perhaps a little more surprise than she should. “No one ever bothered to tell me Chrysalis had a…well, daughter, but I’m unsure what the proper term is.”

A tiny smile – just an upturning at the corners of her mouth, really – grew on Ocellus. “Daughter or heiress is fine.”

Flurry, with a scrutinizing eye, asked, “How old are you?”

When Ocellus replied that she’d recently turned ten, Cadance observed, “Then you hatched not long after your hive moved to Equestria.”

If changelings could blush untransformed, Spike was sure Ocellus would be. “I’m told we made the journey specifically to feed me.”

That, rather predictably, earned a sappy comment about Queen Chrysalis from Cadance that went largely ignored. At the same time, Flurry asked, “So what’s being princess of the hive like?”

“Oh, well…” After some time to think about it, Ocellus replied, “It was…different before Thorax, well, you know. I don’t remember much from back then, but I don’t think it’s all that dissimilar from your life. Mother teaches me about being queen, but I don’t really have many other responsibilities. I’m a little…sheltered.”

The feeling had been building, but Spike now had the distinct impression that he and Flurry were going to be a bad influence on Ocellus in all the best ways possible. He and Flurry, who appeared to be on exactly the same page, traded mischievous smirks while Cadance and Ocellus weren’t looking. They were going to teach this shy, sheltered princess how to have fun. And if the letters they’d been swapping with the Cutie Mark Crusaders held even the slightest grain of truth, life might be about to get very interesting.

Index walked down the path to Fluttershy’s home on the far, far outskirts of town and far too close to the Everfree for her liking. Had she not had two unawakened Elements in her possession, she no doubt would have felt the forest’s magic prickle at her horn – not strong enough to contest her own power, of course, but certainly not blind to her presence. She found herself at a loss for why anypony would want to live out here. Sure, it was isolated, but there were far better ways to obtain a little peace and quiet away from other ponies.

At any rate, the cottage at the end of the path stood at the top of a small hill with a creek surrounding nearly three-quarters of the structure. A single bridge spanned the stream. Unlike the preferred thatched roofing Ponyville proper preferred, Fluttershy’s home had a thick covering of moss. The most distinct feature, however, was the abundance of animals. They were everywhere. Beavers, otters, birds, hedgehogs, rabbits, raccoons, eagles, falcons, flamingos, and more. Index even thought she saw a bear slip into the less deadly fringe of the Everfree Forest.

“That’s a lot of animals.” Index had no more intelligent comment at the ready as she took the sight in. The closest she’d ever come to owning a pet herself was looking after Philomena, the largely self-reliant phoenix, for Celestia when she had to leave the country. That was trouble enough.

And speaking of trouble, Pinkie Pie came out of nowhere and glomped Index. Having expected something along that line, she didn’t didn’t even freeze up, much less fling Pinkie Pie into the sky. But she kind of wanted to anyway when Pinkie Pie commenced babbling.

“Oh my gosh, Index! Long time no see! For you, I mean, not for me. How are you feeling? Those hospital beds didn’t look very comfy. I tried one, and it was terrible, but at least you got some real sleep. Sure, it was feverish sleep, but fever dreams can be pretty cool! Oh, and sorry again for taking Kindness without asking, but it was just sitting there when I came in on top of a whoooole bunch of other stuff, and I figured you wouldn’t mind anyways, so I just went ahead and snuck it out before the nurses or anypony else noticed your stuff!”

Index breathed deeply, and then pried Pinkie Pie off of her. She set the mare down on all four hooves a meter away, took an extra step back herself, and even then she found that she hadn’t quite gotten her personal space back. Still, it would do for now.

“Pinkie Pie, where is Kindness?”

“Weeeell–”

Index sealed Pinkie Pie’s mouth shut with magic before she could ramble off another hundred paragraph in a single breath. “Let me try that again. Do you have Kindness?”

Without the ability to produce words – and thankfully, that did seem to be the case – Pinkie Pie shook her head.

“Does Fluttershy have Kindness?”

This time Pinkie Pie nodded.

“Wonderful,” Index said, genuinely pleased. She released the seal on Pinkie Pie’s mouth. “Thank you for the concise answers. Will you introduce us?” Better that than suffer the indignity of Rarity’s suggestion. She refused to polymorph into a fluffy bunny unless it became absolutely necessary.

“Of course! I’ll just head back in and get her warmed up for you. Give me a few minutes.”

And like that, Pinkie Pie pranced back up the path to the cottage on top of the hill. Index followed after at a much more sedate pace and waited just outside the open door out of sight.

“Pinkie,” said what was presumably Fluttershy in a diminutive voice, “I know you really wanted me to get this to work, but it just won’t.”

Well, I suppose I wasn’t at all invested in Fluttershy yet anyway. There were other ponies who could bear Kindness.

“I’m so sorry,” Fluttershy continued, “but I just don’t think I’m cut out for it. Even if it is a really nice necklace.”

Index’s eyes narrowed. If Kindness had already awakened, its bearer should have no trouble getting it to function. That meant it didn’t belong to Fluttershy, which in turn meant somepony else had bonded with it, and the only other pony who’d had a chance was the one trying to pass it off to her.

“Nonsense! My friend Index is right behind me. She’ll have you ready and able in two shakes of your tail.”

A heavy, resigned sigh rushed past Index’s lips. She cast a scrying spell to verify that, although Fluttershy did have Kindness around her neck, the gem it bore matched perfectly with Pinkie Pie’s cutie mark. I’ll need to thank Rarity again later for detaining me at her place until I calmed down.

“A new pony?” Fluttershy asked, her voice quavering. Index didn’t need to scry her to know that she’d sunk into herself. “I don’t know…”

Best put an end to this. Lightly rapping on the door with her magic, Index stepped into view. She politely ignored the startled eep she got in return and Fluttershy’s futile attempts to hide behind her own mane. “Excuse me. I need to borrow Pinkie Pie for a few moments.”

Without waiting for an answer, Index magically snagged Pinkie Pie by the ear and marched her out of the cottage. Once they had the illusion of privacy, Index plainly stated, “You can’t lend Kindness out. We need it at full strength, which means–”

A quiet eep emitted from the cottage as Kindness teleported into Index’s waiting hoof. She paid it no mind as she unhooked the necklace, resigned herself to the inevitable, and finally wrapped it around Pinkie Pie’s neck.

“–this is yours. If you didn’t want it, you shouldn’t have touched it.”

“But it was meant for Fluttershy!” Pinkie Pie protested. She casually removed Kindness from her neck, apparently entirely unfazed by the call. While that was odd and a little enviable, it was Pinkie Pie. Who knew what went on in her head.

Index refused to take Kindness back and stood between Pinkie Pie and the cottage door. “Elements aren’t meant for any one pony. I can name three ponies suited to bear Generosity” – counting Celestia – “four for Magic” – assuming Sunset could – “two for Honesty” – including Luna – “and now three for Kindness. Yes, I heard the longing in Fluttershy’s voice just now, but that doesn’t change the simple fact that it already bonded with you.”

“But I don’t… When I wear Kindness…” Pinkie Pie visibly wilted with her mood. Even her mane and tail became a little less bouncy. “I’m not meant for it.”

Index breathed in deep, and Twilight let it out. “Pinkie Pie… Pinkie, put on Kindness. Please. For me.”

And because Kindness had chosen to bond with her, of course Pinkie Pie did so.

“I don’t like you.”

The bluntness made Pinkie Pie wince, but it certainly got her to sit quietly and listen.

“I like to be left alone. You need constant attention. You terrify, confuse, annoy, and fascinate me all at the same time. If you’d shown up at any other point in my life, we wouldn’t even be talking.” Twilight paused to bring Pinkie Pie’s drooping eyes back up to hers. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends now. If you can try to appreciate my jade-colored glasses, I can try to appreciate your rose-tinted world.”

Pinkie Pie carefully said, “You mean that,” playing with the words aloud as she fidgeted with Kindness around her neck.

Twilight gave Pinkie Pie a weak smile. “It’s probably not what you deserve, but it’s all a sour, prickly mare like me has to offer. Friends?”

“Of course! I–” Pinkie Pie abruptly stopped halfway to another crushing hug. “Oh. Sorry, I–”

With a little sigh, Twilight stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Pinkie Pie’s neck. She usually drew a wide line concerning that sort of physical contact with mere acquaintances, but a simple hug felt like the least she could do for what she was asking. “Just give me some warning and some space when I need it, okay?”

Pinkie Pie nodded into Twilight’s neck.

“I’m sorry I’m not going to make this easy for you,” Twilight said as they broke apart, “but thank you. I would say you have no idea how much this means to me, but you probably do.”

“Of course I do, silly!” Pinkie Pie laughed as she said that and tapped Kindness. “That’s what this is for.”

Twilight smiled a little more warmly at that. While Kindness took it to a much higher level, she was well used to that particular violation of privacy from the changelings.

“That was so sweet.”

Oh, right. Twilight had forgotten they had an audience. The moment Fluttershy realized she’d been heard, she let out a sheepish squeak and pulled her head back inside her cottage. Well…Pinkie Pie can deal with that. I need to go let Sweetie Belle finally find me. “Can I trust you to swear Fluttershy to secrecy?”

With a ridiculously inaccurate salute, Pinkie Pie replied, “You can count on me!” and then hopped off back into the cottage after her friend.

Three knocks came at the door, and then Derpy called out, “Rainbow Dash, I’ve got some mail for you!”

From her dining room, Rainbow Dash groaned. She quickly took the first bite of her fresh, delectable, overdue dinner and then left the cloud holding her fork in place with a huff. “Go ahead and start without me, Squirt,” she said to Scootaloo. “Remember, no wings or hooves.”

“I wasn’t going to!”

Rainbow Dash arched her eyebrows at Scootaloo’s fidgeting arms and the shaking spoon suspended in a cloud awkwardly trying to find her mouth without spilling. They were still working on her ability to effect smooth, precise movements. She was doing a lot better than when she’d started, but Rainbow Dash was glad she lived in a cloud house and only rarely had to clean up the mess.

Whatever. She either practices or she doesn’t. Not my problem.

Except she’d kind of made the squirt her problem just like she had the last pegasus who had trouble flying, but Rainbow Dash paid that thought no mind. Instead, she impatiently – but at heart lazily – suppressed her body’s natural magic and sank through the clouds of her house until she broke her fall on the lowest floor. Following that shortcut, it was only a short few steps to the front door. When she opened it, her usual mailmare greeted her.

“You know I have a mailbox, right?”

Digging around in her mailbag, Derpy replied, “I know, but the boss said I have to absolutely make sure you one-hundred percent get your mail today, no excuses.” Sticking her tongue out, she shifted her bag to let her stick her head inside of it for a closer look. “I know they’re in here somewhere…”

“Hmph. You can tell our esteemed postmaster I’m perfectly happy with my mailmare.” Celestia, but Rainbow Dash hated the postal system in earth pony towns. Derpy was the best thing to ever happen to the service even if it sometimes required her to hunt down or trade mail with other ponies. “So what’s so important that he’s bothering you?”

A muffled, “Found one!” came from the bag of mail. Derpy, despite the poor light, her eye condition, and her dyslexia, none of which made her job any easier, emerged from her bag with an envelope hanging from her mouth. Rainbow Dash took it with a hoof, only for her to disappear back into her bag again.

This is from the Wonderbolts. Even if she weren’t a fan, Rainbow Dash would have recognized the seal by now. With a silent sigh, she let the wind carry that one up to her office where Scootaloo wouldn’t find it. The squirt knew not to go in there, and weather management was boring, anyway.

“Aha! Here you go.” Derpy held out another letter, this one bearing the royal seal of the sun and moon. Anypony with a government job would recognize it.

Stunned, Rainbow Dash asked, “What? But…why?”

“Don’t know,” Derpy mumbled through a corner of her mouth. She waved the letter insistently, and Rainbow Dash mechanically reached out for it. “See ya later.”

Rainbow Dash, now alone, turned the envelope over to see which member of the royal family had sent it to her. The return address read as Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, the one and only pegasus princess – well, until she’d given birth, but that wasn’t the point. Practically every pegasus looked up to her!

Conjuring a bit of cloud from the water vapor in the air, unwilling to wait, Rainbow Dash channeled enough of her magic through it to turn it into a passable paper knife. After she broke the wax seal, she tossed the envelope onto a table nearby in case she needed it later and then made her way back upstairs. As she climbed, she repurposed the cloud she’d formed to hold the letter open in front of her. Unicorns had their fancy-schmancy telekinesis; she had clouds.

‘Dear Rainbow Dash,

‘I hope this letter finds you well and in good humor. There will be a few major changes coming to Equestria with the turning of the millennium, and I hope to bring about one of them. Let me first explain what I want to accomplish, and then I’ll share what major role I want you to play in it.’

Rainbow Dash was already excited. It was going to suck turning the princess down.

‘A pegasus can learn any branch of our magic with a little practice, even those magics outside their field of specialty (if they even have one). Some might come more easily to us than others, but such is the nature of ponies. Some find it easier to ride a bike than a scooter. Some find it easier to bake than to brew. In addition, pegasus magic has few set forms. We give our magic intention and direction and let it do the heavy lifting.

‘This is in stark contrast to unicorns. They struggle to master any spell not related to their own special talent. It’s not a limitation of their tribe so much as it is how difficult their magic is to perform without a helping hoof (if my sister ever tries to tell you otherwise, do not believe her). Moreover, every single spell they cast requires discipline and structure, even telekinesis to some extent.

‘In these ways, unicorns and pegasi are very different. Unfortunately, Equestria’s educational system is largely structured around what the former built for themselves centuries ago. Yes, shocking, I know. Regardless, nowhere is this concern more prevalent and problematic than in the way we teach pegasi to use their magic. I want to put an end to this.

‘As such, I have begun construction on a new school for gifted pegasi. I intend to take the best and brightest of our tribe and experiment with their education to find the best way to help them reach their full potential. Once I determine what that is, I plan to take it to the Department of Education for implementation across the nation.

‘This is where you come in. According to my extensive research, you are Equestria’s leading expert on pegasus magic. I need you to help me develop a curriculum and stay on as a professor.’

“What?” Rainbow Dash had been on board with everything Princess Cadenza had said up until that point. “But – but that’s egghead stuff!”

“What’s egghead stuff?”

Rainbow Dash blinked. When she looked up from the letter, her eyes fell on the guest she’d entirely forgotten had been in her house, at her table, eating just across where she’d unconsciously returned as she’d read. “Uh… It’s nothing, Squirt. Just let me finish this.”

Although obviously unhappy to have her curiosity denied, Scootaloo fell silent and returned to what remained of her dinner.

‘Now then,’ the letter continued, ‘as I have heard how stubborn you can be, follow the instructions below.

‘You plan on accepting my offer – turn to page two

‘You plan on resisting – turn to page three’

What the… ‘Resisting’? Muttering under her breath, Rainbow Dash said, “What is this, a Choose Your Own Adventure?” A little nervously – she was dealing with royalty here – she turned to page three.

‘The walls close in around you. Within moments, you run out of air. You die.’

Rainbow Dash gaped at the page’s contents, but as there was more text to follow, she continued reading.

‘Just kidding. I bet your first reaction was something along the lines of, “Is this a Choose Your Own Adventure letter?”’

“What? But how?” Rainbow Dash mumbled aloud.

‘That’s right. I know your secret. You, Rainbow Dash, are an ‘egghead’.’

Rainbow Dash slammed her forehooves onto the table and cried, “No! That’s not true!” And, naturally, that made Scootaloo pause midbite to stare at her. “I, uh – I just – well – um…” She gave up. “I don’t even know how to lie my way out of this. Just be patient with me, Squirt.”

“Uh-huh…” Scootaloo hummed skeptically. Nonetheless, she didn’t ask any questions yet.

Now very wary of the deceptively innocent princess’s letter, Rainbow Dash read, ‘You have nothing to be ashamed of, Reading Rainbow.’ She groaned at the second most name she’d hoped to never hear again, just after Rainbow Crash. ‘Some of the most interesting and powerful ponies in the world absolutely adore reading. Ponies like Archmage Twilight Sparkle, Princess Celestia, and Prince Consort (that still cracks me up) Shining Armor, to name a few of the most obvious ones. Even I maintain a hobby as an author. Of course, while I have little doubt none of your friends would think less of you if they found out, a secret kept for so long has power.

‘You plan on accepting my offer – turn to page two

‘You brave my displeasure – turn to page four’

Rainbow Dash gulped and turned to the fourth – and worse, not final – page in the letter. A doodle of Princess Cadenza sighing served there as a drop cap.

‘While I cannot say I’m surprised to see you here, I had held out hope that the Wonderbolts were just trying to prevent me from poaching fresh talent from them. From what my agents tell me–’

She has agents? Oh Celestia, of course she does. Everypony knew the archmage and the princess got on well with her. All Princess Cadenza had to do was ask one of them.

‘–you have a couple reasons for staying in Ponyville by the names of Fluttershy and Scootaloo. We investigated, naturally, and I intend to offer the latter a place at my new school. I also happened to hear a juicy piece of gossip about one of her friends that will make the move very appealing to her.

‘As for Fluttershy, it might surprise you how few ponies there are with her particular field of expertise. The royal menagerie’s current caretaker, Mr Greenhooves, is looking to take on an apprentice so he can retire. It’s a quiet job. Lots of time to yourself. The menagerie isn’t open to the public, you see. I may have dropped her name to him.

‘You now understand that resistance is futile – turn to page two

‘You tempt fate – turn to page five’

Rainbow Dash took a hesitant peek at page five.

‘You know, as a government employee, I can transfer you anywhere I want. Your only options would be to quit, comply, or hope that, with enough public grovelling in open court, my aunt will overrule my decision.’

And that was enough for Rainbow Dash. Out of morbid curiosity, she flipped to the end of the letter. The only option at the bottom was to turn to the second page, so she did so without further resistance, for it was, indeed, futile.

‘Excellent choice! Enclosed, you will find a ticket for a private carriage on the line to Canterlot. You may bring anypony you like with you to the meeting, within reason, should you wish for company or advice. When you arrive, give your name to the guards at the main gate of the castle. They will escort you to me.

‘This early in the project, I doubt I will take too much of your time. Mostly, I want a chance to get to know you a little better and answer any questions you might have. We can make this a day trip if you wish. If not, I can offer accommodations at the castle for you and any guests you bring.

‘See you tomorrow,

‘Princess Cadance’

Rainbow Dash leaned forward until her chest bumped against the table, whereupon she let her head droop in defeat. Princess Cadance, she supposed it was, had politely uprooted her life in one fell swoop, and there wasn’t much she could do without ruining the opportunities Fluttershy and Scootaloo had in front of them now.

“What is it? What’s wrong? How can I help?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about, Squirt.” Rainbow Dash folded up the letter and tucked it under her leg for now. “I’ve just been drafted, is all.”

“What? Why? I thought they haven’t done that for centuries. Can they even do that anymore?”

If Rainbow Dash correctly remembered the government course she’d had to take to become Ponyville’s weather manager, Princess Celestia still could in certain circumstances. Not that it really mattered. “It’s just a figure of speech. Though I see Cheerilee has been teaching you well.”

Scootaloo blushed and averted her eyes. “We just had a history test at the end of the spring term.”

“Hey, it’s cool. Knowledge is power and all that.”

Turning back and more confused than before, Scootaloo uttered a mere, “Huh?”

“Our princess drafted me into teaching. Might as well start playing the part.” At a mutter, Rainbow Dash added, “Not like I don’t do it already.”

Stunned, Scootaloo took a few moments to recover. Once she had, she said, “That’s not fair! She can’t do that to you.”

Rainbow Dash eyed the pages of increasing levels of royal prerogative still floating in the air next to her. “No, she totally can. I mean, she can’t absolutely force me to, but…”

The table fell silent.

“Does this mean you’re going away?” Scootaloo asked at a whisper.

Nodding, Rainbow Dash said, “From Ponyville, probably.” It’d be a hassle to commute even if she could make the flight in far less than an hour. “From you, not necessarily.”

“What do you mean?”

Rainbow Dash really, truly hoped that little spark of hope in Scootaloo’s eyes wasn’t about adoption. She was not ready to have that level of responsibility in her life, and she knew it. “Princess Cadenza wrote that she’s got a place for you in the fancy magic school she’s opening for pegasi. If you want to come.”

“Of course I do! Ponyville would be so boring without you.”

“What about the Crusaders?” Rainbow Dash asked. “Won’t you miss them?”

Scootaloo wore guilt far too poorly for somepony who’d caused so much trouble in her short life. “Well, yeah… But Sweetie Belle has this super cool new spell that lets her send letters to anypony. We have pen pals in Canterlot I can hang out with, and they send letters back the same way, so, you know, it’s something.”

Huh. Guess that explains what the princess meant about one of Scootaloo’s friend. “So who are these pen pals of yours?”

“You’re not going to believe this. They’re Spike and Flurry, a dragon and a princess.”

The table fell silent once more.

Rainbow Dash opened her mouth, but no words came out.

“I know! So awesome, right!”

Shaking her head, Rainbow Dash pushed away the first concerns that came to mind. She didn’t want to think about what the Crusaders could get up to with the ear of royalty. Nor did she want to know how they’d met a dragon of all creatures. She was sure there was a long and convoluted story for that one which she’d regret hearing as soon as it finished. What she didn’t know, she couldn’t be held responsible for. Instead, she just said, “You realize Princess Flurry Heart is Princess Cadance’s daughter, right?”

That took the wind right out of Scootaloo’s wings. “Well, yeah, but…”

Rainbow Dash grinned. “It’s cool, Squirt. I’m just messing with you.”

“Oh. Right! So we met after Index needed to send off a secret message to HQ but couldn’t because of the whole hospitalized thing, so she taught Sweetie Belle the… What did she call it? Flame sending spell? Whatever. She taught her how to send things to herself and then Spike, who happens to be the archmage’s son.”

How Rainbow Dash managed not to choke on her dinner, she would never know. After forcing it down, she said, “Wait, time out. You mean when you were going on about Index being a secret agent this morning, you had actual proof?”

“Yeah, duh!” A moment passed. “I suppose I probably should have mentioned that earlier.”

“You probably shouldn’t have said anything at all,” Rainbow Dash countered. Secrecy was in the name. “But go on.” She might offer to help when she got back to Ponyville the day after tomorrow. How cool would that be? One last hurrah before she got stuck in a boring teaching position. Not that weather management was all that interesting, but it did give a mare of her talents an enormous amount of free time. And if nothing else, it’d be perfect counter blackmail material if she tries to tell anypony about the library.

It was with no small amount of hesitation that Flash knocked on the office door for the Captain of the Royal Guard. Captain Armor rarely jumped over the chain of command to speak directly, one-on-one, face-to-face like this with his ponies. Twilight Sparkle’s protective big brother, Shining Armor, was a different story, but rank never played into those intimidation sessions.

The door swung open without warning to reveal a furiously pacing Captain Armor on the other side. He stopped only momentarily a few moments later to order Flash to, “Get in already.” He all but slammed the door closed once Flash had entered.

“Er, Captain, is something wrong?”

For a few seconds, Flash wondered if Captain Armor had even heard the question, because, in hindsight, it was a stupid one, but then he stopped pacing. His brow furrowed ever more deeply. He tilted his head up to stare at some blank spot on the wall. “Secrets, secrets, and more secrets. To top it all off, something has my sister spooked.”

Oh, that’s not good. It took an awful lot to scare the invincible archmage.

“Not that it’s any concern of yours. You’re fired.”

“What?” Flash said, shocked. That had been so sudden.

Captain Armor continued on without an clarification or explanation. “Pack your things and be gone by sunrise tomorrow.”

“But, Sir, why?”

A sheet of paper flew from the captain’s desk in the light pink of his magic. He didn’t reveal its contents, but Flash recognized the standard form from having to fill out a couple himself on behalf of other staff in the castle.

“You pushed the wrong buttons one time too many,” Captain Armor said. As his eyes swept back and forth across the paper, they stopped on something interesting. He snorted with an amused smirk. “Still doesn’t know your name.” He returned the document from whence it came. “Ah well. Sorry, Flash. You’re a good guard, but such is life. I’m sure the police or the army will take you in.”

As if that would be any substitute! Flash stood a little straighter. “Captain, I have done nothing that would raise to the level of a formal complaint. I wish to protest this decision.”

Captain Armor pursed his lips. “Everything has to be difficult,” he muttered. Then to Flash, he said, “Okay, I’m going to level with you. We both know who submitted the complaint. We both know how much power and latitude the Princess has given her over the years. We both know that if she wants you gone, you’re gone. She doesn’t need a reason.” He locked eyes with Flash. “You want to make this go away?”

While he didn’t want to make it go away so much as have it never have happened, Flash nodded.

“Then it’s easy. Just stop jogging her memory. She identified you as ‘that pegasus I throw out the window’. Didn’t even know what color your coat is. She’ll forget all about you. I won’t say anything. The odds she’ll remember she even bothered to halfway fill out a complaint are nearly zero. Life carries on. All you have to do is stop pursuing her.”

As simple as that sounded on paper, it wouldn’t stop his heart from fluttering when she passed nor help his impulse control when it came to her. Flash did so wish to have even the chance to defrost Equestria’s ice queen, to help her learn to truly let other ponies in. Some of the things Spike said, too young to have the kind of filter the rest of her family possessed or the perspective to know what was normal, were distinctly worrying. Like, who turned down the chance to relax and celebrate the successful end of a long, difficult case in favor of locking herself away from the world to do even more work?

“I don’t think I can do that,” Flash said, not so long as she remained unattached, at least.

“Then this is the end of you career here. As a professional, I’m sorry to see you go.”

Flash managed a weak smile. “And as a brother?”

“Oh, as a brother, I’d be happy to personally kick you out the door. My sister is a precious flower who will forever bloom alone untouched, admired only from afar.” Captain Armor laughed. “Honestly, I thought she would have scared off all her suitors by now, but I suppose there will always be ponies like you with no sense of self-preservation. Not a day goes by when our parents don’t tell me somepony new has shown up at their door to harass them. None nearly as bad as Blueblood, but still. I at least respect you for not going down that route.”

A shiver washed over Flash. He’d been around to see the aftermath of that debacle. The little petty displays of annoyance the archmage directed at him were nothing compared when somepony actually made her angry.

“Anyway, last chance to change your decision. You taking it?”

Flash shook his head. He knew himself too well. How could he ever not find himself fascinated with the most interesting mare in Equestria? “It’s not so bad.” If he told himself that enough, maybe it would be true. “Worse come to worst, I have an in to come visit from time to time.” Although he did wonder how Spike would react if the archmage ever actually took a lover. Probably wouldn’t be with more laughter.

While Captain Armor arched an eyebrow at the claim, he didn’t inquire. “Take care of yourself, Flash. The Royal Guard will be happy to give you a reference.”

Flash gave his thanks, such as they were, and left the office. He didn’t want to linger another night in the barracks, so he gathered what few physical possessions he had there and headed out. He could commiserate with his friends amongst the guard over drinks some other time. One of the side exits, he decided, would serve him best: better he blend in a little on his departure than make a show of it flying away or trudging through the main gate.

Once he was outside the castle, Flash stopped to consider where he would go from there. He didn’t have family in town, so he’d probably have to rent a room at an inn for now. Then he supposed he could take the advice given to him and see if the Canterlot Police Department would take him. He knew the law well enough to do the job and was good enough in a scrap to take down the average unicorn. It would be a living.

With one last sigh and glance back at the castle, Flash adjusted the load on his back and set off.

“Huh. You’re really gonna do it.”

What? Isn’t that–

Before Flash had time to process what was happening, he found himself both back in Captain Armor’s office and very thankful that he tolerated teleportation better than most ponies. Nothing really had changed in perhaps the half hour since he’d left, although the captain himself now wore a slightly less stern expression.

“You’re an idiot,” Captain Armor deadpanned, “but congratulations on your promotion, Sergeant.”

A moment passed.

What? “This was a test?” Flash asked, the strain in his voice obvious.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Captain Armor at least had the decency to actually look a little apologetic. “But when I said something has Twily spooked, I meant it. She already had me rake Incog over the coals for an unrelated matter and sound out her loyalties.”

“Incog? Director of the EIS, Incog?”

Captain Armor nodded with a grave, tired expression. “She’s wants everypony vetted. And I mean everypony, not just the scoundrels she picks up and puts to work.”

Well, that certainly shed a different light on the ridiculous test of character Flash had just undergone. It still annoyed him without question, but– “Wait.” He just realized something more important. “Then that complaint–”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, she deals with problems a thousand times bigger than you on a daily basis. You’re not even on her radar.”

That came simultaneously as a relief, a strange disappointment, and an annoyance for how smugly satisfied the captain looked when he said that. Then Flash finally processed the other bit of news.

“Hang on, promotion? You’re making me sergeant?”

Whilst humming an affirmative, Captain Armor opened a drawer of his desk. He removed a file from it and passed it off to Flash. “I’m putting you in charge of security for the Summer Sun Celebration in Ponyville. All the information you’ll need is in there. You’ll head out tomorrow morning. I would say it shouldn’t be a very difficult first assignment, but, well, try to keep at least part of the town intact.”

Flash arched his eyebrows.

“You’ll understand when you get there. It’s a strange place.”

Skipping over any proper explanation, Captain Armor’s horn lit up. A small illusion of a rather bookish looking mare appeared atop his desk. Flash, as he was trained to do, quickly noted the three primary means of identifying ponies – mane, coat, and cutie mark – and then turned his gaze back up.

“This is Index Code. She’s in change of the festival preparations.”

She certainly looked the type for administrative work. “What’s the catch?” Flash asked. Surely Captain Armor wouldn’t have put him through such a drawn out test just for a routine, annual holiday.

“I want you to keep an eye on her whenever you can. And for both our sakes, don’t let her notice you doing so.”

“I see.” Flash scrutinized the image closer. She looked harmless, hardly fit for treachery, but things weren’t always as they appeared. “What has she done to make you suspicious of her?”

Captain Armor laughed. “I think you have the wrong impression. Her real name is Twilight Sparkle.”

Oh. That certainly changed things.

“I’m sending you because you’re too pathetically, hopelessly smitten to work against her.”

With a huff, Flash said, “Rude.”

“But true nonetheless,” Captain Armor retorted. “Whatever reason she suddenly has to be worried about traitors, I trust you’re not going to be the one to stick a knife her back.”

As if that even needed to be said.

“Now then, there’s something else you’re going to need to know. This year’s celebration has a major complication. Princess Celestia has a sister…”

A loud crash of who knew what falling to the ground filled the alley. A stray cat let out a displeased hiss over the disturbance. If anypony saw what had happened, nothing came of it. Sweetie Belle, heedless to anything in her way, stumbled forward with her vision swimming away from the heart of Ponyville as fast as she could. She couldn’t take it anymore. She should have better heeded the archmage’s warning. It was too much, too overwhelming. It felt like her ears were bleeding, but she couldn’t numb the pain. She’d tried.

A stack of crates moved into Sweetie Belle’s path and rudely pushed her to the ground. As much as she wanted to curl up into a little ball and cry, she hurriedly got to her hooves, apologized to the inanimate objects, and pressed on. The voices wouldn’t stop if she stayed here.

“–hay, bread, almonds–”

“–was the archmage really–”

“–book is overdue. I need to–”

“–what those blank flanks–”

“–cannot believe how amazing–”

Sweetie Belle wanted to scream. If it was just a swarm of ponies endlessly chattering about nothing, she might be able to tune them out. But everything echoed. Every sound, every word, every sneeze, every cough, once unleashed, spread across every mind nearby, none in sync with each other. It all hit her at once, digging into her skull, demanding attention and overtaxing her poor brain. She couldn’t process even a fraction of the chaos, and even her own thoughts were drowned out in the cacophony.

“–know, right? What was she–”

“–I never thought she would–”

“–wundrung æt−hwega hit hê–”

“–he ever stop talking–”

“–no, I needed to replace the–”

A mud puddle from last night’s rain, so very uncouth by nature, crossed Sweetie Belle’s path. She put one hoof on it, and it knocked her completely off balance. She ended up tumbling into it. Now wet, filthy, and even more frustrated, she rose back to her hooves and pressed on, trying not to cry.

And then, as though her perseverance had been rewarded, there was sweet, blissful silence. Sweetie Belle didn’t care how. It didn’t matter. She was finally alone in her head again. She collapsed forward flat onto the ground, not even bothering to tuck her legs in against her barrel. She had peace at last.

An eternity passed before Sweetie Belle finally cared to open her eyes and determine what had brought an end to her suffering. Somehow, it seemed, she’d managed to jump from the center of Ponyville to an empty field near Saddle Lake. Any other day, that might alarm her or even excite her. Who knew? Perhaps she’d spontaneously learned to teleport! Maybe that would earn her a cutie mark at long last! But such was her exhaustion that she didn’t even check her blank flank.

Huh? As she slowly surveyed the area around her, Sweetie Belle’s eyes landed on a mare sitting alone atop a picnic blanket a fair distance off. It seemed like she was brewing tea while simultaneously preparing a potion. Apple Bloom had a taste for Zebrican alchemy, and it at least looked like a similar setup to hers. Upon closer inspection, the mare looked familiar. Is that Index? It has to be. If nothing else, it certainly explained how Sweetie Belle had ended up out here in the middle of nowhere. Index must have come to rescue her from her own poor decisions.

Chagrined, now both a thief and a failure, Sweetie Belle began the walk of shame toward Index. What must she think of her now? Archmage Twilight had said she wouldn’t be mad, but that was before Sweetie Belle had failed so spectacularly in the task set out before her. And wasn’t that a sobering, dream shattering thought? She’d failed the one simple test her idol had given her. It was vain of her to even dare imagine she could one day be like the archmage.

Sweetie Belle slowed as she neared the strange picnic. Generosity had long since picked up Index’s thoughts, but they were in a language she didn’t recognize. From how they flittered about as Index worked, fragmented and half-formed, they felt less like real thoughts than flashes of instructions she’d long since learned to follow with an idle horn without conscious attention.

Far too quickly for her liking, Sweetie Belle stood at the edge of the picnic blanket. Her gaze fell to her hooves, and she dared not cross that final threshold uninvited. She shook but gathered what courage she had left. “Index.”

Index’s thoughts suspended for a moment. Then she turned to look at the one who’d disturbed her work. “Oh, Sweetie Belle. Obviously. How are you feeling? Give me a moment, please. I need to finish this.”

The string of short sentences had come in a flurry. Sweetie Belle managed to catch them all, but only barely. Thankfully, they didn’t echo either, which she supposed made sense. Only words spoken aloud, her own included, would do that.

So Sweetie Belle waited. Index had asked a question, but she’d also said not to bother her, and if that forestalled her coming judgment, then so be it.

It was a few minutes before Index finally finished whatever she was doing. She let out an accomplished sigh once she had. Then after pouring a single cup of tea, she added a small dose of the potion in her cauldron, thereafter stirring the mixture together. “Do you like sugar?”

“Ah! Oh, um, yes.”

Index pulled some sugar lumps from nowhere and threw them into the tea as well. Then as she cleaned up, her brewing equipment vanishing presumably to wherever the sugar had come from, she held the teacup out invitingly. “Here. Princess Celestia swore by this recipe back when she bore Generosity. It should ease the pain.”

“I… Thank you.” Sweetie Belle took the drink and sipped at it cautiously. To her surprise, it didn’t have the usual nasty potion taste she’d expected. It certainly wasn’t good by any metric, but neither was it so awful that she needed something else to wash it down with. And as she swallowed more and more of it, she felt the fatigue and strain on her mind lessen.

Yet this act of kindness and generosity only brought into sharp relief how much Sweetie Belle had done wrong. “Index,” she whispered, her voice cracking, “I’m – I’m s-so sorry. I stole the E – Element of Generosity.”

“No apology necessary, but you’re forgiven nonetheless. I forgot that what I’d asked of you would put you in the proximity of four Elements. That was my fault.”

Sweetie Belle tried to tell Index that she didn’t need to apologize, but it didn’t work.

“Even if I was a bit out of it at the time, I was negligent. There’s an assumption of responsibility for carrying around magical artifacts, and however well it turned out in the end, I failed in my duty there. That’s something you need to understand if you want to continue walking the path of magic. But more importantly, I failed in my responsibility to you. I hope you can accept my apology. It won’t happen again.”

“But – but you don’t need to…” Under the look Index leveled on Sweetie Belle, as though she’d not heard a single word, she trailed off and changed tack. “Um… No apology necessary, but you’re forgiven nonetheless?”

Index rolled her eyes. “Very well. On another note, from what I’m told, Generosity didn’t awaken for you until recently, which means you never physically touched it until then. That’s an impressive level of mental discipline. Especially for your age.” She paused a moment, likely for effect the way Rarity would on occasion. “Why didn’t you just take Generosity off earlier?”

A few moments passed in silence.

“Oops.”

Despite the context, Index still smiled and indulged in a smothered, guilty laugh or two. “I understand,” she said. “Taking an Element off isn’t easy, and Generosity is supposedly the most addictive of the entire set.”

That made Sweetie Belle feel slightly better about such an obvious mistake.

“At any rate, we need to talk about where we’re to go from here. Generosity is yours for life, and we need the Elements of Harmony in the near future.” Index held up a hoof to forestall Sweetie Belle’s questions. “This is classified information, so I need you to–” She hesitated a second before letting out a small sigh. “–Pinkie Promise not to share any of it without permission.”

As requested, Sweetie Belle ran through the motions. “Can I at least tell my friends?”

After another longer moment of hesitation, Index replied, “Only the Crusaders, and only if they first Pinkie Promise as well.”

“And Rarity?”

“She knows the broad strokes already,” Index replied. “Archmage Twilight spoke with her earlier today after she found Generosity in your possession.”

Sweetie Belle nodded. That seemed more than fair enough, all things considered. Thus did Index then inform her about Princess Luna, Princess Celestia’s sister, whose alias happened to be the Nightmare Moon of legend and who might not be as evil as expected but certainly had a familial grudge to settle.

“I’ll help!” Sweetie Belle volunteered immediately long before Index even asked. That was obviously what she was leading up to, and the Elements must play a crucial role in defeating Nightmare Moon.

Index huffed, clearly a little put out at her lecture being short-circuited. “In the interest of full disclosure so an antagonistic dramatic reveal can’t ruin everything, I have a lot of secrets. You’ll learn a few soon. Some, later. Many, never. One secret you need to know up front is that the Elements of Harmony, which is what the full set of the Elements is called, are powered by friendship.”

That seems a little…

“Yes, I know,” Index said as though she could read Sweetie Belle’s mind. “Regardless, I want you to know that I was considering this before I found out you had Generosity. Would you like to become my official protégé?”

Sweetie Belle fell into silent shock.

“This really is a genuine offer, not just because of the Elements. You have real talent I’d like to help nurture. Honesty can detect subjective truth, so you can verify that later if you wish. I’ve never really taught before, so I’ll understand if–”

No longer able to contain herself, Sweetie Belle let out an excited shriek of delight. She pranced in place in the futile hope of expending some of the energy swelling up within her. “Yes, please!” She finally had a teacher! And not just any teacher, but one of the most amazing unicorns in Equestria! One who worked closely with the archmage, even! She couldn’t help but squeal again. “I’m so excited I could burst!” How could such a nightmarish day turn into the best one of her life so quickly?

Index, so insouciant to such a monumental event, said, “Well, I’m glad you’re happy. While you burn off a bit of that passion, where did you hide my papers?”

“Huh? Oh, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and I buried them by the zap apple grove on Sweet Apple Acres.”

With a nod, Index said, “I’ll be right back. This won’t take long.”

Index teleported away, leaving Sweetie Belle alone. With the privacy given to her, she didn’t feel embarrassed to dance about and sing her glee to the sky without any real direction or intention. This was like every Hearth’s Warming and birthday for the rest of her life come early! The only thing that could make today better was if she got her cutie mark and Index revealed that she’d secretly been Archmage Twilight all along.

Without fanfare, Index returned in a blink. That remained as amazing as it had been when Sweetie Belle had seen Sun Wisp do it. She couldn’t wait to learn how to do it herself!

“By the way,” Index began, “I should probably mention that learning under me is going to be a lot different than you’re used to from school. You’re going to need a lot of self-motivation to get much out of me.”

Sweetie Belle had that in spades. All of the Crusaders did. “What’s my first lesson?”

“Did you finish your last one?”

In all the excitement, Sweetie Belle had entirely forgotten about that. She’d chosen Rarity’s gem-finding spell and had an entire list back at home, but she did her best to rattle off everything she could remember writing down. “And the last one I can recall is using it as an improvised tracking spell. You would only need to stick a small gem – a sliver, really – onto something to make it work.”

“Good enough,” Index said. “The exercise is what mattered, not the submission. Your next assignment will be somewhat similar. Do you remember the duel between Trixie and the archmage?”

Sweetie Belle nodded her head excitedly. How could she forget such a spectacle?

“Excellent. Figure out how they did everything. And do recall that they only used first year spells from Princess Celestia’s school.”

Sweetie Belle raised a hoof. After being told that she didn’t have to do that, she asked the obvious question. “What spells does the curriculum consist of?”

“Who knows?” Index replied with a grin that said she knew. “You already have all the tools you need to complete this assignment without me giving you that information. You’re free to ask for help from anyone you wish otherwise, however.”

Her face scrunched into a thoughtful frown, Sweetie Belle considered how to approach the problem. She ultimately just needed to talk to somepony who’d been to the school to find out what spells she had to work with. No, even simpler than that, she only needed to get her hooves on a copy of the textbooks the school used – particularly the ones used during the time when Trixie attended the school. She doubted the Golden Oak Library had them, and she didn’t know how old Trixie was either. She supposed she could just ask Trixie, but that felt too much like just asking Index and obviating the point of the exercise. What she really needed was a contact in Canterlot.

Except she had one of those, didn’t she? Two, actually, both of whom were probably capable of getting her the information she needed. It would be a pain to write it all down, but perhaps they wouldn’t have to. “Index? Can the flame sending spell send more than letters?”

Index kept her face carefully blank. “Before I answer that, I want to point out two things. First, ‘can I do X’ is always a good question to ask. Second, when you don’t know, the next question to ask should usually be ‘is it safe to do X’. Magic is very dangerous if mishandled. Do you understand?”

Sweetie Belle nodded. She’d never hurt herself or her friends with it, but she could easily imagine ways in which she could.

“Then to answer your question, the flame sending spell can send anything dragonfire can burn. That does not include magic in general. I want to be very clear on this, because you would not be the first clever student to try it. The flame sending spell is not a clunky way to teleport. If you cast it on something living and magical, the subject will die. This includes, as far as I’m aware, everything that can talk. Understood?”

Nodding solemnly, Sweetie Belle tried not to think about the first clever student who’d not had that warning or who’d disregarded it. The beginnings of a Pinkie Promise had just passed her lips when Index snapped her mouth closed.

“Don’t.” Index pursed her lips, her thoughts galloping in another language. “Sweetie Belle, this… This isn’t something I wanted to mention so soon, but I have enemies beyond Princess Luna. There are less harmful and more efficient ways to defend yourself, but if you’re desperate…”

Sweetie Belle swallowed. She understood Index perfectly. Rather than letting either of them dwell on it, she nodded her head with all the weight the moment deserved and then pressed on. She’d already gotten the information she’d needed for her assignment anyway. “So who are the other bearers?”

Their names flashed through Index’s mind in an instant. In addition to the two of them, Pinkie and Lyra had an Element as well.

“Pinkie Pie has Kindness. Lyra has Honesty,” Index clarified. “I haven’t found bearers for Laughter and Loyalty yet.”

When Sweetie Belle asked why not, Index briefly summarized her time in Ponyville and how she’d spent it looking for suitable bearers. It was, by and large, the tale of a mare who felt out of place and was far outside her comfort zone.

“Can’t you just nudge everypony with the Elements and take whoever you get?”

Index didn’t respond for a few seconds, although her thoughts were not silent. “The idea had occurred to me when this all started, but I think I’ve been so overwhelmed by the social aspect of this that I forgot. I might just try my preferences first tomorrow and then brute force Laughter’s and Loyalty’s awakenings if that doesn’t work.”

“Ooh! You could try–”

“No foals,” Index said. “It’s bad enough I put you in the line of fire.”

Sweetie Belle pouted but didn’t argue. Grown ups were always like that, and they never changed their minds. Then as her own thoughts wandered back to her assignment while Index’s likely considered who to test tomorrow, she recalled something she’d forgotten to ask. “Hey, Index? What Element do you have?”

A smirk grew on Index’s face. “Why, the best one for a sorceress such as myself, of course: Magic.”

Oh, that was so not fair!

Moon Dancer’s head snapped toward the pull of a rare magic so powerful and ancient, it swept past all of the castle’s defenses and even the the extra ones Twilight had layered upon her tower. Her grip on the documents she’d been looking for faded away. Her hooves led her toward the stairs. Her chest felt heavy, each breath coming with more effort, and silent tears fell from her eyes.

As she climbed, Moon Dancer felt the magic’s grip on her strengthen. It clawed at her heart, drowning her under the dizzying weight of feelings not her own. When she reached the highest floor, she trudged her way to a window to stare soulfully up at the moon. The faint sound of music carried on the wind, a haunting melody of strings.

Moon Dancer rose her own voice to the sky and joined the heartsong in full. Despite the lump in her throat, despite her utter lack of training, it sounded out pitch-perfect and crystal clear. The words came unbidden but known as surely as she knew her own name, and she knew at once who was at the center of this heartsong. Who else but Princess Celestia would sing a soul-crushing lullaby to Princess Luna in Old Ponish?

The song carried on for ages long past when Moon Dancer’s trembling legs should have given out on her. But at long last, the song ended. The music faded. She collapsed onto her barrel. She’d never been caught up in a heartsong before, but they weren’t supposed to be so raw, were they? If so, her books had not prepared her for them.

Moon Dancer turned her tired body up to scan the sky. A tiny speck of white moving too fast against the night’s darkness to be a star stuck out to her. It slowed until it ultimately came to a rest behind a cloud.

Groaning as she did, Moon Dancer rose to her hooves. This is the real reason Twilight brought you here, she reminded herself. Get moving.

The cloudwalking spell required little power or training, but getting to Princess Celestia’s elevation without wings would be more of a challenge. Moon Dancer didn’t often have cause to push herself so far, but it should be well within her capabilities. After adding a few extra spells to protect her from the wind and temperature, she summoned up her magic and teleported into the sky. Her aim was a little off, but a slightly startled Princess Celestia caught her and deposited her on the same cloud before she started to fall.

Princess Celestia said nothing, but she offered a soft, apologetic smile before returning her gaze to the moon.

“Are you…okay?”

“Of course.” It was an obvious lie, but Princess Celestia didn’t really seem to be entirely here right now.

Moon Dancer hesitated to push. What was she supposed to say to somepony older than she could trace her own ancestry back? What would Twilight do in this situation? The major trouble with that question, however, was she imagined Twilight asked herself a similar one in these sorts of situations.

“Princess,” Moon Dancer hesitantly began, “that song…”

“Hmm?” A blink, then another, a third, and then finally Princess Celestia’s attention returned to this world. “Oh yes. Call it a bout of nostalgia. I used to sing to her.”

Moon Dancer didn’t need to ask who she was, just as she knew very well that such passive emotions never gave birth to heartsongs so wrought with grief and regret. “According to–”

“Your concern does you credit, my little pony, but it was merely an old song I remembered. Nothing more.”

There may have been politer ways to tell Moon Dancer to mind her own business, but she had trouble thinking of any right now. Maybe that hadn’t been the right approach to take. Twilight could probably get away with it and even make it work, but not her. She didn’t have the prerequisite bond with the princess or even the most basic knowledge of what it was like to have a sibling.

Moon Dancer settled onto her rear with her arms extended to prop up the rest of her body. What good was she doing here? She should just call Twilight back to Canterlot for the night. Or maybe Princess Cadance could serve as a substitute? She and Princess Celestia did seem to be on very good terms with one another.

“It’s time I turn in for the night,” Princess Celestia suddenly declared. “Do try to get to bed yourself at a somewhat decent hour. You never know what surprises await you in your dreams.”

That last remark felt like it had a deeper significance to it, but Moon Dancer didn’t have the chance to ask before Princess Celestia allowed herself to sink through the cloud. The telltale heavy sound of air meeting wings came soon after. When she leaned over the edge of the cloud, Moon Dancer found the princess gliding down toward the balcony of her chambers at a sluggish pace that would barely keep her airborne.

Twilight, this isn’t working. I can do paperwork and keep her mind off of other things during the day, but I can’t pull her out of a depression that deep. She needs you, not some two-bit stand-in.

Moon Dancer silently turned her eyes up to the moon and wondered how, even if Twilight succeeded in her task, this story would have a happy ending.

In the library of her dreams, Twilight hummed a cheery little song whose words she couldn’t remember as she worked on a long-term lesson plan for Sweetie Belle. They wouldn’t have much time before the solstice for much of anything, but it always paid to be prepared. Afterward, she would need to find a way to make more free time for herself to give Sweetie Belle the attention she deserved.

Perhaps even with Honesty in play and the bargaining power it gave her, Lyra could still be convinced to take on some work. She had the necessary experience, and Bon Bon – Sweetie Drops – whatever she wanted to go by, had all but said Lyra needed the income, never mind the relationship between those two which Twilight was totally not thinking about right now because it would ruin her mood. She could send Lyra out with some of the other misfits who’d sincerely asked for a second chance over the years as an elite team in her place whenever Sweetie Belle needed her. And maybe a few times when she just wanted some extra time to herself as well.

“You seem unusually merry tonight,” Luna observed as she entered the library. “Did something good happen?”

Twilight finished the last of a list she’d been making with a flourish of her quill. “I acquired a brilliant little protégé for myself,” she all but sang. “And if you touch her, I will destroy you.”

Luna laughed, but Twilight had meant every word, and she probably knew that as well. She certainly knew Twilight could follow through on the threat, at least. “You needn’t worry. I understand the feeling. Although I never took you for the teaching type.”

“It depends on who you’re teaching,” Twilight countered.

“Verily so.” Luna’s tone was bittersweet. “My last student wished for more than I could give. A misstep of mine, I fear, for I knew the chief failing of her character yet tripped over it regardless. I hope to reconcile with her upon my return, but…”

Twilight snorted, more amused than she probably should be. Sounds like Luna has a Sunset of her own. “You and Celestia…” was all she said, shaking her head. I swear, if I unleash a third Sunset into the world…

“Yes, Sunset Shimmer. I’ve heard her tale and cannot say I don’t sympathize.”

Then you should have no problem letting her have the Crystal Empire. Twilight kept that to herself for now, of course. She wasn’t yet sure how she felt about that prospect. Sunset would be a competent ruler, she knew, and at worst a nominal ally regardless of whether Luna won or lost. It would keep Cadance, Shining, and Flurry in Equestria as well, which would likely be a better division of pony resources regardless of her own personal desires. She really shouldn’t make that sort of decision unilaterally, but Celestia had more or less ceded Equestria to her over the past few weeks. Technicalities, sure, and selfish, undoubtedly, but she wanted to keep her family close. Besides, it wasn’t like they were likely to want to go rule over some place they’d never heard of anyway.

“Let us not dwell on such things,” Luna said as she emerged from her own thoughts first. “Everyone is downstairs waiting for you to join your dreamwarming party.”

Oh yeah, that’s a thing. Twilight was in too good a mood to care. “Lead on, then.”

Author's Notes:

Behold! A shameless promotion for my Patreon.

---

Revision Notes - July 10th (2020)

Chapter Twelve - The Great Bearer Hunt

It’d been the perfect distraction. As far as anypony knew, she’d never stepped foot in the empire during the battle.

The dreamwarming party was in full swing, if a small, quiet gathering of six people could be termed as such. They’d ended up playing a homebrew version of a diplomacy and conquest board game which, although it’d turned into a six hour long waste of time they didn’t even finish before Berry Punch woke up but would continue the next night if Twilight had anything to say about it, had nonetheless managed to suck her into analyzing her every move and overall strategy. People who didn’t play to win were filth.

Down one member, the group had set the game aside and descended into casual chatting. Twilight just sat quietly and listened for the most part, politely answering whatever questions came her way and then effortlessly deflecting conversation back onto someone else. She had a lot of experience enforcing her wallflower status and happily continued her craft.

Or she had until Autumn had insisted on playing charades. Twilight glared at the card held in her magic with a gaze that could set it on fire if she wanted. She knew someone – probably Autumn, maybe Luna – had stacked the deck. This could not be coincidence. “Absolutely not,” she said as she put the card down.

Ember, of course, threw her hand over the deck when Twilight attempted to draw a new card. “Hey! I didn’t object when I got pronking, and I’m physically incapable of it.”

“Fair’s fair,” Seabreeze said, a smirk crawling up his face.

A glance at Luna and Autumn revealed equally eager expressions, neither giving away who’d put this trial before her. Unless they conspired together. Sighing, Twilight trudged out away from the group to take her turn. She lit up her horn, taking her entire body in her magical grasp.

“No magic!” Autumn protested. “We all agreed on that.”

Twilight couldn’t help the irritated snort that slipped out of her, but that only made her audience more determined. Thus resigned to her fate, she proceeded to humiliate herself. After thirty seconds of increasingly embarrassing guesses ranging from swimming to hypnotism, time ran out. No one got a point. She went back to her seat to sulk.

“Well, what was it?” Seabreeze asked.

Twilight didn’t answer and instead flung the card at him. Being a flimsy piece of laminated paper, it didn’t fly very well, and a stray fluctuation of air sent it careening toward Luna instead. She picked it up, read it, and then snickered. “Really, Twilight, surely my sister arranged for you to learn–”

“That’s none of your business.”

Autumn leaned over to read the card. “Oh. When you told me you don’t–”

“I’m magically coordinated, okay?” Twilight interjected. “I don’t need – dexterity is my dump stat.” Those were terms this group could understand.

“Let me see already.” Ember plucked the card from Autumn’s magic. “Dancing? You call that dancing?”

Twilight said nothing, which may have been a mistake, because Autumn answered for her. “I always thought she was just making excuses when she told me her dancing is a hazard to herself and others.”

With a harrumph, Twilight turned to lean into her seat so she could stare into the fascinating embroidered pattern of the cloth in its corner. She did recall saying something to that effect all those years ago.

The game continued until only Twilight and Luna remained asleep, as had already become routine. Luna never woke, it seemed, and Twilight went to bed later than everyone else.

“What?” Twilight asked when she noticed Luna staring at her with a smirk.

“Your dancing.”

Of course she’s still on about that. Twilight didn’t know what she’d expected. She’d heard little snickers and had been on the receiving end of amused looks ever since. “If you’re just going to make fun of me, you can leave.”

“Well,” Luna began with drawl, “there shall certainly be some teasing from time to time. It is irresistible, truly. But if all you need is a more–” She snickered. “–durable partner, I would volunteer to teach you.”

Twilight flatly refused with a, “No thanks.” She’d suffered enough indignities for one night already. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you tell me your story instead?”

“My story?” By the reluctant tone of her voice, Luna knew exactly what Twilight meant. Nonetheless, she waited for clarification.

“Yes, your story. How you got here. You and Celestia obviously stopped talking to each other at some point, so I want to compare notes with her side of the story.”

Luna scoffed at the request. “What point is there? You’ll not believe a word I say which runs counter to my all-knowing and infinitely benevolent sister’s.”

“Probably,” Twilight admitted openly and without hesitation. It was true, after all, and they both knew it. “But that doesn’t make what you believe any less important.”

Luna regarded Twilight warily. “I’m quite certain I already told you I went through therapy.”

“So?”

Neither said a word. While Luna scrutinized Twilight, now more alert than she had been the entire night, Twilight merely sat in place with conjured parchment and a quill made from her own feather at the ready. She held no delusions of being able to convince Luna to abandon her plans. That wasn’t the point of Twilight’s own backup plan. She was merely the bridge. If she could only get the sisters to talk to each other again – to, not just at – then perhaps this entire conflict could end amicably. Knowing Luna’s story was the first step to making that happen.

Luna finally relented. “Very well,” she said as she rose to her hooves. “I shall return shortly.” With those parting words, she trotted to the exit and left the dream behind. She returned a few minutes later with a book wrapped up in an arm and held tight against her chest. “Your word, Twilight Sparkle, that you will not read this without permission if you awaken before I return it to my own dreamscape.”

As far as temptations went, a likely centuries old book penned by a lost princess rated pretty high. Nonetheless, Twilight said, “Of course.”

Luna relaxed a little and let the book fall into her magic. It split open, and as she took the seat across from Twilight, the pages turned until she found whatever entry she wanted. “Alicorn memory is exceptional,” she began, “but even we are not immune to…reimaginings. Where do you wish to start?”

“Hmm…” If Twilight remembered correctly, Celestia had started with what Sombra did to Luna but had kind of glossed over the details. That could use some elaboration. “Tell me about Sombra.”

“A unicorn stallion with a brilliant mind he doesn’t deserve. He dabbled in the vilest of ancient magics and used them to wrest control of the Crystal Empire from my niece’s line through dubiously legal methods. By all accounts, he was a fair and just ruler on the surface. It wasn’t until near his fall that we learned of his true nature. He possesses a minor form of immortality. Although he still ages, presumably, he’s able to survive the destruction, for lack of a better word, of his body. Due to this, my sister and I banished him until we could better learn how to contain or execute him. We unfortunately never found his research notes, and the cumberworld managed to take the empire with him.”

While all that was interesting information, Twilight was distinctly unimpressed with the evasion and let Luna know it. She also made a note to research Sombra’s secrets if she had the chance. She didn’t expect them to advance her own pursuits, but one never knew what might help in the end.

Luna kept her face carefully blank as she flipped through her book. “I ask that you not judge me overly harshly. Sombra’s machinations against me were meticulous and crafted with care to avoid the Elements’ interference.”

“If what Celestia told me is true,” Twilight began, “I hardly hold you accountable for whatever you did.”

A tired sigh slipped past Luna’s lips. “It’s not so much what I did as what I intended to do.” She managed a weak smile. “But thank you. I doubt our accounts of this affair shall differ in anything but perspective.”

After a quick read through of several passages in her book, Luna nodded her head and returned back to where she’d begun. “I will not go into how, but Sombra managed to cast a bastardized version of a spell Discord was overly fond of on me. His intention, as we later learned, was to incite a conflict between my sister and I so he could appear when we’d worn each other out to ‘save’ the world from us and claim Equestria for himself.”

Twilight gagged. “Villains with good publicity are the worst.”

“Agreed. The enchantment he laid upon me caused me to grow more aggressive with Equestrian expansion. All the better for him in the end. It was a slow process, but it was only a matter of time before Sister and I butted heads. Equestria’s velvet glove could not abide its iron hoof acting unchecked. Nor would she have been wrong to stand in my way. It was a different time when Tartarus lay empty and might too often made right, yet even then, my policies were hard to justify and approaching inexcusable.

“Fortunately, an unrelated encounter with a magical artifact led me to ask Sister to perform a full examination of myself. The sort you bring snacks to. I imagine she still believes I found Sombra’s spell rather than it being a happy accident.” Luna narrowed her eyes and peered over the top of her book. “You’ll not correct that belief, I trust.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. As telling Celestia wouldn’t absolve her of whatever guilt she felt over the matter, Twilight merely made a small note to add it to her collection of friendly blackmail material.

“After we removed the spell, we moved to dispose of Sombra. You already know how that turned out.” Luna flipped forward past a good number of pages. “Once we returned home, I voluntarily ceded my throne to a trustworthy regent for a few years to rehabilitate myself.” Her eyes stared at nothing as nostalgia took her. “That was a fun time. Sister was most jealous.”

But Luna’s good mood soon darkened. “When I returned to Everfree and retook my throne, Sister had changed. I didn’t realize until it was too late, but she’d enjoyed her time as a monarch too much. She pushed me into the background while she basked in the love of our nation.”

Twilight briefly paused in her note-taking. This, she suspected, was the root of the royal sisters’ problems, the most fundamental misunderstanding between them. It wouldn’t be hard to explain Luna’s point of view to Celestia, but getting Luna to believe Celestia’s would be a far greater feat.

“I did all of the hard work while she sat behind a desk upon her cushions, received all the adulation, and left me to be forgotten,” Luna continued with rising passion. “We used to hold court together. We used to attend meetings together. We used to do everything together. But no longer! We held separate courts. Nearly all business went through hers. We went to separate appointments. She got foreign relations and fluff while I had to figure out how to–”

That, Twilight assumed, has to be the worst time I could have awoken. She sighed and snuggled tighter into her blankets. If she wanted to, she could put herself back to sleep. She’d gotten what she needed from that conversation, more or less, but she’d hoped to obtain more details. Alas, she had a job to do and an ever shrinking window of time in which to do it. She’d just have to hear the rest of Luna’s side of the story the next time they were alone together.

“Pinkie, you there?”

As might be expected for somepony who had a job with presumably regular hours, Pinkie Pie didn’t answer. But perhaps something more ridiculous might work.

“Pinkamena Diane Pie, I summon thee by thy true name.”

Twilight clicked her tongue. She hadn’t honestly expected that to work, but some little part of her had hoped. While she was tempted to just use magic to divine Pinkie Pie’s location, that would involve an awful lot of invasion of privacy for basically no reason. Indeed, after she got ready for the day and made her way downstairs, she found the subject of her inquiry baking cupcakes in Sugarcube Corner’s kitchen.

“Good morning, Pinkie.” Twilight glanced at Kindness around her neck but didn’t comment. When offered a spoonful of batter, however enticing it sounded, she declined but accepted a properly cooked cupcake in its place. Huh. This is actually really good. In another life, perhaps Pinkie would have been a full-time baker.

After Twilight swallowed the last of her breakfast and, in her weakness, began an early second breakfast, she said, “Hey, Pinkie, don’t start…” No, that’s not the right way to approach this. Never mind that Pinkie Pie technically worked for her way down the governmental hierarchy, friends didn’t demand things of each other. “I would appreciate your help today searching for a bearer for Laughter and Loyalty. You have a much better memory for ponies than I do.”

“Oh my gosh! Really? That sounds super fun!” In a blink, Pinkie Pie went from excited to contemplative, tapping a hoof against her jaw. “But I’m, like, waaaay behind on my parties with all these new ponies flooding into Ponyville lately. I don’t know if I can give you the whole day. Ooh! Unless you can magic up some way for me to be in more than one place at once, because that would solve so many of my problems. Can you do that?”

It was technically possible. And Pinkie Pie might actually have the brainpower necessary to divide her attention the way Twilight did when – No, one Pinkie Pie is enough for this world. Twilight evaded answering the question with an observation. “If you’re already behind on parties, it’s only going to get worse as the influx increases. And they are coming here specifically to party on the solstice, you know.”

“I guess…” was Pinkie Pie’s unenthused response.

Twilight considered making a joke about getting to spend all day with her instead as a consolation prize, but it stung a little too hard.

“We’ll just have to find bearers as fast as we can, then!”

Shrugging, Twilight said, “Whatever you want to do with your day once we finish.” She doubted she would be good company after such a long, tedious day of work. She would assemble all six bearers tomorrow after she’d had a night to, well, not relax, precisely, but she didn’t hate or even dislike the nights she spent with Luna and her friends. She just normally had more important things to be doing than playing games.

Pinkie Pie hummed in thought as the alien thought process in her mind turned. “Let’s see… I can take Laughter, and we can give Loyalty to Rainbow Dash. I’m sure it’ll like her. Her story is all about loyalty to ponies she takes under her wing.”

For a moment, Twilight just stared. Then she blinked. “You can take Laughter?”

“That’s what I said. Don’t tell me you have cupcake in your ears.” Pinkie Pie reached over the counter and, in an impressive display of sleight of hoof, withdrew one from behind Twilight’s ear. “There. All better now.”

Disregarding that, Twilight let out a relieved sigh. She’d really dodged a spell there. It’s a good thing Pinkie Pie is too weird for the call to affect her properly. “So I have no idea who Rainbow Dash is” – although the name did evoke images of her encounter at the local library – “but I want one Element per pony to achieve their maximum strength. Which means no Laughter for you.”

“Hmm…” Pinkie Pie stared at Twilight with narrowed eyes. She ran a hoof under her jaw with exaggerated motions and varied her humming, all while she continued to finish whatever baking project she was engaged in.

A little perturbed under the scrutiny, Twilight said nothing.

Pinkie Pie then returned to her usual overly energetic self. “Okie dokie! Then I met this Cheese Sandwich pony once, and let me tell you, he was a character. We could give it to him instead.”

Twilight quirked an eyebrow. Pinkie Pie was in no position to throw stones. Regardless, she said, “I’d like to give the Elements to ponies living in Ponyville if possible, then visitors, then we can expand the search. We can start with a list of preferred locals, but if they don’t work out, we’ll just brute force awaken the Elements. I’d like to get this done today. Just give me a heads up if any of our current bearers are at odds with anypony we intend to test.” On the off chance Pinkie Pie didn’t already know the general social dynamics of the entire village, Kindness would fill in the gaps for her.

“Yes, Ma’am!” Pinkie Pie saluted with a wooden spoon covered in oozing batter.

As much as Twilight wanted to start right away and just get this labor done and over with, she refrained from pushing and instead asked, “How much longer until you’re free?”

“Don’t shift that one yet, Big Mac!”

The stallion in question froze at Apple Bloom’s cry and glanced over toward a pile of rubble that used to be the remains of the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ clubhouse. “Eeyup,” he said, nodding. Then, finding a safer beam to remove first, he returned to his work.

Apple Bloom let out a sigh of relief. “Be more careful, Big Mac. I know the weight wouldn’t of hurt ya, but the wreckage is awful sharp.”

“Hey now, don’t be scolding your brother like that, ya hear?”

Apple Bloom grit her teeth but didn’t otherwise respond to her sister’s rebuke. Sure, her family could scold her all they wanted whenever she did something even the tiniest bit wrong, and all would be right in the world, but the moment she opened her mouth, it became unacceptable. Grown-ups weren’t fair.

Or maybe it would be more accurate to say life wasn’t fair. As Apple Bloom hauled off some more of the wreckage herself, she spotted Scootaloo lazing around on a small cloud in the sky. From the look of it, she’d fallen asleep on the job when she was supposed to be removing debris from the branches of their clubhouse’s tree.

Setting down her load, Apple Bloom bucked a nearby tree and received an apple for her effort, the perfect ammunition for waking a lazy sack of bones. But she noticed, just as she was about to throw it, that Scootaloo’s cloud had moved despite an utter lack of wind. She stopped to watch it for a few seconds, and its drift gained a little speed.

That can’t be natural. Curious, Apple Bloom’s eyes followed the cloud’s direction of travel out into the orchard. She caught a glint of pale green light amongst the trees. Sweetie Belle. Whatever was up must be important if she was sneaking around like this instead of just coming out into the open. Maybe Index caught her and she ran away?

Whatever was wrong, the Cutie Mark Crusaders stuck together. Apple Bloom snuck off when she had the chance, dodging the eyes of every Apple helping to haul off the ruined clubhouse to slip behind a tree. She carefully moved through the orchard unseen toward Sweetie Belle. When she got closer, she noticed a well-fitted necklace wrapped around her friend’s neck with a familiar purple gem inset. She had so many questions now.

As Apple Bloom approached, she opened her mouth to unleash her first question, but Sweetie Belle spoke first.

“It’s called the Element of Generosity. Yes, it came from the sphere. Yes, Index knows it bonded with me. We spoke already. She gave me a potion recipe and a few already brewed doses to help me tolerate its side effects. I would appreciate your help learning to prepare it myself. As for the secrecy, it has to do with the side effects of Generosity. My brain is still in the process of adapting to it. And yes, I am reading your mind.”

Apple Bloom blinked. Her mouth hung open.

“A lot happened yesterday,” Sweetie Belle added.

“I’ll say.”

By mutual agreement, once they had Scootaloo safely down from her cloud, they carried her off draped across both their backs without waking her. They discussed what prank they should play on her to repay her hard work on their clubhouse, but she unfortunately woke up in the middle of their planning to pretend she’d slipped into an alternate dimension where everypony was evil. She had tried to feign sleep, but Sweetie Belle could read minds now, apparently, and there wasn’t much a pony could do to hide from that.

Soon enough, the trio found a quiet, out of the way corner of Sweet Apple Acres where they wouldn’t be disturbed.

“I have news!” Sweetie Belle, far too excited to stand still, hopped in place. With her pitch an octave or two higher than it should be, she revealed, “Index made me her protégé!”

“Whoa!” Apple Bloom sure hadn’t seen that coming. Honestly, she’d expected Sweetie Belle to go on about how she’d met the archmage.

“Get out!” Scootaloo hoof bumped with Sweetie Belle. “That’s awesome!”

Breaking the actual news hadn’t done much to calm Sweetie Belle down, but she at least managed to not act like Winona with a new chew toy anymore. “I’m going to learn so much! And I’m going to get to meet Spike, Flurry, and Ocellus in person!”

Scootaloo asked the obvious question. “Who’s Ocellus?”

“Oh! I forgot to – oh, I just have so much to tell you two!” Sweetie Belle stopped to take a moment to just breathe and calm down a smidge. “I had a favor to ask Spike and Flurry for an assignment Index gave me. They sent me the information I asked for along with another letter introducing me to Ocellus. They met her recently. She’s a foreign princess living in Equestria.”

With that being the second princess they knew now, Apple Bloom reacted more sedately than the situation probably warranted. “Where from?”

Sweetie Belle frowned slightly. “I don’t know. They forgot to mention, and Rarity didn’t know either.”

“Rarity didn’t know?” Scootaloo said. “Must be from somewhere nopony has ever heard of.”

“Scoots!” Apple Bloom swatted Scootaloo’s arm with a hoof. “That ain’t polite.”

As she rubbed her arm, Scootaloo muttered, “Yeah, yeah. Still true.”

Apple Bloom gave Scootaloo a pointed look before turning her attention back to Sweetie Belle. “So any chance Scoots and I can meet Spike and the princesses too?”

“Of course! Rarity said that I–” A sudden sadness swept over Sweetie Belle. Where she once had been all smiles and full of energy, eager to share, now she was reticent and pensive. “Oh. I’ve not yet told you. Girls, for my magical studies, I…” Her gaze fell to her hooves. “Rarity and I are moving to Canterlot after the Summer Sun Celebration.”

Well, wasn’t that just a sour apple in a barrel?

“Wait. You’re moving to Canterlot as well?”

Scootaloo, as confused as Apple Bloom, uttered a simple, “Huh?”

“You said…” Sweetie Belle’s eyes widened. “Oh dear. I’m sorry. Sometimes I have trouble distinguishing between thoughts and spoken words.”

Although she was still shocked to learn that both of her friends were moving away – together, she might add – Apple Bloom filled in the confused party. “Sweetie Belle gained the power to read minds sometime between now and last afternoon.”

Scootaloo turned to Sweetie Belle, who nodded.

“But it’s true, ain’t it, what she said?”

After a moment, Scootaloo said, “Yeah, I… Maybe. I don’t know.” She ran one hoof along its opposite arm. “I think so. There’s this new school for gifted pegasi Flurry’s mom is forcing Rainbow Dash to teach at. I’m invited to attend, and if I want to keep learning from her…”

“You should go,” Apple Bloom insisted. Scootaloo needed the lessons Rainbow Dash provided her in ways Sweetie Belle didn’t need Index’s. There really was no decision to be made.

“I know. I know.” Scootaloo bit her lip. “It’s just… Look at me!” She spread her dwarf wings wide. “I’m not exactly a gifted pegasus, now am I? I can’t even fly.”

Sweetie Belle stepped forward. She placed a hoof on Scootaloo’s shoulder and waited until their eyes met. “Scootaloo,” she said earnestly, “you’re awesome.”

The filly in question managed a weak smirk.

“You’re not just a bribe to get Rainbow Dash to accept the position,” Sweetie Belle continued. “You can do things most pegasi never even think to try. Not because they don’t ‘need the crutch’ but because they’re dreadfully boring and uninspired.”

Whatever response Scootaloo had cooking in her head, it clearly didn’t satisfy Sweetie Belle.

“Hmph. You know that’s not true. Do you believe Index took me on as her protégé just because she needs me to defeat Nightmare Moon?”

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo fell dead silent. The latter hesitantly replied, “No?” She drew the word out and laced it with the same level of confusion and caution that Apple Bloom felt. With all of the changes going on lately, it didn’t seem beyond the realm of possibility for Nightmare Moon herself to show up.

“Oops. I was supposed to get you to Pinkie Promise not to tell anypony before I told you about that.”

As there was no way they would be left out of the loop on something so monumental, both Apple Bloom and Scootaloo so swore not to tell anypony anything. With that out of the way, Sweetie Belle told them about the Elements of Harmony and Generosity. Then she explained that Nightmare Moon was actually Princess Celestia’s sister, due to return to Equestria after a thousand years of banishment. By the time she finished fully recounting her conversations with both Index and Rarity about the subject while fielding questions, at least an hour had passed.

“And that’s everything I know,” Sweetie Belle finished. “Index said I have the day free, but after that, I’ll need to spend much of my time with the other bearers.”

While Apple Bloom was feeling more than a mite uncomfortable that her friends were moving on to bigger and better things without her, she kept her thoughts from straying. “I reckon we should make today count, then.” If it were to be the last proper day they had together for only Celestia knew how long, they had to make the most of it. “So what are we going to do?”

“We should–” Scootaloo started, but then her excitement dipped as she fumbled for an answer. “You know, I’ve been so busy with what’s happening with Rainbow Dash that I kinda forgot to even give it a thought.”

“And Rarity and Index have kept me busy.”

With regret, Apple Bloom added, “And I’ve been seeing to the clubhouse…” Not that that was really important anymore with the ponies she shared it with moving away.

“What a downer.” Scootaloo’s low spirits were easy for anypony to hear in her voice.

“We could exchange letters with our friends in Canterlot,” Sweetie Belle suggested. After a moment, she added a very poignant, “Together.”

Soon it would be their friend in Ponyville. Apple Bloom pushed the thought from her mind, but by the sad look Sweetie Belle gave her, she knew it hadn’t passed unnoticed. “I like the idea,” she said, and she did.

“Sounds good,” Scootaloo agreed.

Sweetie Belle nodded. “Shall we?”

“All right then, on three,” Scootaloo said. “One.”

“Two,” Sweetie Belle counted.

“Three.”

“Cutie Mark Crusaders, letter writers! Yay!”

“Pinkie…how much of Ponyville have we covered?”

From her position as their untested pony spotter on the roof just behind where Twilight sat, Pinkie Pie replied, “Five hundred and sixty-three ponies down. Only one thousand and forty-one left.”

Twilight heaved an exhausted sigh. This was just as agonizingly tedious as she’d expected. Invisible and undetected to all but each other, she bumped the similarly concealed Laughter and Loyalty up against the next pony Pinkie Pie pointed out. They’d not found Rainbow Dash in Ponyville, and none of the other ponies on either of their lists of possibilities and preferences had panned out, unfortunately. And neither did the latest stallion she’d tested.

“Plus one, minus one,” Pinkie Pie unhelpfully said.

“Yes, thank you. I got that.”

“And seven with your mane style,” Pinkie Pie added with a giggle.

“Yes, thank you, Pinkie. I got that.”

Rainbow Dash stood at the Canterlot train station, her one small bag having already been sent ahead to the castle by the train attendants. It would have been faster to fly to Canterlot, but how often did a mare get a chance to ride in the royal car and mooch off the princess trying – and succeeding – to ruin her life?

The capital was a lot more impressive flying through it than looking up on it from Ponyville or down from Cloudsdale whenever the city drew near. With the altitude and the cooler temperatures that came with it, it even felt a little like home. Not that she could ignore the glaring differences. Everything was make of glass, stone, and metal instead of mostly cloud, for one. Then there was how stationary and landbound it all was. And the ponies were all stuck-up unicorns who wouldn’t give a mare the time of day unless she had more bits than she knew what to do with or a fancy title.

On her way through the city, a place where nopony knew her, Rainbow Dash had been sorely tempted to stop by a bookstore and see which of her favorite authors had a new book out. The Golden Oak Library, small town library that it was, always lagged behind on new releases. The only exceptions were the most popular series like Daring Do and the junk Rhyme the librarian liked to read.

But that was part of why she was here to begin with. To avoid tempting fate, Rainbow Dash flew straight for the castle. If she made the detour, she’d probably bump into a friend or an old rival. Maybe Gilda. She hadn’t heard from her griffon friend in forever, not since that ridiculous ‘war’ the archmage had put a quick end to. She didn’t need that drama on top of whatever Princess Cadance had in store for her.

At the castle gate, as instructed, Rainbow Dash gave her name to one of the guards. He led her inside and passed her off to another, who then led her deeper into the castle. Attempts at small talk with her guide were met with short, gruff answers, and they soon fell into silence as they walked. The palace was more or less everything Rarity had ever droned on about, or at least the parts of what she’d said that Rainbow Dash could remember were. Lots of art and ritzy stuff decorated the corridors, but nothing really all that interesting. She’d have to get used to it, though. She was going to be around it all the time soon enough.

After a long walk through the busy castle corridors, they finally arrived at a quieter area with less hoof traffic. Two guards stood sentry outside a door, and it was to them that Rainbow Dash was being led. A couple terse nods passed between the three guards, after which they opened the door for her to pass through. Once inside, they closed it behind her.

The room itself was a relatively modestly decorated meeting room with a fancy table surrounded by a half-dozen chairs in the middle. Rainbow Dash had seen more elaborate and overt displays of wealth in her life, but then a princess didn’t need to show off for everypony to know she was both loaded and powerful.

But perhaps this was all a mistake. On the opposite end of the room sat a pink pegasus filly and a purple baby dragon, both looking a little younger than Scootaloo. They sat atop cushions on their chairs to be able to actually peer over the top of the table without looking completely ridiculous.

“I think I’m in the wrong room,” Rainbow Dash said as she turned to leave.

“I don’t think so,” the pink filly said. “You are Rainbow Dash, correct?”

Said mare turned back from the door to eye the filly questioningly. “Yes?”

“Then I’m glad you could make it. We have much to speak of.”

Sure they did. “I’m here to see Princess Cadance, kid.”

“Yes,” the filly said, “and as I said, we have much to speak of.”

Rainbow Dash hesitated before turning back to face what was apparently Princess Cadance. “Aren’t you supposed be older?” There were a lot of things wrong with this situation, but that detail stuck out the most.

The supposed Princess Cadance cleared her throat. “Yes, well, Shiny and I” – she gestured to the dragon next to her – “played a little prank on Twi. She got us back by swapping our appearances with the next generation. Without his horn, Shiny can’t turn us back, so we have to wait for the spell to wear off. But it was totally worth it. Right, honey?”

The dragon, apparently Prince Shining, laughed. Slowly at first and then explosively. “Totally worth it, Cadance.”

Princess Cadance leaned over and gave Prince Shining a peck on the cheek. He reacted strongly, hastily retreating from his wife with a huge blush. “Don’t do that!” he cried, wiping his cheek dry.

“Just showing my love, dear. What’s wrong with that?”

Prince Shining seemed at a loss for words before pointing and saying, “You look just like our filly. It’s weird!”

Princess Cadance just giggled elegantly like, well, a princess.

“So is this good enough counter blackmail material to get me off the hook?” Rainbow Dash asked.

After a thoughtful hum, Princess Cadance replied, “Nope, ’fraid not. This would only be endearing if it got out.”

“Horseapples,” Rainbow Dash muttered.

“Language, young filly.”

Rainbow Dash stared stupefied at the pair for a moment before rubbing her forehead with her wings. This was going to be one of those days. She’d already known that, but this really drove it home. “Can we just get on with this?”

“Yes, of course,” Princess Cadance said. “So…what are your credentials?”

What are my – “I think you’ve made it perfectly clear you already know.” This was an involuntary interview. Rainbow Dash refused to sit through the whole regular process.

“Oh! Yes. Of course. Just checking. We wouldn’t want a changeling taking your job after all.”

Prince Shining hissed something into Princess Cadance’s ear.

“Whoops. Forget what I just said.”

“Oh?” It seemed fortune might yet be on Rainbow Dash’s side. “Well, I might be persuaded to keep my silence.” She buffed a hoof against her chest, then held it out nonchalantly to gaze upon its polished shine. “For a price.”

For a moment, Princess Cadance’s eyes showed pure panic and worry, but then they regained their confident, playful gaze. “I see. Well, if you really feel that way, we can call Twi or Princess Celestia here to erase your memory and start this interview over.”

They can do that! Alarmed, Rainbow Dash said, “No, no need. It’s okay. I’ll keep whatever it was secret.”

Just then, the door opened to admit a normal sized and properly colored Princess Cadance with a weary expression plastered on her face. By what the miniature version had said, this would be her daughter, Princess Flurry Heart, aged up and having to deal with, to say nothing of the hormones, all the boring stuff adults had to suffer through.

“Oh no,” Princess Cadance said in muted horror.

“So,” Princess Flurry Heart began, “what state secret have you two given away this time?”

Princess Cadance winced. “Changelings…”

“I see.” Princess Flurry Heart glanced at Rainbow Dash with a calculating eye. “Well, I suppose if your new friend intends to keep visiting, she would have found out through Scootaloo eventually anyway.” Turning back to Rainbow Dash, she said, “The existence of changelings is a classified matter until they’re ready to reveal themselves publicly. I expect you to not to breathe a word on the matter to anypony.”

It clicked, then, that those two foals had pulled a successful switcheroo. Well, two could play at that game. “I understand, Princess. I’m good at keeping secrets. Like how these two just kissed a few minutes ago.”

“You kissed!” the real Princess Cadance squealed.

Not the reaction I expected.

Across the room on the opposite side of the table, the two foals cringed and protested that, “It wasn’t like that!” to their mother slash aunt.

But effective.

“You two are going to have to tell me all about it tonight!

“Mom!” Princess Flurry Heart whined. “It’s not like that!”

“Really, it’s not!” Spike added.

Princess Cadance sighed, “Ah, young love.” A silly grin crept onto her face. “So innocent. I remember my first date with Shiny. He had such a coltish cuteness about him, and he was so nervous.” She emitted a giggle more befitting a mare half her age. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell Twi the good news! She’ll be so happy for you two.”

The moment was interrupted when Spike coughed up a letter of all things with a burst of emerald fire. Despite the oddness of it, Rainbow Dash figured from what Scootaloo had told her that it came from the Crusaders.

“Oh, look, Flurry, we got a letter.” Spike swept it up in his claws and then leapt from his chair. “Gotta go. See ya, Aunt Cadance!”

“Later, Mom!”

And like that, they were out the door.

“Well,” Princess Cadance said with just the slightest hint of a huff. She crossed the room to take the seat abdicated to her. “That was my daughter, Flurry Heart, and my nephew, Spike. I hope whatever they were up to didn’t trouble you.”

“Nah. They pulled a good prank. I got them back in the end.”

Princess Cadance arched an eyebrow. “Oh dear, so it’s treason, then. Well, I had high hopes for you.”

“Yeah, not falling for that.”

A click of the tongue met the answer. “Very well. I doubt introductions are necessary, but I’m Princess Cadance. Just Cadance, please. I only use my ridiculous full name when I absolutely must. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rainbow Dash.”

“Wish I could say the same, Princess.” Barring yesterday’s letter, everything Rainbow Dash had ever heard about her was good.

Princess Cadance offered a slightly apologetic smile. “I regret the need for such a heavy-hoofed approach, but do cheer up. In a decade or two, even the Wonderbolts will find it an honor to fly with you. And this isn’t forever if you don’t want it to be.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Rainbow Dash grumbled. “This is where you stick me in a dress, tie up my mane, and expect me to have an apple on my desk every day.”

“That wouldn’t be very practical. Well, except maybe the mane part, but I don’t really care about that.”

Confused, Rainbow Dash’s first response was a simple, “Huh?”

“You did read my letter, right?”

“Some of it,” Rainbow Dash admitted. She’d never gone back to read through the more threatening sections she’d skipped over.

Princess Cadance shook her head. “The entire point of this is to rethink how we teach our pegasi. Regular classwork and book learning works well for unicorns and, to a reasonable extent, earth ponies, but pegasi need more hooves-on experience.” She hesitated a moment, seemed to mull over what she was about to say, and then added, “Well, my dear little sister would quibble about the benefits of unicorn experimentation, but her foalhood years were…unorthodox.

“Regardless, I digress. My intention is to shift away from unicorn paradigms to one better suited for our tribe. If that means regular flying, throwing lightning around, and sculpting clouds into immature images as foals are wont to do, then so be it.”

That’s…actually kind of awesome. Cautious of revealing too much too soon, Rainbow Dash said, “I always hated school because it kept me from doing all that. Real learning, you know?”

“That’s not entirely fair,” Princess Cadance replied. “There’s a place for history, math, and such in the classroom as well. But I understand your meaning. Before my aunt took her under her wing, Twilight actually withdrew from the school system entirely to pursue her studies on her own terms. Few ponies can do what she did or, I hear, you did when you could, but there are lessons to be learned from you two and applied elsewhere nonetheless.

“And that experience combined with your gifts is precisely why I went to such lengths to summon you here. I’m not an educator. I’m not a prodigy. I have no idea what I’m doing. But you do. You won’t be working alone, of course. I’ve called upon some of the best teachers in Equestria to help make this project a success. What I’m ultimately asking of you is to lead the development of the experimental curriculum and teach the advanced classes. That can be whatever you think is important, within reason, and you can do it however you want so long as its safe and you document what you’re doing for future reference. Class sizes will be small at first, so you shouldn’t be overwhelmed.”

Rainbow Dash had to force herself to play it cool. The idea of getting paid to show off all day and teach foals how to be awesome just like her actually had some serious appeal to it. They wouldn’t be the roaring crowds the Wonderbolts drew or even the cheers and gratitude Ponyville sent her way for her heroics, but neither was it the bland deskwork she’d expected. Thus she leaned forward into the table, casually taping a hoof against it’s edge in consideration. “I suppose I might not die of boredom if you’re going to let me just fly around all day.”

Princess Cadance hid a bit of light laughter behind a hoof. “It’s not quite that simple. You’re expected to get results from your lessons. If you don’t, you will have to try a new approach. Not everypony learns in precisely the same way. And do remember that this is a new experiment. We have a lot of upfront work to take care of, and even once that’s out of the way, teachers have a surprising amount of behind the scenes work. Moreover, I can’t tell you what to do because nopony really knows what to do. All I can tell you is what not to do when I see it not working.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rainbow Dash said with a dismissive wave of her hoof. “But you know all about how well Scootaloo has been doing. My methods work just fine.”

“I can only hope so. At any rate, we may ask you to help out with some of the more elementary magic classes–”

“Yeah, sure. Basics are important. Gotta drill that stuff into their heads right when they’re young. No probs there.”

“–but,” Princess Cadance continued, “you can rest assured that we won’t ask you to teach anything else. I’ve seen your transcript.”

Not sure how to respond to the favor and slight wrapped up in one package, Rainbow Dash merely said, “Uh, thanks. I guess.”

“Good. Now I think that takes care of official business for the moment, so we can spend some time just getting to know one another better. Would you care to join the foals and I for dinner? I have this sneaking suspicion that you’ll be seeing a lot more of them in the future. Maybe we could go for a flight afterward to speak some more in private?”

With a shrug, Rainbow Dash said, “Yeah, sure. Sounds fun.”

Twilight and Pinkie Pie stood in the middle of somepony’s home, one which they’d just teleported into more out of convenience than actual need. A family of five were eating an early dinner – or a late lunch – and remained blissfully unaware of the two intruders standing only a room away.

Sighing as neither element reacted to either of the adults in the room, Twilight levitated her map of Ponyville between the two of them once more. “Where to next?”

Pinkie Pie put her hoof on a building two to the west and across the street.

The day was wearing on Twilight both mentally and magically, and she didn’t even want to think of how difficult this would have been without somepony who not only knew everypony in town but also knew where they lived and could remember everypony they’d already tested. At that point, it would have been easier to just open up a pavilion in the center of town and pay everypony a bit to touch the mystery spheres and discover if ‘they’re the chosen one’. As such, she felt it appropriate to say, “You are a treasure.”

“Aw, shucks.” Pinkie Pie kicked a hoof on nothing and knew better than anypony else ever could thanks to Kindness that Twilight really did mean that.

They teleported away, off to commit yet another minor crime that Twilight had no intention of ever telling Celestia about.

Twilight finished testing what she sincerely hoped, by the sheer number of ponies already present, was the entire Apple family minus the foals. Neither Loyalty nor Laughter had reacted to anyone there. They seemed to be rather picky elements. Thus she returned to where Pinkie Pie had sprawled out on her back on the ground. She held the map above her, turning it randomly back and forth. The simple illumination spell Twilight had placed upon it after sunset made it streak about, although only the two of them could see it.

“So?” Twilight asked. “Who’s left?”

With finality, Pinkie Pie pronounced, “Nopony.”

While the job wasn’t over – they’d not found bearers for Loyalty and Laughter – Twilight nearly collapsed with relief that they’d at least exhausted Ponyville’s residents. She’d been beginning to think, though not with any seriousness, that Celestia just wasn’t worth it.

“Except Ponyvillians not currently in Ponyville,” Pinkie Pie added. “That still makes them Ponyvillians, right? Hey, now that I think about it, that word’s pretty weird. Ponyvillians. Pony villians. Pony villains. Just swap the a and the i. Crazy, huh?”

Twilight declined to engage in that tangential conversation. “Just to confirm, we’ve tested every pony from Ponyville currently in town?”

“Yep!”

“And we haven’t found either bearer.” After a moment, Twilight politely added, “Other than you for Laughter.”

“Yep!”

“Great.” Twilight heaved a tired sigh. “Well, I guess it’s time to start testing other ponies. That should be easy enough. At this time of night they should all be in the new inns or taverns, especially with a storm scheduled.”

“Ooh, that’s perfect!”

Twilight, prepared to handle a heavy dose of Pinkie Logic, asked, “What is?”

“What better place to find adventurers to take part in our epic quest? Maybe you’ll even meet a wizened old stallion with a huge, long, gray beard that will give us some sort of side quest that actually turns out to be important to our main one because we get some magical quest item that–”

Filtering Pinkie Pie out with a bit of magic, Twilight pulled the updated dossier she’d gotten from Amethyst Star earlier today from her bag of holding and opened it up to the pages listing temporary residencies for ponies from out-of-town. It seemed that, with a few notable exceptions, everypony not from Ponyville was indeed crammed into the few inns the village had managed to finish and furnish early.

“I’ll take you home,” Twilight said, barely looking up from the folder as she dispelled her Pinkie Filter. Hmm… I wonder how mad Celestia would be if I cast the trademark spell on ‘Pinkie Filter’. Probably very.

Putting that idea to the back of her mind with a shake of her head, Twilight continued, “I can finish up on my own. Get a good night’s sleep. We’re going to do some group bonding tomorrow, even if it’s just the four of us sitting around at a cafe in Manehattan while I bump Elements against ponies walking past.” It would be the first time she spoke to the seapony in over a week, too. That wasn’t going to be fun. “Be prepared.”

“I’m always prepared for group bonding! Should I make a picnic tonight to bring with us?”

“Yeah, sure,” Twilight idly replied. “Whatever is fine.”

Flash trudged through Ponyville, helmet carried under his wing, toward the Prancing Pony. Rumor had it the tavern had managed to conjure up a few barrels of Apple cider out of season, the brew so good even Princess Celestia went out of her way to acquire it. He really needed a drink after today, never mind the expense. It hearkened back to a simpler time when he’d just been admitted to the guard and the captain didn’t send him on impossible missions.

Really, in the half-day he’d been in town, Flash had already discovered that Archmage Twilight had managed to put herself in the hospital for nearly five days. Putting her down for an entire week was the kind of babbling nonsense one expected from a drunken madpony, not reality. Worse, nopony knew where she was and had seen neither hide nor hair of her either as herself or as Index Code since yesterday.

And worst of all, everypony in this town was ready to be shipped off to an asylum! He and the first wave of Royal Guards to arrive with him today had helped send a stray cockatrice back into the Everfree Forest. Sure, there had been some mild panic in the moment in the vicinity of the attack, but once the incident had ended, those not counted amongst the dozens turned to stone just returned to their business without a word. Hardly anypony had even batted an eyelash! If something like that had happened in Canterlot, there would be cordons, investigations, reporters, demands for an explanation. But here? Nothing!

After he stepped through the tavern doors, Flash quickly located the purple earth pony barmare behind the main counter. He pushed his way through the crowd and took what must have been the only available stool in the entire building. It seemed he wasn’t the only pony in town who needed a drink after today.

“What’s your poison?” the barmare asked.

Flash shucked off his armor and then slumped against the counter with both arms atop it. “Just some Apple cider.”

“You sure about that? That stuff is practically worth its weight in magic right now.”

“Yeah. How much?”

“Right now, the going rate is a thousand bits a pint–”

Flash’s jaw fought to drop through his arms to hit the counter.

“–but I seem to be in a generous mood with all this business, and you look like a stallion way down in the dumps. I suppose I could let a pint go for half that if you tell me your story.”

“Really?” It was still an absurdly expensive but much less painful hit to the bit bag. “Thanks a lot! That’s the first good thing that’s happened all day.”

“Oh dear, that doesn’t sound good at all. Give me a moment, and then we’ll talk your troubles away.”

The mare returned with a frothing cup of what might as well have been that ambrosia drink everypony said Princess Celestia consumed with how appealing it appeared. She set it down in front of him, far more careful not to spill a drop than he imagined she usually would be given the stains on the counter. When Flash reached for his saddlebags to pay, she waved him off and said she’d put it on his tab.

“So what’s bothering you?” the barmare asked as she turned to washing a pile of dirty mugs nearby.

After taking a greedy drink, Flash took his hoof off his mug to resist the temptation to polish it off in two or three gos. The brew was as amazing as he remembered from the last time he’d had it, and he had every intention of nursing it the entire night. Only then did he finally reply, “It’s a lot of things, I guess. This town isn’t helping.”

“Ah,” the mare said, obviously sympathetic. “This is your first visit to Ponyville, eh?”

Flash just nodded weakly.

“Well, I suppose I can only say you get used to it. You didn’t have a run in with Pinkie, did you?”

“Who?”

“That’s a no. The Crusaders, perhaps?”

Flash’s blank stare answered for him. Honestly, it was obvious he was with the Royal Guard, and how did she not know about the cockatrice attack this afternoon?

“Hmm, well, never mind, then. What besides the village is on your mind?”

After another sip of cider to hide his indecision, Flash decided, What the hay, and spilled hits guts. “There’s this mare…”

“Ooh, do tell.”

“It’s not like that.” Flash blushed as his thoughts, so prompted, took a turn toward fantasy. “Well, I mean, it is, but she barely acknowledges I exist, and that’s not really the issue at hoof. I – well, it’s classified. I’m part of the Royal Guard, and I can’t reveal everything.”

“Uh-huh. I’ve heard that before.”

Despite the teasing tone, Flash couldn’t help feel a bit flustered. He leaned over to pick up his helmet and mimicked slamming it onto the counter.

“Pff. Anypony can buy one of those from a costume shop.”

Flash leaned over to dig through his saddlebags, intent on pulling out his identification.

“Hey, I’m just messing with you. I never said I don’t believe you. It’s not like we’ve never seen Royal Guards here in Ponyville before, so you see, I have heard that before.”

“Very funny,” Flash said flatly with a roll of his eyes. “Anyway, there’s this mare that I’m supposed to be looking after while I’m in town, but I can’t find her anywhere, and she’s…more of a trouble hunter than a trouble magnet.”

The barmare laughed easily as she wiped down a mug with a dishcloth, an expertly executed, classic bartender pose in Flash’s opinion. “Well then she could be anywhere in Ponyville.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Flash indulged in another sip of his cider. “I have no idea what to do.”

Rather than offer some sympathy, the barmare gave some actual advice. “You could try asking Rarity or Pinkie Pie. They live at the Carousel Boutique and Sugarcube Corner respectively. Rarity usually has a good feel on the village’s pulse, and Pinkie knows everypony.”

Flash recognized Sugarcube Corner as the place where the archmage was supposed to be staying. Maybe he could just show up there. He was supposed to coordinate the Royal Guard’s presence here with Index Code, after all, not just the mayor. It wouldn’t help him keep track of her when she went out and about, but at least he’d have made contact. “I think I’ll take your advice. Thank you.”

“No problem at all. I sort of feel like I owe you anyway. This huge boom in business is all from the festival and from Twilight paying me such a public visit. Gotta do my part to help Equestria in return, you know. Return the favor and all.”

It took a few moments for Flash’s mind to process what he’d just heard. “Whoa, what? You’re friends with the archmage?”

An evil smile grew on the mare as she said, “I would say more acquaintances, really. Maybe friends eventually if she continues to loosen up when we hang out. Turns out that’s enough to double your bar’s popularity. But I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to have a crush on her.”

The closest Flash came to a dignified response was to bury his head in his hooves and wings. Then he stumbled over something the barmare had said. “Wait, what do you mean ‘loosen up’? Since when does she do that?”

Suddenly with a more serious tone, the mare said, “You should hurry up and make your move, or you’ll never have a chance.”

Flash swallowed a gasp. “What do you mean?”

“Ah, well, I’m not sure how much I should say.” The barmare set aside the mug she’d been cleaning. “She showed up yesterday and subtly asked about a mutual friend of ours. So another friend of mine she also spoke with and I got to talking, and we’re pretty sure she has a crush. Not sure if it’s requited, and to be honest, I’m not sure if it’d be a good idea either even if it is. Both mares in question have some serious baggage.” She shrugged. “But if it’s meant to be, love finds a way. Same with you, I imagine.”

Flash chugged down more of his cider than he really wanted to, but he’d definitely needed it. It would certainly soothe his ego and yet sting all the same if it turned out he’d gotten nowhere with the archmage because he had the wrong gender. But really, what did that even matter to a mare who could turn a pony into whatever she wanted on a whim? “Who is this mutual friend of yours?”

“I really shouldn’t say.”

“Please tell me,” Flash begged. “Please.”

“I’m sorry,” the barmare said. “It really isn’t my place to say. For a number of reasons.”

Flash sighed in resignation. “Well, thanks for the warning, at least.”

“You’re welcome. I can really see why having a crush on her would be difficult. I take it you actually get to see her once in a while, right?”

Crossing another sigh with a laugh, Flash said, “Fleetingly. I actually know her older brother much, much better.”

“Oh? Is that an in or a burden?”

“Eh.” Flash shrugged. “He’s the scary older brother, but he doesn’t actually interfere. Or help, but that’s fine.”

A weird, fleeting feeling interrupted the conversation. Were he not a trained guard, he probably would have dismissed it if he’d ever even noticed it. It felt as if he’d been bumped with something both smooth and hard. It hadn’t been an elbow despite the crowd or anything of the sort. He turned in his seat to look around for the source of the feeling and, quite unexpectedly, his eyes landed on the archmage herself disguised as Index Code. She was staring right at him with a look of relief on her face.

That was new.

And it didn’t last.

Archmage Twilight’s eyes widened a second later as they flared with recognition that soon sailed on straight into some awful mixture of horror and anger.

“Oh, come on!” The tavern fell silent, everypony staring at Archmage Twilight as she stomped her hoof. She turned her head slightly to nopony in particular and screamed, “You think this is real funny, don’t you?”

A very nervous stallion, the closest pony to the archmage’s line of sight, nervously shifted away from her. “N-no? Look, I don’t want any–”

Archmage Twilight ignored the stallion and marched across the room. The crowd parted for her. Even disguised, it seemed, she remained a force of nature who unconsciously commanded respect. When she neared, she pointed straight at Flash. “You. You’re coming with me.” It clearly wasn’t a request. It was just a fact.

Gulping, Flash nodded. He glanced back at the barmare.

“I’ll keep your cider cold for you. Nice to meet you…”

“Flash. Flash Sentry.”

“Berry Punch,” the barmare returned.

With that out of the way, a very impatient and visibly angry archmage marched Flash out of the tavern. He knew better than to try something when she was like this, so as soon as they were outside, he hazarded, “Your brother sent me–”

“Oh, fantastic, you know who I am,” Archmage Twilight interrupted. “When I next see him, he and I are going to have some serious words.” And now that she knew her disguise was useless, she teleported them away to some remote field in the middle of nowhere as soon as they stepped out of sight behind a building.

Once the disorientation faded, Flash straightened his posture and slipped into a formal salute. He had a job to do, after all. “Sergeant Flash Sentry, reporting for duty, Your Excellency. Captain Armor assigned me to lead the Summer Sun Celebration’s guard detachment.”

“Not anymore.”

The words were bitter, and Archmage Twilight flung a golden necklace with a red gem shaped like shield at Flash. It matched the outline of his cutie mark, surprisingly. He managed to catch it with a hoof after it slammed into his chest with enough force to probably bruise a little. While he usually wasn’t one for jewelry – on himself or mares – he had to admit there was something about the necklace that made him want to put it on and never take it off.

As if reading Flash’s thoughts, the archmage said, “Put it on. That’s Loyalty. It’s yours until you die.”

“R-right.” Flash didn’t dare question the word choice and did as bidden. He felt oddly invigorated as soon as the clasp snapped closed.

“You have a new mission as of tomorrow, so listen up. I’ll make this quick. Princess Celestia’s sister, Princess Luna, also known as Nightmare Moon–”

Flash’s eyes widened in surprise and not a little fear, but he stayed silent and otherwise stoic as he’d been trained to do.

“–is due to return to Equestria on the solstice. She’s mad at her sister. The only way to stop her from booting our princess off the Solar Throne is through use of the Elements of Harmony. There are six in total. They run off of friendship. You have Loyalty. It has a few neat abilities beyond a small magical boost and the ability to summon it to you on command. If you focus on a pony you care about, it can lead you to them. If you focus a little harder, it will teleport you to said pony. It also has a passive danger sense for those ponies. Be aware that this operates under their perception of danger only. Questions?”

Flash had so many. He opened his mouth.

“No? Good. You will refer to me as Index when I’m in disguise and treat me as such. Generosity’s bearer doesn’t know who I am yet, so do not spoil the surprise for her. Her name is Sweetie Belle, and she can read minds but only knows Modern Ponish. She’s white, pink, purple, and adorable all over with a few less years on her than Spike.”

It was probably a bad time to mention that Flash only knew Modern Ponish as well. He’d just have to be careful with his thoughts, he supposed.

“Starting tomorrow, the hopefully six of us will meet up and try not to kill each other. As I mentioned earlier, the Elements of Harmony run off of the power of friendship. I will try to enjoy your company, but I want to make one thing perfectly clear up front.”

The archmage teleported right into Flash’s face. He jumped back, startled, finally breaking his stance after everything that had been dropped on him.

“I. Am not. Dating you.” Each pause was punctuated with a poke to the chest from a hoof. “Understood?”

“Crystal.” Flash could set his own desires aside for the moment. Never mind that this was the chance to get his hoof in the door regardless, romance had no place in a situation this grave. He wasn’t going to bet Princess Celestia’s well-being, if he understood the situation properly, on his ability to woo the archmage in barely more than a moon.

The archmage finally relaxed slightly as she stepped back. “That all said, do you have any quick questions?”

“Just one…Twilight?”

Said mare’s ears pinned to the back of her head as her eye twitched, but she made no comment beyond a tiny nod of acceptance.

“So…awkward question, but do you actually know my name?”

At a mutter too loud for Twilight to not have intended for it to be heard, she said, “I have several unflattering guesses.”

Despite knowing to expect that, Flash still sighed from the disappointment. He’d kind of hoped he’d at least gotten her to glance at his file, but it seemed that had been too much to ask. “It’s Flash Sentry,” he said. “I prefer to go by Flash.”

“Fine. I’ll remember it.” Twilight raised a hoof toward the horizon and said, “If you can’t get Loyalty to work for whatever reason, Ponyville is that way. Don’t teleport to me.”

And then Twilight teleported away, leaving Flash, if not stranded, then certainly abandoned. He could fly back if he needed to, but it was probably best to figure out how to get the Element of Loyalty to work before tomorrow.

Just don’t think about it, Twilight. You have a bearer for Loyalty? Don’t be silly. There’s no Element of Loyalty. There are only five Elements of Harmony. What kind of messed up universe do you think you live in where there’s six? Because there’s totally only five. Yep.

Oh, Twilight was going to have very strong words with Shining when they next spoke. She could imagine why that overprotective brother of hers had sent Flash of all possible qualified guards down here, and if that decision to have somepony hover over her in the background cost her Celestia’s freedom… Well, she didn’t know what she would do, but she knew Shining wouldn’t like it.

Argh! You’re thinking about it, Twilight. Stop already!

And to do so, Twilight focused on finishing her task for the night. She only had one pony left to test as far as she knew, and then she could go to bed and waste time with Luna and the others. They had a game to finish, and she still wanted to hear the remainder of Luna’s story.

Now if only the last pony Twilight had to test for Laughter wasn’t an illusionist who hated her.

She paused for a moment, considering that last thought.

Maaaaybe I should just skip Trixie. I mean, I like her on a superficial level, but perhaps it’s best not to go looking for more drama to add to our dysfunctional little team.

Just as Twilight was about to turn and leave, something bounced harmlessly off her passive shields and broke on the ground. Suppressing the urge to reflexively teleport away to safety, she followed the object back to its source. There she found a hatted but cloakless Trixie wobbling down the stairs from the wagon in which she both traveled and lived. In her magic, she held a mostly full bottle of wine, one matching the broken shards of glass on the ground.

Underneath the incredibly drunken slur, Trixie said, “What are you doing here, Sparkle?”

Twilight took a casual glance at her foreleg to ensure her polymorph hadn’t fallen. She was, indeed, still Index.

“Come to rub it in that she was right all along?”

Who is ‘she’? Twilight pushed the thought aside. It hardly mattered. “No, not at all. I–”

“No! Trixie’s not falling for it!” After nearly literally falling over and then taking another swig of wine, Trixie continued, “Why else would you show up other than to humiliate Trixie again? Well, two can play at that game!”

In perhaps the worst but somehow successful display of spellcasting Twilight had ever seen, Trixie managed to polymorph herself while drunk into a crude version of Twilight while also managing to preserve her inebriation. In all honesty, it was a rather impressive feat.

“Ooh, I’m Twilight Sparkle,” Trixie began. The polymorph hadn’t even come close to Twilight’s true voice, but it at least sounded different. “I’m the high and mighty student of Princess… Um… No, not that jerk. Uh, Celestia! Yeah, Princess Celestia. I’m way too good at everything to even acknowledge when a pony speaks to me.”

That had slivers of truth to it, although Twilight had no idea why Trixie would mention it. Not that she would take drunken ramblings very seriously to begin with. “Fine, I’ll play along.” It wasn’t likely Trixie would remember tonight anyway. “You caught me. I had a hot air balloon ready with twenty zebras in it for an elaborate practical joke on you, but you’re just too smart for me.”

“Ah ha!” Trixie cried as she reverted to her base form. “You admit it! You can’t fool the Great and Powerful Trixie!”

Twilight facehoofed. Maybe I should just knock her out for both our sakes.

Predictably, the Drunk and Unbalanced Trixie fell over onto her back on the road when she tried to pose dramatically on her hindlegs.

After Trixie hadn’t moved for a few seconds, Twilight asked, “Would you like some help?”

“Trixie doesn’t want any help from you! Trixie would never be able to forgive herself!” Groaning, she rolled over and eventually managed to teeter back to her hooves. “And what’s that thing you’ve been hiding?” She reached out with her magic and, with only a token level of opposition, snagged the invisible Laughter from Twilight. She truly did have an impressive gift for illusions and transmutation to be able to do so much while five minutes shy of passing out from an alcohol overdose. “Better not be something to humiliate Trixie with.”

After countering the spells on Laughter, Trixie squinted her eyes to get a better look at its revealed form. “What? It’s just a big rock. Why are you carrying around a big rock?” And then her eyes widened in misunderstanding. “Oh, I see. It wasn’t enough for you to humiliate Trixie yesterday. You missed her last time, so you came to hit her properly. Well, it won’t work!”

Twilight rolled her eyes.

Meanwhile, Trixie threw Laughter down into the ground hard enough to shatter the cobblestone road and bury it up to a quarter of its height. “Ha! Your plan has been foiled by the All-Knowing and Omniscient Trixie!”

This time, Twilight went for a full facehoof, the second for this conversation already. “Trixie, you – I don’t even know. You’re so drunk. You know what? Fine. You’ve defeated me. Oh, woe is me. I’ll just have to go back to my tower to scheme another day. I’ll just take that rock back and–”

“No!” Trixie shouted. At the same time, she stomped on Laughter, only to topple over into a graceless face plant when her hoof suddenly lost its support. “Argh! Trixie’s blind! Curse you, Sparkle! Trixie will have her reven–”

Trixie choose that exact moment to vomit. Fortunately for them both, she managed to miss the now awakened Laughter before passing out entirely.

Well… Mission accomplished, I guess. I’ve got the liar, the thief, the anomaly, the stalker, the narcissist, and the shut-in.

It was a far cry from the collection of bearers Twilight had expected. In some ways, that was good. In many others, however, it was a disaster. She could only hope the Elements knew what they were doing.

Author's Notes:

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Revision Notes - July 10th (2020)

Chapter Thirteen - As the Night Passes

“Curious. So many centuries have passed, yet they live as though they’ve not aged a day.” It shouldn’t be possible, she realized now that her own eyes saw it for themselves. But while the scientist in her was excited, she had other business today. It would have to wait for another time.

Reluctantly, Twilight set about cleaning up after the mess Trixie had made. Once she had, she carried the unconscious mare back into her wagon to tuck her into bed. There would be a better time to speak than this. She quickly penned a short letter explaining what Laughter was and what it did and then placed both it and the note atop Trixie’s wardrobe, careful not to touch any of the magical artifacts littering the wagon. The collection had her salivating a bit, in truth. There were so many, and she didn’t know what any of them were. Trixie hadn’t even placed any additional security on them to ward off inquisitive horns!

But they, too, would keep for another time. Starting this friendship off with an invasion of privacy would hardly get Twilight anywhere with a mare who already openly professed to hating her. So she forced herself to willingly step outside the wagon. After checking her spellwork no less than six times to be sure she wouldn’t accidentally kill herself, Twilight pushed a sizeable fraction of her total magic into a teleport.

Thus did Twilight reappear inside the ruins of the Old Castle inside the Everfree Forest where Celestia had set up a safe teleport point. She could already feel Magic’s call beckon her onward, and Celestia’s own magic thrummed with power all around her. Up ahead, she spotted the source of both along with Moon Dancer. As she’d expected, they were busy working on setting up the trap for Luna. It was, for anypony else, the very definition of overkill, but at best it would hold Luna off for a few critical seconds.

Twilight trotted forward carefully. None of the enchantments present were armed and ready, but she nonetheless felt uneasy walking through them. She pushed them from her mind as best as she could as she greeted the other two ponies present. Moon Dancer looked a little worn down, which she’d expected. Even only handling the administrative side of things for the most part, her job wasn’t easy to just pick up and run with. Celestia, on the other hoof, wore a look of concentration. When she finished casting the current spell she was working on, it faded into a warm and welcoming smile.

Once all greetings had been exchanged and Celestia had extracted a lingering hug, Twilight asked, “So how is everything going?”

“Well,” Celestia summarized simply. “Nothing of particular interest has happened in your absence.” She said that like it was a bad thing, and for an immortal, perhaps it was. “I arranged for Lyra Heartstrings’s full citizenship, but the remainder of that mess remains unresolved as of yet.” After a moment of consideration, she added, “Cadance may wish to speak with you about her project.”

Twilight made a mental note to visit the entire family when she eventually stopped by to chew out Shining for the part he’d played in Loyalty’s awakening.

Moon Dancer’s horn dimmed until the magic at its tip faded away. “Everything is correct.” She returned the instructions for the trap to Celestia for further work. After adjusting her glasses, she asked, “How are the Elements coming along?”

“Good,” Twilight replied perhaps a little too quickly. “Good. I actually just finished awakening the last one.” With a little prompting from Celestia, she elaborated. “Sweetie Belle bonded with Generosity. That’s the filly you met when I was in the hospital. That settled me on taking her on as a student.”

While Celestia smiled waned a little at hearing all that, she didn’t comment. Twilight didn’t ask. She’d already told herself whatever criticisms were surely running through Celestia’s mind anyway.

“Pinkie Pie ended up with Kindness. I think she and I will be all right.” And in all honesty, after today, Twilight felt that might actually be the case. “We just needed to set some boundaries.”

“Such as leave the scalpel at home?” Celestia teased.

Moon Dancer looked between the two of them. Without context, she had no idea why they were laughing.

Unfortunately, that brought Twilight to the next Element. Her face warped into a scowl. “Shining sent Sergeant Flash Sentry to Ponyville.”

“Oh dear.” Celestia recognized the name, it seemed.

Twilight immediately said, “It’s fine.” It really wasn’t, but she would deal with it. Flash was a guard. To survive under Shining’s watch, he surely had to have a proper sense of fealty to the crown. She could work with that in this situation.

“What am I missing?” Moon Dancer asked.

“In the interest of getting to bed at a somewhat reasonable hour,” Celestia began, “I think it best not to get her started.”

Twilight snorted. She wouldn’t waste that much time on a mere nuisance. “Laughter went to the Great and Powerful Trixie.”

At the mention of the only pony to get herself expelled from the School for Gifted Unicorns in decades, Celestia perked up a little. “Trixie? Is she well?”

Moon Dancer, who had attended the school in the same year, had a decidedly opposite reaction. “Is she still a danger to herself and everypony around her?”

“Well…” Considering that Trixie had just drunk herself into a blackout, Twilight couldn’t honestly say she was well, but she’d clearly polished her magical skills since leaving school. “I suppose she’s doing all right on both fronts,” Twilight ultimately decided upon. “And she kind of despises me. For unclear reasons. I may need you…” Celestia might not be the best intermediary, on second thought, considering whose school Trixie had gotten thrown out of. “I’ll figure something out. If nothing else, we won’t be lacking for conversation material.” She wanted to know everything about those magical artifacts Trixie had: what they did, where they came from, how she’d acquired them.

“Might I suggest you start with politely asking why she dislikes you? I find these sorts of grudges tend to stem from simple misunderstandings.”

“Like with Luna?”

Celestia winced. “Like with Luna.” Her gaze drifted up to the moon. “Sometimes simple things cut deeper than anything.”

“I see…” The last time Twilight had tried that, Trixie had challenged her to a duel. Still, if Celestia said to give it another shot, she doubted it would hurt to make a second attempt. “Well, that’s all I had. I just thought I’d stop by and let you know all of the Elements are awake.”

Celestia held her wing wide in invitation, and Twilight stepped into it for a farewell hug. “Come visit again soon. We all miss you.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” It was only twenty more days before the solstice, a mere four weeks, a moon and some change. It was so little time to prepare, but it also felt like such a long time to wait. Maybe she and the other bearers would benefit from some time apart on occasion. They did have a movie night scheduled. She could make time to attend that, at least. Perhaps Sweetie Belle might like to come along. She’d have to give that a little more thought.

“One more thing,” Celestia said. She lowered her voice. “I’ve yet to tell anyone about my sister’s dreamwalking.”

Twilight quickly tallied up everypony she’d told. Beyond Celestia herself, there was only Sunset, Sweetie Belle, and by extension, probably the Crusaders. Pinkie Pie might know given that they roomed together, but that was it. “Any particular reason why?” She’d kind of assumed Shining would know when she’d asked him to start vetting ponies now that they knew Luna existed.

“For the same reason I never insist on the changelings openly integrating into Equestria.”

Ah. Rampant suspicion and fear. Such things had happened to other governments, Twilight knew. “Fair enough,” she said as she broke away. “I have little to no control over what her own friends and contacts do, but I understand your point.”

After exchanging her final goodbyes, when Twilight turned to leave, Moon Dancer stepped forward and offered to see her out. Then once they were out of earshot, Moon Dancer finally spoke what was on her mind.

“Twilight, Princess Celestia isn’t… She’s not doing well.”

That much was obvious even from that brief exchange. “Yeah, I noticed.” Twilight risked a glance back at Celestia, who had already returned to her own work. “Please just keep looking after her. I hope to have some good news for her soonish unrelated to the Elements. Don’t mention that to her, though. I don’t want to get her hopes up in case it doesn’t work out.”

“Will it really help?”

Twilight nodded. If she could get Luna to talk to Celestia, even to just consider it, however much it hurt one or the other, it would be good for them both. But speaking of whom, it was time to face another night in Luna’s company.

The locals knew it as the Temple of the Ephemeral Moon. Legend had it that the when the clock struck midnight and the stars aligned, it appeared deep within the misty forest under the light of the full moon. Few ponies had ever seen it, and nopony had ever managed to enter it, for those who tried found it to be not a temple but a fortress. Then, before anypony more qualified could be summoned, it disappeared back into the darkness of the night.

To Chrysalis, it sounded like somepony’s unmaintained illusion spells were malfunctioning. She might assign a few members of her hive to fix that while she was here.

“Your Majesty, we found something.”

Chrysalis paused in her inspection of the protections surrounding Princess Luna’s ancient workshop. “What is it, Pharynx?”

“A local. He met with a mare passing through town around the time when the staff disappeared. She introduced herself as Lulamoon.”

Lulamoon? That couldn’t be right. According to the histories Chrysalis’s mother had left her, the last Lulamoon had died years before Princess Luna’s banishment. A pretender? It was possible, she supposed. Having the wit to recover the Night Guardian Staff didn’t preclude anyone from presumptuous behavior liable to set an angry alicorn on them. But perhaps a line of Lulamoons endured in secret to await their princess’s return. If they passed the title down to a worthy successor…

Chrysalis supposed it didn’t really matter right now. It could be a red herring for all she knew. There would be time to determine such minor details when she eventually found the person – she wasn’t ruling any species out yet – who’d stolen the staff. “Why did Princess Celestia not hear this stallion’s story?”

“He moved away. When she came looking, he must have slipped through the cracks. He’s only recently returned to Hollow Shades.”

That was bad luck, but Chrysalis understood. A sovereign only had so much time to spare for such projects. Such was the magic of delegation. Without the burden of secrecy, she could perform a full investigation. She’d have to request Equestria’s census data for Hollow Shades and have someling pore over it. A quick thought over the hive mind sent one of her changelings off to complete that project for her. It was good to be queen.

Finishing her inspection of the wards, enchantments, and other protections placed over Princess Luna’s workshop took a few more hours. She found nothing there that Princess Celestia hadn’t informed her of, nor had anyone made any modifications to them. That could mean too many things for her to reach any conclusions, so she paid it no mind and finally entered.

Books, trinkets, artifacts, weapons, armor, paintings, sculptures, and every manner of fascination littered the shelves, tables, walls, floors, and even ceilings. Some of it was broken junk fit only for research. Most sat idle, either disabled or no longer functional. But the rest? They went about whatever they were designed to do: strange devices that, lacking context, glowed without meaning; a set of boots that emitted puffs of short lived clouds; a magically isolated orb of softly swirling dark light which all but screamed evil and corruptive; a clock that stopped ticking when observed.

As she explored, Chrysalis only found more and more treasures lost to the world. An entire hall had been dedicated just to enchanted mirrors, although only one, a massive crystal mirror, appeared fully intact and potentially functional. In another room, three of the legendary Mage Meadowbrook’s eight enchanted items sat openly and unadorned in plain sight! Had she only discovered this workshop before the traitor revealed the hive to Equestria, she would have stripped it bare and never looked back.

With some amusement, Chrysalis considered that the real reason Princess Celestia had never sent Twilight here years ago to search for the staff was not to hide Princess Luna’s existence but because she would never be heard from again. Or worse, she might realize she served the wrong princess. How strange it was that the elder sister had borne the Element of Magic when the younger seemed more well-suited at a glance. Perhaps Magic is a mistranslation from Pre-Discordian Ponish? It doesn’t exactly fit with the other five Elements.

Chrysalis finally came upon where the crown jewel of this collection was supposed to reside. Of all the treasures someone might take, only it was missing. That spoke of a thief acting with either haste, ignorance, or purpose. The first seemed unlikely, as Princess Celestia hadn’t mentioned rushing to the workshop in an attempt to stop a burglary. The second she doubted, for who would have the magical skills necessary to enter this place uninvited and not recognize any of the other priceless artifacts on display?

Hmm, I wonder if our thief is a thief at all. If there truly is a Lulamoon running around with some measure of legitimacy, that would explain why only Princess Luna’s favorite toy is missing so near to her return.

Of course, even a hostile, powerful mage with the Night Guardian Staff in their possession could be a very large threat all on their own, no alicorn required. Chrysalis stopped to reevaluate the wisdom in letting Ocellus wander freely, but she was well protected where she was and didn’t seem to have any intention of leaving. Unless something changed, Chrysalis felt no need to explicitly restrict her movements.

“Hmm?” A thick book lay carelessly discarded on the floor nearby with a depiction of the Night Guardian Staff in view. Chrysalis picked it up, read a bit of it, and laughed. Penned by Luna, the collection of research notes was probably the closest thing that existed to a manual for the staff. Everyone always threw out the manual, didn’t they?

At any rate, now that Chrysalis had determined that the workshop was safe, relatively speaking, to enter and explore, she called the changelings who’d accompanied her here to come join her. Then she instructed for word to be spread through the hive that they were to keep their eyes and ears peeled for any sign of a Lulamoon running about Equestria.

Then with all that out of the way, Chrysalis turned her attention to the thousands of artifacts and books surrounding her. She couldn’t take anything without it being missed and the perpetrator obvious, but nothing stopped her from gleaning what knowledge she could with the time here she had available.

Twilight successfully made her way into her dreamscape with little difficulty. It’d grown easy with a little practice. Perhaps a second after she did, she heard a soft flump, and upon realizing that it was Luna’s journal falling, caught it before it tumbled off the couch onto the floor. She doubted it could be damaged without specifically unraveling whatever twisted dream logic protected it, but books were always to be treated with the utmost respect – even the Inspiration Manifestation.

After a full minute had passed by the clock – a properly functioning while sleeping dreamwarming gift from Seabreeze – Twilight gave up waiting for Luna to notice her sleeping state and left for her library. She shelved Luna’s journal there where she could keep an eye on it and then returned to work on the lesson plan for Sweetie Belle she’d started last night.

Not long later, Twilight’s eyes drifted back toward Luna’s journal. A frown overtook her as she stared at it. Writing her own journal to protect against memory loss or alteration had been one of the most motivating reasons she’d held when she’d decided to learn how to enter her dreamscape. With all the chaos in her life as of late, it’d slipped her mind entirely. She looked back down at her lesson plans, then back at the journal.

Priorities, Twilight. You have enough to keep Sweetie Belle occupied for now.

Sighing, Twilight dreamed up a pair of journals. In the first she would record her life story as she remembered it up to the present. That would have to be a slow, incremental process. She was by no measure an old mare, but she’d crammed a lot of life into her early years. She would probably need a separate series of logbooks entirely to record her work as the archmage when she got to it, but for now, she labeled the journal and set it aside.

To the second journal, Twilight added an amusing title: Friendship is Magic. She chuckled to herself. It was an ancient pony idiom from before Discord, one which had endured through the fall of civilization, and it seemed only fitting. She was, after all, attempting to power a set of Pre-Discordian magical artifacts with friendship. In this journal, she would record her life from when Spike first brought her The Tale of the Royal Pony Sisters up until the solstice and her confrontation with Luna. She would need to remind herself to remain relatively objective multiple times, she was sure. For her purpose, her opinions were as important to record as facts, but she might turn to venting if she treated this too much like keeping a diary.

And thus Twilight began writing, fully engrossing herself in her work. Her time in Ponyville remained fresh and unspoiled. Beyond the magical enchantments she used to improve her long-term memory, the last couple weeks had been filled with remarkable events and new experiences, many extraordinarily frustrating. She doubted she’d forget them anytime soon. The stampede in particular, now that she’d gotten to it, had a strange mixture of random chaos, irritation, and the joy of meeting Sweetie Belle.

“Good–”

Twilight did not shriek. That would be silly. Nor did she have a teleport on the tip of her horn.

Luna arched her eyebrows. “–evening. Not expecting company?”

“No, no.” Perhaps the chime announcing visitors should be a little louder. “Just got a bit distracted. I put your journal over there on the shelf.”

Following Twilight’s hoof, Luna found the book in question and took it back into her magic. She seemed satisfied by whatever inspection she performed of it. “Thank you for taking care of it.” After a short pause, she continued, “I realize you woke prior to my full breakdown, but I nonetheless apologize for losing my temper in front of you again.”

Twilight delayed her response to consider which direction she wished to proceed. There were so many possible avenues, and it was at times like these that she wished she had Celestia’s gift for conversation and influence. Then again, if her ultimate goal was to befriend Luna, all she could really do was be herself and maybe temper some of her snark.

“I’m fairly certain bottling up your emotions is what got you banished,” Twilight decided upon.

“While I have long ago admitted such was a contributing factor, I make no excuses for the flaw in my temperament now.”

Twilight bit her tongue to deliver a properly measured response. “There’s a difference between not getting angry and hiding that anger.”

“Point,” Luna allowed after a few moments to likely reflect upon her exact wording.

And with that concession, Twilight continued, “I don’t expect you to be anything but a pony. I’m the shoulder Celestia cries on. I can handle being the mare you scream at.” She snorted. “I foresee several shouting matches in our future if, come the solstice, you win your little spat with her.”

Luna scrutinized Twilight with a wary, skeptical eye. And she had good cause to do so. Twilight hadn’t exactly weathered the storm well the last time she’d lost control.

No sense in not addressing the elephant in the room. It might even flatter. “You know how when you know a spell really, really well and you put it down for a while, it takes a little effort to get back into practice?”

“Yes?” Clearly, Luna had no idea why that mattered.

Although she was sure she would never hear the end of this, Twilight said, “It’s been a while since I last dealt with an actual threat.” Pinkie Pie and Lyra were merely the tip of the iceberg. “I’ll get over it.”

It took a few seconds, but only that. “Twilight Sparkle,” Luna said, fighting off a fit of laughter, “are you telling me you forgot how to have courage?”

“What use is courage to a mare living in a world of insects?” Luna seemed like the sort to appreciate a good boast.

And indeed, Luna laughed now without restraint. She tried to form words a few times before giving it up as futile. It wasn’t precisely the intended result, but Twilight supposed it would do. When she finally settled, she fell silent for a time to merely breathe and catch her breath, little giggles escaping her from time to time as she did so. It gave Twilight a moment to think in which there was no expectation for her to speak. In it, she realized that Luna had opened herself, logically speaking, to the first phase of Operation Reconciliation, the name Twilight had just now given to her backup plan. She just needed to figure out how to word it.

“Ah, dear Twilight, I foresee far fewer shouting matches in our future than you, I believe.”

“Hmph.” That would do as a prompt, however, so Twilight seized the opportunity. “There’s an easy way to achieve that.”

Luna dryly observed, “Quite a few, actually. Alas, easy and disagreeable oft go hoof in hoof.”

That deserved a good roll of the eyes. “Quite. Regardless, you’ve repeatedly identified your lack of emotional control when it comes to Celestia as a flaw of your character.” Twilight pressed on despite the hardening of Luna’s eyes. “If you want to fix that, why don’t you just go hash out your differences with her right now. I already told her you’re dreamwalking, and I assure you, she regrets everything that happened between you.”

“A moment, please,” Luna said darkly. She moved to leave the library. “I need a visceral aid.”

Twilight swallowed, deeply unsettled by what the pun implied, but didn’t protest Luna’s departure. It was no short length of time in which she left the tower. Twilight tried to get some work done, but on each attempt, she only ever managed to write a few words before she inevitably became distracted. She really tried not to imagine what Luna intended to return with, but that wasn’t how her mind worked. What nightmare fuel would Luna drag into her dreamscape? Not that it helped, but the imagining, she knew, would be so much worse than the actual event.

She was so very wrong.

She heard it before she saw it. An icy chill settled deep in her chest. Her heart stopped.

“Let go of me already!”

Twilight reacted immediately. The dream warped around her will as dread and worry turned to white-hot fury. In but moments, she had her precious son wrapped up in her hooves while Luna slammed against a wall with all access to magic stripped from her. “How dare you! Spike has nothing to do with this!”

A half-mad cackle met the demand.

Twilight slammed Luna against the wall again, this time hard enough to crack even an earth pony’s bones. “This isn’t funny! What did you do to him?” She turned her attention to the dragon in her arms. He protested that he was fine when she fussed over him, but she wasn’t satisfied. “Well?”

“Would it matter if I said I was sorry?”

A thousand nightmares all plagued Twilight at once. She truly had no idea what Luna could do to someone while banished. Dreamscapes existed within one’s magic, so dreamwalking must involve a meeting of magics. If Luna could do that much, anything was theoretically possible.

“What did you do!” Twilight screeched as her thoughts converged toward worst-case scenarios.

“Heh heh.” The laughter was weaker this time, and from the way her eyes swam, Luna would likely have a concussion if any of this were real. “Autumn spoke truly. Cousins, indee–” She bit back the beginnings of a scream as Twilight skipped the middlemare and triggered her nociceptors directly to cause pain. When she could speak again, she said with shaking words, “Oh, Twilight, so much trouble over a doll.”

“A – a doll?” Even as she said the words, Twilight felt the Spike still wrapped protectively in her hooves crumble away into dream dust, and even that vanished without a trace. Her magical grip on Luna broke in her shock. He’d looked, and sounded, and felt so real, not a detail out of place. Luna must have taken the time to observe him in his dreams.

And as for the mare herself, she grunted as she hit the floor, but it didn’t stop her from rising to her hooves nor from stalking forward. “Was this justice, Twilight Sparkle?”

“I-I–”

She heard the uneven four-beat gait of Luna’s hooves, unable to look at their source.

“I…”

She’d never lashed out like that before.

“What did I do?”

She’d leapt straight to torture.

Luna drew near. Her voice lowered. “Should I toss you into an oubliette for a thousand years for this assault I provoked? Is that justice?”

Twilight knew the parallels Luna was trying to draw with this living analogy, but she couldn’t stop the tremors running through her nor slow her quickening breath long enough to argue back.

“It is my weakness to desire retribution as I pursue the nebulous concept we call justice,” Luna said with an air of finality. “As a pony who has lived a blessed life free of any true loss or suffering, the difference between the two can be difficult to understand.” She breathed deeply. “I shall leave you to your thoughts for the night.”

With the same uneven gait, Luna retreated toward the library’s entrance. Her hooves echoed heavily in the silence, each irregular beat a reminder of how they’d gotten that way.

Had that really all been her? Twilight didn’t have clean hooves. Years of fighting megalomaniacs and ponies who just wanted the world to burn had made sure of that. But she’d never once been so overwhelmed with anger. Was that what Luna had to deal with so often? Was that Sombra’s fault, or was it just nature? Was it something the fake Spike had induced in her, or was it, in fact, just her nature?

The library door opened. Twilight’s eyes snapped up to Luna’s ragged form. There was no blood. She’d been too clean and efficient for that. Any bruises would be hidden beneath her dark blue coat. But the bones out of alignment, those she could see. She knew what that felt like.

“Luna.” Twilight waited until the mare looked back her way. “I’m sorry.”

Luna’s frown remained unchanged. “I apologize as well. In this, I think we may call ourselves truly equal.” She turned away and then added, “I shall not forget that you have courage indeed, Twilight Sparkle,” as she departed.

The door shut. While it might have been implied in their last exchange, Twilight couldn’t help but note that neither of them had explicitly accepted the other’s apology.

Author's Notes:

Behold! A shameless promotion for my Patreon.

---

Revision Notes - July 10th (2020)

Chapter Fourteen - Coming Together

“Prithee tell me why I should not unleash my wrath upon him personally?” It was a fair question, just as restraint was understandably a lot to ask of her. Everything that had gone wrong in her life could be traced back to that stallion’s lust for power.

Luckily, an excellent answer existed. “Because if you don’t, I may be able to coax the mare who would be your number one problem into becoming an ally.”

Trixie groaned as she awoke. Her eyes squeezed shut tight against the infernal sun. She had a hangover worthy of being locked away in Tartarus. Flailing about blindly with a hoof, she searched for the cure to what ailed her. To her disappointment, it seemed to be avoiding her. “Niian, where are you?”

The Night Guardian Staff, which Trixie affectionately shortened to Niian despite its lack of personhood, reached out to answer its master’s call. The little spark of it establishing mental contact never failed to make her jump. “Other side. On the wall mount.”

With some effort, Trixie vaguely recalled putting Niian there. Yesterday was such a blur. Her hoof found her staff. A little dexterous bump knocked it off its hooks to land perfectly on top of her barrel. She curled all of her legs around it and snuggled back into bed. “Hangover cure, Niian. Use your own reservoir.” If she had to supply the magic for this, she knew her horn wouldn’t ever let her forget the cost. She’d just have to top the staff off again once she felt better.

At its usual rapid pace, the Night Guardian Staff did as directed and constructed the spell. It then applied it in short order, and Trixie sighed at the relief that swept through her. “Thanks, Niian.” Why had she ever thought it was a good idea to drink so much? So what if life liked to buck her at every turn? So what if everything she ever reached for always amounted to nothing? She was the Great and Powerful Trixie! Nopony could take that from her.

Maybe someday that would be enough.

As Trixie lay in bed, the longer she went undistracted, the more she noticed something tugging on her mind. Niian, a relic from civilization at its height just before the Discordian Collapse, knew how to shield her from such effects, yet it still managed to pierce those protections. That had never happened before.

“Niian, is there a big scary monster nearby?”

After a quick scan, it replied, “Results inconclusive.”

“What do you mean results inconclusive?” Trixie mumbled sleepily. Reluctantly, she flung the covers off her over Niian and sat up in her bed. She paid no mind to the cool morning air and scanned the room. “So where is the…” Her eyes landed on a fantastic necklace sitting atop her wardrobe. It most certainly wasn’t hers, but as the saying went, finders keepers. “What is that?” she asked as she rolled out of bed.

Surprisingly, she got an answer. “The Element of Laughter, one of six artifacts collectively known as the Elements of Harmony. Last known bearer: Luna.”

Trixie withdrew her hoof from the necklace as though she’d been burned. “The Great and Powerful Trixie doesn’t need your charity,” she said to nopony who could hear her. It didn’t work with her color scheme, anyway. Gold would clash with her colors and ruin her stage presence, and the blue gem would…

The gem was nearly the same color as her coat, and it was cut to form the layered stars found on her cutie mark.

“That’s a nice touch, Trixie admits,” she said, again speaking to nopony present, “but you’ll have to do a lot better than hoof-me-downs. Niian, did you see who left this here?”

“Standby mode,” it replied simply by way of explanation.

Trixie clicked her tongue. She recalled now, if only hazily, telling it to stop chiding her for drinking and to go to sleep. When her gaze returned to the necklace, this time she noticed a letter placed beside it amongst the clutter atop her wardrobe. She debated just throwing both straight into the trash, but her curiosity got the better of her.

‘Trixie, the necklace is called the Element of Laughter. You took it from me last night and bonded with it, so…yeah. Kind of my fault for letting my guard down while you were inebriated. I’ll be by in the morning to discuss what this means for you.

‘As for Laughter itself, don’t mind the compulsion to wear it. It’s harmless. In fact, it has a few abilities. Like the other Elements of Harmony (there are six in total), it will give you a modest magical boost, and you can summon it back to you from anywhere. It’s primary function is to make your own mood infectious in a radius centered around you. Think “reverse empath”. For example, if you’re enjoying one of your performances, so will your audience. If you’re feeling down, misery loves company.

‘Twilight Sparkle’

Of course it would be her. Granted, Trixie hadn’t expected somepony so deep in the sun princess’s pocket, but it’d been about time for life to slap her again. She’d been beginning to get feeling back in her cheeks. And what bigger insult could there be than this? “Trixie does not need a performance enhancer. There is no greater showpony in Equestria already.”

Trixie unceremoniously dumped both the letter and Laughter in the trash with her nose held high.

“Warning: improper artifact disposal detected.”

Leveling a glare on Niian, still covered in blankets, Trixie said, “Don’t you start.” Honestly, she didn’t know where it got its penchant for snippy remarks. It barely even spoke Modern Ponish.

A knock came at the door to Trixie’s wagon. While the sun was up, it was far too early in the morning for Twilight Sparkle to come pester her, so it was probably a fan. She could use a visit from her adoring public right about now.

But behind the door awaited not a foal looking up with starry-eyed wonder nor a grown pony with an interest in the mystic arts. Instead, it was the ‘big scary monster’. For a moment, the two stared at each other. Then the monster opened her mouth, which snapped Trixie from her stupor just enough to slam the door in Princess Celestia’s face. And that, in hindsight, probably just made the situation worse.

Panic set it. Princess Celestia was at her door. Princess Celestia was at her door alone. Anything that happened would pass unwitnessed. She could try running, but she doubted she could get very far even with Niian’s assistance. It would have to be guile and sleight of hoof, then. She’d talked her way out of less dangerous situations with more reasonable ponies, and if she didn’t think about it too hard, that gave her confidence.

When the next knock came on her door, Trixie nervously glanced at all of the artifacts in her wagon whose possession would be heavily frowned upon at best. She didn’t exactly have a contingency plan for Princess Celestia herself getting off the throne and paying her a surprise visit. Niian was already as well hidden as it could be once she hissed at it to enter standby mode. That was, of course, after she quietly shrieked at it for not warning her that the ‘inconclusive big scary monster nearby’ was a physical goddess at her doorstep.

Trixie gave herself one last pep talk to bolster her resolve, slipped deep into her stage character, and at last flung open the door. “So even the Princess of Equestria herself has heard of the Great and Powerful Trixie’s magnificence! What astounding feat of magic can Trixie assist you with?”

The princess’s small smile and warm, light laughter came as an unexpected reaction. “Good morning, Trixie. I thought we might have a chat over breakfast. My treat?”

There was no such thing as a free lunch – or breakfast, as the case may be. Trixie suspected this was going to be about Twilight Sparkle but wasn’t in any position to refuse, so she mentally grit her teeth and replied, “An excellent idea. Ponyville would benefit from the opportunity to bask in my presence. Truly, you are a wise and benevolent diarch.” At least it would get them away from her wagon.

Walking with an alicorn certain had a way of making a pony feel small and insignificant. The ponies of Ponyville who had only last night greeted her and asked for her to perform tricks barely even noticed she existed, and those were the observant ones. Bitterly, the thought, I bet Twilight Sparkle never has to put up with this, crept into her mind. Worse, it was probably true.

“Ah, Sugarcube Corner,” Princess Celestia said. “I have it on good authority that the cake here is extraordinary.”

Whether or not the cake could be termed as such, the service certainly could. Within seconds, they had a private table, more attention than they knew what to do with from the proprietors, and their food arrived fresh out of the oven in record time. It all probably had more to do with there being an alicorn in their party than any normal standards, but Trixie didn’t bother complaining.

When they finally got a little bit of actual privacy upon request, Princess Celestia said, “How have you been, Trixie? I usually keep an ear up for any news about my students, but the last I heard of you must have been…”

“Since you tossed Trixie out like used bathwater?”

Princess Celestia’s smile waned as she offered a little sigh. “My dear little pony, certain allowances are made at my school for magic gone wrong, but you recklessly exceeded them time and again despite every attempt we made to caution you. At some point, we had to consider the other students’ safety and your effect upon the learning environment.”

Trixie mutely harrumphed and turned away. The effect was somewhat lessened by the large bite of doughnut she ate, but what was she supposed to do? It was good.

Without warning, a very pink earth pony was sitting at their table. “Stand back, Your Highness,” the mare said. “I’ve got this. Now let’s turn that sad frown upside down.”

“Do you mind?” Trixie said. “This conversation has nothing to do with…” It was then that she noticed the mare had a golden necklace much like Laughter around her neck. Its pink gem, however, was cut in the shape of a balloon.

“If I may,” Princess Celestia began, “this is Pinkie Pie.”

Pinkie Pie gasped in far too much shock for such a simple thing. “You know my name? Can you read minds too?”

It was subtle, almost unnoticeable, but a hurt look flashed over Princess Celestia’s face. “Once, but no longer. Regardless, Pinkie Pie here bears the Element of Kindness. Pinkie Pie, may I introduce you to Trixie, the bearer for the Element of Laughter.”

“Ooh! Hello, Trixie. Nice to meet you. I’m Pinkie Pie, but I guess you already knew that. My friends call me Pinkie, and we’re going to be the very best from now on. I was going to ask for Laughter, you know, but then I ended up with Kindness first, and Twilight said only one Element per pony, and I just realized I should have called her Index because I don’t know if you know yet, but she did say that you saw through her disguise after a little too much partying, so I guess it doesn’t matter since you’d know right away anyway.”

By the stars, did that mare ever breathe? All Trixie had gotten out of that was the vague impression that she’d been not just an accidental choice for Laughter but not even the first accidental choice. She felt even more vindicated now for throwing it in the trash. Without Niian shielding her mind, however, the urge to go retrieve it had grown strong and stronger still now that it’d been brought up in conversation. Twilight Sparkle’s letter had mentioned she could summon it, in fact. She wouldn’t even have to leave the table. She probably just had to focus really hard on–

With a complete lack of fanfare, Laughter was around Trixie’s neck. The urge to summon it was gone, replaced by a strong desire to get rid of it again, but when she went to actually make the attempt, she found she couldn’t quite summon the will to remove it. Maybe she’d been a little hasty to throw it away. After all, if she had it, then nopony else could. That was the way these sorts of artifacts usually worked. It might be petty of her, but sometimes petty revenge felt best. She’d have to electroplate it later with silver or platinum, but for now – she lit her horn – a simple illusion spell would do. That looked much better.

Pinkie Pie let out a long sigh of relief for some reason. “We need to work on those mopey feelings of yours.”

“What? Trixie is not moping.”

“You totally are,” Pinkie Pie retorted. “Oh. And I’m just mixing in annoyance. Hmm… I’ll need a different approach with you.”

“What on Equus are you even talking about?”

Princess Celestia cleared her throat. “Kindness bestows empathic powers, Trixie, just as Laughter grants you inverse empathic abilities.”

“Oh yes, Trixie forgot about that.” She frowned down at Laughter. While she normally maintained a positive mood in circumstances other than whatever mess she’d been thrown into here, she didn’t want to go about infecting other ponies with her nice, dignified, sullen mood. That seemed like a good way to get everypony to hate her. She’d need to–

“Wait.” A wave of dread rushed through Trixie as she recalled something Pinkie Pie had said. Now that she had a little context, it sounded a lot less nonsensical and out of place. “Did you say ‘read minds too’?”

A very cheerful, “Yep!” met the question, completely unaware of the weight of what it meant.

I have to get out of town as soon as possible. The contract she’d signed hardly mattered. She’d take the hit to her reputation.

“Sweetie Belle has Generosity,” Pinkie Pie continued, thereafter proceeding to drone on about nothing about the, apparently, schoolfilly who had the mind reading Element.

Meanwhile, Princess Celestia leaned toward Trixie and whispered, “Generosity lacks a translation ability and only picks up language-based thought.” She then turned her full attention back to whatever drivel the pink one was spewing with an interest that had to be feigned.

Still, assuming the advice wasn’t a trap – and really, why should the princess deceive a completely innocent mare? – it removed the urgency to flee town at full gallop. Trixie knew Ponish well enough to freely flow between all of its past and modern incarnations while performing. She doubted a schoolfilly knew anything but the vernacular.

A few moments later, an earth pony and probably a unicorn entered Sugarcube Corner. The possible unicorn had a golden necklace just like Laughter and Kindness. Both mares froze upon spotting Princess Celestia. Their relatively good moods while under Laughter’s influence immediately plummeted as far as they could. While they appeared more nervous than terrified, that said plenty all on its own.

Trixie was beginning to see a pattern. She had enough self-awareness to realize that Twilight Sparkle had somehow managed to collect a bunch of weirdos and suspicious characters to bear whatever the Elements of Harmony were supposed to be.

As Pinkie Pie rose to greet the new arrivals and usher them over to the table, Princess Celestia said, “Bon Bon and Lyra Heartstrings. The latter is the bearer of the Element of Honesty.”

Trixie couldn’t help but snort in amusement at that. “Who is she really?”

“Ah.” It seemed Princess Celestia hadn’t expected Trixie to spot the active polymorph spell. “Those two will tell you their secrets when they choose to do so.”

The two new mares approached and, once near, dipped into a very low bow beyond what even those ignorant of royal protocol sometimes resorted to. The princess commanded them to rise, and Lyra Heartstrings spoke first once they had. “Your Majesty–”

Bon Bon elbowed Lyra Heartstrings sharply and hissed, “It’s ‘Your Highness’, Lyra!” That was a fairly big faux pas in Equestria. Most natives never made it.

“Oh! Sorry. Your Highness, I’m so sorry for the trouble I caused. Thank you for letting me stay.”

Well, that was interesting. Trixie wondered what that was about.

“While I would prefer you to have taken a different approach,” Princess Celestia replied, “both of you” – Bon Bon stared down at her hooves – “I understand how each decision you made led to worse ones.”

A long display of gratitude for the understanding followed, one largely unnecessary in Trixie’s opinion, before Bon Bon and Lyra Heartstrings sat down at the table. From how the pair leaned into each other, they were obviously a couple and probably a particularly sappy one without Laughter around.

“Hello, I’m Bon Bon, and this is Lyra. You’re Trixie, right?”

“The Great and Powerful,” Trixie added. She very deliberately turned her gaze onto Lyra and, after a moment to observe her more closely, slowly arched an eyebrow.

Lyra chuckled uneasily, leaning a little more closely into her marefriend. “I saw your duel with Twilight. You’re very good.”

“Hmph.” If that wasn’t a deflection, Trixie didn’t know what was. She could have pressed, but she would politely allow Lyra to retain whatever secret she kept. “Trixie is pleased to know some ponies recognize talent.”

The next pony to join the group came a few minutes later. He was an orange pegasus who slipped into a formal salute when he approached. The Element about his neck, like all the others, matched his cutie mark.

“At rest, Sergeant,” Princess Celestia commanded. “Congratulations on your promotion, by the way. I doubt Twilight realizes, but she informed me of it last night.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Continuing with a light scolding tone, Princess Celestia said, “I do hope you will remember that now is not the time to chase a certain tail.”

“Yes, well…” The stallion looked properly chastised. “The arch – Twilight made her position on such very clear last night. I understand the severity of the situation.”

Situation? “What situation?” Trixie asked.

Princess Celestia hummed curiously. “Did Twilight not inform you?”

She had not. And that was likely because Trixie had passed out. Hoping to preserve her dignity, she opted not to say a word more about that and merely shook her head.

“I see. In short, my sister is returning to Equestria.”

Trixie really hoped nopony, Princess Celestia especially, noticed her pale. Had she just been inducted into an anti-Luna task force?

Like most days, this was an excellent morning to lie in bed and relax in that blissful state between dreams and the waking world. She knew she should really get up and get back to her homework, and she certainly wanted to, but she’d already studied herself to exhaustion far past her regular bedtime. She deserved this.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to wake her?” came Rarity’s echoed words.

Sweetie Belle knew in some vague sense that Index and her sister were downstairs doing something together, but most of what she heard from them was gibberish. They shared a common language in Modern Ponish to communicate, and those spoken words echoed in their minds, but they’d both chosen a different language to do the remainder of their thinking in to preserve their privacy, which was no fun at all.

“No, I can wait a while still.”

A few moments passed, and then Rarity observed, “You certainly don’t look eager to meet up with the other bearers.”

While Sweetie Belle didn’t get a direct response to that, she imagined Index didn’t ignore Rarity’s pointed words entirely.

“Besides,” Index then said, “I’m happy to assist with your experiment. I’ve never made an artifact from scratch before. This is so exciting!”

Rarity was studying to become an artificer? Permanent enchantment was cutting edge magic! From what little Sweetie Belle had heard, that line of work required skill, precision, and dedication – which, upon reflection, she supposed her sister had.

“I know, dear, but do be careful with those chemicals. They stain. Everything.”

“Ahhhh, so that’s what that illusion–”

“Twilight Sparkle! One does not comment upon a lady’s beauty spells.”

Sweetie Belle froze in her bed.

“Here, let me get that for you.”

“Oh. Oh! Thank you. Could you teach me how to do that?”

It was such a mundane conversation for a secret of such magnitude to be revealed.

“Well… For skin and hair, I’d rather not. But fibers? Probably. You have an abnormal level of exactness with magic.”

“Darling, you simply must work on your delivery when it comes to compliments.”

Sweetie Belle jumped out of bed and set about making herself look as presentable as possible as fast as possible.

“You’re two or three standard deviations above average?”

“Now you’re just teasing.”

She was the protégé of the Archmage of Equestria! There mustn’t be a single hair out of place. Ever.

“Oh dear. You’re not teasing, are you?”

“Maybe a little. But my meaning is clear and precise!”

Did she need to take a bath? She’d taken one last night, but did she need another? She didn’t think so. She hoped she wasn’t mistaken.

“Yes, of course, dear,” Rarity said indulgently. “Now this won’t explode or anything when we remove it from its fastenings, will it?”

“Well, in theory–” After a moment of relative silence, the archmage continued, “Yes, well, no. The topology supports a few dangerous spells, but I don’t think you could fold the cloth into them even on purpose. But it won’t work, either, once you exceed the magics’ margin of error. It’ll just uselessly cycle ambient magic through it.”

Was a dress too much? It was too much, wasn’t it? The Archmage liked practicality.

“That’s why spatial magic is so core to this field. You need to map a variable surface into a complicated, rigid mesh in three-space. An introductory study of topology wouldn’t hurt you, either.”

“That’s what I have you for, darling. I don’t suppose you’d like to quit your job and go into business together?”

Sweetie Belle imagined her sister batting her eyelashes at the archmage. She knew she probably wasn’t far off the mark.

“Hmm… Relatively safe. Challenging. Lucrative. We’d have a near monopoly on the market. Tempting, Rarity. Very tempting. However, I’m afraid I’m otherwise tied up at the moment, what with that pesky matter of a possible regime change.”

“Oh that. Such a dreadful bore, really.”

Generosity didn’t pick up sounds like laughter, but those two were probably indulging heartily while Sweetie Belle was busy filing and polishing her hooves.

“To be honest, I wouldn’t mind doing some consulting work. This is an interesting field I wish I had more time for. I can mark up a spell diagram if you tell me what you’re trying to do. Within reason. That kind of stuff usually only takes a few minutes for me. If you want to make a transforming combat dress or something, you’ll need to learn the magic on your own.”

That sounded like an excellent activity for the Crusaders! Or it would have been had life not decided to send them their separate ways.

“Really? I’ll hold you to that promise, then. But that brings us back to where we were before we got onto this tangent. Are you sure you want to tell Sweetie Belle who you are? I know you were hoping to ease her into it so she wouldn’t be so…excitable.”

Sweetie Belle ground to a halt.

“Yeah. I remember what I was like with Celestia at that age. She still teases me about it from time to time. I treated her like the sun rose and set with her. Metaphorically speaking. She has dozens of embarrassing stories about me and hundreds of pictures. In my defense, she’s Celestia.”

“And you’re Twilight Sparkle. You may be fighting an uphill battle.”

“Ponies aren’t raised to almost-but-not-quite worship me.”

“Hero worship is much the same, darling.”

“I know. But I thought about it on the way over. All of the other bearers know who I really am, as it turns out, so somepony is going to slip up sooner rather than later. It’ll be less difficult for everypony if she knows. I already like her, anyway, which is the important part for the Elements. If Celestia could endure me, I’m sure I can endure her.”

Well. That changed things. Sweetie Belle looked in the mirror at all the extra effort she’d put into her appearance. If the archmage – no, it her teacher wanted her to just be herself, she could do that. Probably. She hoped. But wasn’t being herself because she was told to be herself a little contradictory? If she did, then being herself would be not being herself being not being herself by being herself. And that thought made her head hurt a little.

“Besides, it’s a little late to change my mind. From the pitter-patter of tiny hooves I’ve been hearing, she’s awake and eavesdropping.”

Busted!

“But how? I’ve kept my thoughts in Prench.”

“Spoken words echo across minds when ponies listen to and process them. It’s part of what makes Generosity so overwhelming at first. Celestia warned me about that, but I underestimated how bad it could get. I’m hoping Sweetie Belle’s mind learns to filter the noise before I have to return to Canterlot.”

“Yes, that certainly would make living in the castle difficult.”

Sweetie Belle frowned. She hadn’t considered that. While she could just take Generosity off as Index – no, as the archmage had reminded her yesterday, she really didn’t want to.

“Speaking of, I hope you don’t mind if I take her on a retreat of sorts. I planned to head out to my lab in the middle of nowhere with her and the other Element bearers.”

Through sheer force of will, Sweetie Belle managed to keep her excited squeal of delight to an appropriate minimum. Sure, they already knew she was listening in, but it wouldn’t do to be obvious about it without joining the conversation outright. Which she should do. Right now. She just needed to head downstairs first.

“There are already a bunch of us in the group, and I’d rather keep the risk of any extra stress on her mind at bay.”

“Please do. I’ll sort out our parents when they get back into town. If I might make a suggestion, you may wish to bring somepony her own age with.”

“Well, I do need to introduce her to Spike.”

“Oh hardly, darling. Those two have exchanged quite the number of letters already.”

“I figured, but letters aren’t the same.”

“True. And now, at last, we come to the moment of truth. Are you ready?”

Sweetie Belle arrived in Rarity’s workshop just in time to see them put the finishing touches on their joint project, a tiny piece of cloth stretched flat and fastened in place with pins. It flashed once along the magic sewn into it as it activated. Then above it, a tiny point of white light shined with about half the intensity of a lamp. It was the most basic of basic spells, in some ways simpler than telekinesis, but from the expressions on Rarity’s and the archmage’s faces, they might as well have just teleported to the moon.

“It works,” Rarity said first in a stunned whisper and then with unrestrained glee. “It works! Magnifique!”

The archmage, no less pleased in her manner, lit her horn to inspect the new artifact. “It does! And it looks fully stable, too! Should we try the hello world illusion next?”

Sweetie Belle stood stunned. It hadn’t really occurred to her that even the archmage would know that beginner’s exercise.

“Ooh, let’s!”

As they set about replacing all of their used materials with new ones, the archmage fell from exuberance into a pensive state. “You know,” she said, “I’m glad I got Sweetie Belle, no offense, but you would have been a good bearer for Generosity.”

Had the archmage really just said what Sweetie Belle thought she did? Rarity could have borne Generosity?

“I sort of feel like I’m missing out on something special.”

And that felt like a punch to the barrel. But then the archmage had said she was glad she had Sweetie Belle instead. But on the other hoof, she knew Sweetie Belle was listening in on their conversation. But then again, why would she even say it if it weren’t true? The Elements didn’t have room for that sort of doubt, right? And from what Sweetie Belle understood, Honesty could tell her the truth. Perhaps she was just way overthinking this.

Rarity looked up from her work. “Thank you, Twilight,” she said with a knowing smirk. “I’d very much like to be your friend as well.”

After a few moments of genuine shock, the archmage’s eyes softened, and her lips relaxed back into a smile. Too quietly for Sweetie Belle to hear via ears from the door, she said, “I think I’d like that.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’ll be neighbors soon, isn’t it?”

The archmage offered a nod, and nothing more was said on the subject.

“Well then,” Rarity began, “shall we get to it?”

“In a moment.” The archmage then, in all her glory without disguise, turned to look straight at Sweetie Belle. “Perhaps my protégé would be interested in a crash course on the subject beforehoof?”

Being the center of attention and with the weight of everything she’d heard since she woke on her shoulders, Sweetie Belle approached. Her stomach did flips with butterflies invited to watch the performance.

Then before she summoned the courage to meet her mentor’s eyes, the archmage spoke. “I did say I have secrets.”

So she had. Sweetie Belle made a few attempts at speech, but what did a filly say in this situation? The emotions welling up within her threatened to boil over out of her control, which was hardly the way the archmage wanted her to behave nor the way Rarity said a lady should.

The archmage sighed a little. “Do you want to know another secret?”

Rather than letting Sweetie Belle answer as was no doubt intended, Rarity let out a delighted, “Ooh! Do tell!” An askance glance from the archmage made her sheepishly clear her throat and turn away, pretending that she’d not said a word.

That little interruption aside, the archmage continued, “Celestia extended her offer to teach me in writing. I fainted outright when I read it. Until I finally met her and got it all out of my system–” She looked suddenly rather reluctant to continue. “–over a few…days. Yes. Days.”

In the background, unseen by the archmage, Rarity covered a smile and her silent laughter with a hoof.

“I didn’t accomplish anything useful until then. I’m not expecting any better from you. I believe I promised you an opportunity to talk with me anyway, so hit me with your best shot.”

Well, if she was going to be given explicit permission like that, Sweetie Belle opened her mouth.

It was a normal spring day in Canterlot. The sun was out, the birds were singing, and all good foals were playing. Such was the case for Flurry, Spike, and their new friend, Ocellus.

Flurry knew fully incorporating Ocellus into their little duo, now trio, would take time. The nymph was more self-conscious than anyone she’d ever met. But it would be worth it. Spike was great – the best cousin she could ask for, really – but having another member in their group who could fly couldn’t be beat. It opened up so many more possibilities! Pegasi had all sorts of games which only they could play. Sure, Aunt Twilight said Spike should grow wings someday, but who knew when that would happen.

Speaking of whom, Flurry caught a flash of emerald fire from below. Spike, the acting referee for their match, held a small slip of paper between his claws. After reading it, he waved his hands in the air and called for a time out. “Hey, Ocellus, can you magic some words onto paper or something?”

Not long after Ocellus flew down to help Spike out, Flurry decided she’d best take the opportunity for a rest presented to her if she wanted to keep dominating the match. Spike sent off a message of his own as she landed nearby.

“What was that about?” Flurry asked. “Another relay for Aunt Twilight?”

“Nah, she just wanted to know where–”

In a blink, Aunt Twilight appeared in their midst. Flurry yelped and took to the air, Ocellus reflexively took the form of a large rock, and Spike, used to such things, merely exchanged salutations with his mother. Flurry swore she did that on purpose just to get a reaction.

“Would you like to spend a few days in crazy land with me?”

Spike answered the question with a decidedly noncommittal hum.

“I could really use my number one assistant to help me out.”

Like a complete sucker, Spike latched onto the parental affection and said, “All right.”

“Great!” Aunt Twilight then finally turned her attention to the other ponies present – well, pony and rock, but the point remained. “Sorry to steal him away from you, girls. Nice to see you again, Ocellus.”

And like that, Aunt Twilight vanished with Spike in tow.

“Well, that happened,” Flurry said. She looked down at Ocellus. When nothing happened after a few seconds, she gave the rock a nudge with her hoof. “Hey, she’s gone. Let’s get back to our game.”

When the world stopped flashing by in a series of images, Spike found himself in what looked like a lab of some sort. He put a hand to his head. He hated long distance teleportation chains. Blinks and even short trips he could handle, but the long ones always made him feel sick on the other end even when he closed his eyes. How Twilight managed to endure them without even a bit of dizziness, he would never know.

“Where are we?” Spike asked. Looking around, if he had to describe it succinctly, he’d say one of Twilight’s dreams had managed to intrude upon the real world. There were chalkboards filled with equations, bubbling beakers with unidentified fluids dripping through tubes to other flasks until they ended up in separatory funnels, books piled neatly row by row upon their shelves, stray notes scattered about tables, devices of unknown purpose he couldn’t even being to guess at, and more besides.

Twilight hummed uncertainly at first. “Well, we’re in my secret laboratory.”

It only took Spike a few moments to realize that of course Twilight had a secret lab hidden away somewhere in the world. Why would he have ever thought otherwise? That would be silly. It didn’t answer his real question, however, so he posed it again a little more pointedly.

This time Twilight replied, “We’re somewhere underground in the Frozen North. I honestly couldn’t tell you where we are on a map in anything but an approximate sense. I use landmarks to get here.”

“Right… And what are we doing here?”

“At the moment, I need to…” Twilight summoned a list from nowhere. “Unload a delivery of snacks. Clear out space for any potential sleepovers. Upgrade the bathroom a bit. Clean the labs. Check that the emergency teleport back to Ponyville is up and running so ponies can leave without me holding their hooves. Make backup backup copies of all documents here. And most importantly, relocate all of my important research so I don’t get scooped.”

“I can help with that,” Spike said. Well, except for the part about upgrading the bathroom, but that sort of went without saying.

Twilight pulled Spike into a short hug and gave her thanks. “Sweetie Belle should be around here somewhere. Why don’t you go find her and work together.” She then headed out toward the test chambers after dumping a massive pile of food out of her bag of holding.

Right. Sweetie Belle. It kind of stung that she’d found out about this place first, even if it’d probably only been by a few hours at most. And that she’d been the one to tell him about her apprenticeship, not Twilight.

Nonetheless, Spike set out to track down his new friend and his mother’s unexpected student. As it turned out, lab stood for labyrinth. Twilight had meticulously labeled every room according to its function, of course, but the corridors wound around haphazardly and often looped back into themselves. Worse, she had no maps posted anywhere. It occurred to him after some time wandering that she’d probably built this place in a natural cave system and added some extra tunnels just to make things even more confusing.

“Ladybug Room?” Spike scratched a claw along his jaw in confusion. Did that have something to do with that weird dance Twilight and Cadance did on occasion? He reached up to the doorknob and then peeked inside. The interior was smaller than he’d expected, but it wasn’t lacking in magical formulae complicated enough to make his head spin. Judging by the other equipment in the room, there was a biological component to whatever experiment was set up in there.

Hoofsteps approached, and with them came a high-pitched voice with an accent that offended the ear for being just subtly off. “As far as I could tell, she wants to kill ladybugs. Like, all of them.”

“What?” Spike took one last peek inside before shutting the door with a shake of his head. Perhaps Twilight should add hiding this room to her to-do list. “Why would she want to do that?”

Sweetie Belle shrugged.

“Weird.” Not that it was the strangest thing Spike had ever seen her get up to. The world was very lucky Twilight usually didn’t proceed from the planning stage to actual implementation when it came to that kind of stuff.

Spike turned his full attention then onto the filly just a few steps away. “So you’re Sweetie Belle?” She matched the description that the EIS had given him and Flurry. Her coat was a royal white as pure as snow, and the twin colors curling through her mane and tail added just the right flair. She had more of an active bookworm’s figure than Twilight, likely from the crazy exploits he’d read about in her file. For a filly on the cusp of marehood who probably spent too much time reading and spellcasting, she was inordinately pretty.

A blush erupted onto Sweetie Belle’s face. Realizing he’d probably been staring too long and that his eyes had slipped down to the absolutely delicious looking necklace she wore, he said, “I’m Spike. Nice to meet you in person.”

“L-likewise.” Sweetie Belle quickly spun on her hooves back toward the way she’d come from and gestured for him to follow. “I should get back to tidying the labs. I would welcome your help.”

Thus they traveled together through the maze to where Sweetie Belle had left off. Along the way, she explained that Twilight just wanted the labs to look presentable for her guests. She kept their tower clean by virtue of letting the castle staff maintain it for her, at least insofar as they dared. After all, one never knew when one of the archmage’s quills or pillows might turn out to be an evil enchanted artifact. Here, however, she was on her own, and it showed in buildup of dust and the general disarray she left some of the rooms in.

Once they finished cleaning the room dedicated to the study of Mage Meadowbrook’s Enchanted Cauldron, Sweetie Belle retrieved the list Twilight had given to her upon her arrival and placed a check mark next to the item in question. There were still an awful lot left on the list, in Spike’s opinion, but she’d made good progress already on her own.

“So is this what you imagined doing after becoming Mom’s student?” Spike asked as they walked to the next room.

“Well… Yes and no.” Sweetie Belle zapped a pile of dust she’d been sweeping up in the corridor, banishing it from reality. “My daydreams were a little unrealistic. I never thought I would actually be here. This is all so exciting!” A bit of a prance crept into her step before she visibly restrained herself. “Sorry, I know this must be normal for you, but–”

“Hey, I get it,” Spike said. He remembered Twilight acting like a complete excited, nervous wreck around Princess Celestia when he was younger. It took her more than a decade to grow out of it. “I can tell you all sorts of disillusioning things about her if you want.” There was her OCDs, her anxiety issues, her paranoia, her social indifference. The list went on and on. She had a lot more success at hiding them now, but that mostly came from covering them up one way or another with magic or being so blatant about them that nopony noticed.

Sweetie Belle, seemingly caught between wanting to defend Twilight and knowing that Spike really just knew her better, settled for a simple, “No thank you.” Her pale green magic latched onto the next lab door’s handle, but when she tried to turn it, it only clicked in place. “It’s locked.”

“Is it on the list?”

Said list floated in front of Sweetie Belle. “What room is this?”

“Project Apotheosis.” Spike read off the door. What does that mean?

Not a moment later, Sweetie Belle said, “I have no idea.”

“If it’s on the list?” Spike asked, confused.

Sweetie Belle shook her head. “No, I don’t know what the word means. I don’t think it’s Ponish. Or at least not Modern Ponish.”

“Ah.” Although that did leave Spike to wonder how Sweetie Belle had learned to read draconic expressions well enough to know what he was thinking.

“Oh. Did Archmage Twilight not tell you that I’m a telepath?”

Spike arched an eyebrow at Sweetie Belle.

“That’s what the Element of Generosity does.” Sweetie Belle tapped her mouthwatering necklace for emphasis. “Um… Please don’t eat it?”

The request, posed as an uncertain question, snapped Spike out of staring at it again. “Sorry. I guess it’s been a while since I got to eat a major magical artifact.”

Sweetie Belle stared at Spike like he’d just set her favorite book on fire.

“What? I’m a dragon. And Mom was just going to destroy them anyway. They were evil.”

After a few moments, Sweetie Belle said, “This is just something I’m going to have to get used to, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

It seemed Sweetie Belle had nothing more to say about that. She turned back to her list and skimmed through it. “Well, this room doesn’t need attention. Let’s move on.”

With much reluctance, Twilight forced herself to approach Sugarcube Corner on hoof and in disguise for the moment as Index. This was going to be a disaster. Trixie hated her. She strongly disliked Lyra and wished Flash didn’t exist. Sweetie Belle would probably not take kindly to Trixie for obvious reasons, nor vice versa. That was a powder keg just waiting for a spark, one Spike would no doubt help provide. Hopefully, Flash would keep his mouth shut and not add fuel to the fire. What a dysfunctional mess. The only pony she had no worries about whatsoever at this point was Pinkie Pie.

But Twilight had to make it work. She would make it work. Celestia’s freedom for who knew how many years, decades, centuries, or possibly even millennia depended on it. With any luck, their time kept waiting for her arrival at Sugarcube Corner unsupervised had given them a chance to break the ice and bond without her there to screw everything up even more than she already had.

Oh, who am I kidding? This is going to be a disaster. I’ll be lucky if I only kill half of–

Twilight froze in place and blinked at the unusually sudden downward spiral of her thoughts. That usually indicated magic at work. She took a few steps back, and after a few moments, the world seemed that much brighter for no particular reason.

Fantastic. Trixie is wearing Laughter and is… Twilight took a step forward, judging the weight placed upon her emotions. –scared, perhaps? Anxious? Worried? Whatever it was, it didn’t exactly bode well. She honestly hadn’t taken Trixie for the kind of pony who would succumb to such feelings before she’d first tried her best. Shows what I know, I guess.

Twilight took a step back again. She had plenty of practice crushing her emotions beneath an uncaring hoof while she finished a mission. She could do it here against artificially induced ones as well. She just needed a moment to collect herself and decide on a course of action.

Once ready, Twilight mumbled, “Right then. Once more unto the breach,” and then advanced.

Sugarcube Corner was less busy than usual at this time of day, likely owing to Laughter’s negative influence. It took no time at all to spot the group of four bearers plus Bon Bon gathered around a table overflowing with more than enough dishware to make up for whatever business had been lost to the gloom Laughter projected. Twilight even spotted an extra large plate that she suspected had once held a multi-layered cake. If Twilight didn’t know better, she’d suspect Celestia of having been here.

“Twi–”

Pinkie Pie held Trixie’s mouth closed. With a bright cheeriness completely unreflective of her current state, she said, “Index! Good morning.”

By now, Trixie had shoved Pinkie Pie off of her. “You’re late.” The accusation had a bit of bite to it and came with a spike in annoyance from Laughter.

Once upon a time, that would have really bothered Twilight, but Celestia had sat her down not long after becoming the archmage and explained that punctuality for them was, in fact, a courtesy, not something to which they should try to rigidly hold themselves. Now it only regularly bothered her. “I know. I’m sorry. I got caught up with Rarity.”

Lyra arched an eyebrow at her, and Twilight ignored it. It wasn’t not the truth.

“Anyway, is there any chance I could talk you out of wearing Laughter?” Twilight could force the matter, of course, but that wouldn’t do anything to endear her to Trixie.

Surprisingly, however, Trixie said, “Trixie will return shortly,” and teleported away. With her departure, Laughter’s influence thankfully went with her.

“So,” Twilight began, “has she been indulging in illeism the whole time?” As far as she could recall, Trixie had done so while drunk but not on stage. When she only got confused looks in return, she clarified, “Speaking in the third person.”

That got some recognition, chuckles, and brought some cheer back to what had been a somewhat gloomy gathering. Even Pinkie Pie had looked a little strained in her own way until Trixie had left. Twilight herself was happy to fade into the background at the table as the other four chatted and amused themselves.

I wonder what’s keeping Trixie?

With Niian shielding her mind again, Trixie threw Laughter into the very bottom of her wardrobe with only mild reluctance. The Element’s compulsion somehow still had its hooves deep inside of her, but it was manageable now, something she could tolerate like a bad itch during a performance.

That still left her with a few really very minor problems. Trixie summoned her staff from beneath her blankets, brought it to her workbench, and commanded its disassembly. Distance didn’t stop Laughter’s call from reaching her, so she needed Niian in a form she could keep on her person at all times. An amulet would do just fine. Functional, yet also a decisive slap in the face. Or gem. Whatever part of a necklace one slapped. At any rate, it wouldn’t take too long to turn the Night Guardian Staff into a superior necklace. She’d done this sort of sweeping overhaul work before after first retrieving it. With any luck, even Luna herself wouldn’t recognize it once she finished, much less Princess Celestia.

But that brought up the larger question of what to do. Trixie doubted she could find a hole deep enough to hide in if she ran. Over the course of breakfast, Princess Celestia had made it clear Laughter was hers for life. If she refused to cooperate, she could simply be removed from the equation. Really, she should cooperate. It would put her at the heart of everything. It would make her the princessmaker. Once the solstice had passed, whoever sat on the throne would have her to thank.

Yet that meant working with her worst rival. And a stallion who had an obvious infatuation with the mare. And a filly who, from what Trixie had heard, worshiped her the way most ponies worshiped Princess Celestia. Moreover, Trixie didn’t know if the Elements would actually do anything to Luna. Princess Celestia had only gone on about Nightmare Moon. It would be just her luck if the friendship beam had no or too little of an effect to matter.

And beyond that, in all honesty, Trixie still felt slighted thrice over, but only just. She didn’t want proper revenge, just petty revenge.

An idea sparked in Trixie’s mind. If she played this right, perhaps she could have exactly that. On the off chance the Elements actually did anything, such would probably be for the best. But if they didn’t, then Luna got a smack to the face and maybe a minor attitude adjustment while Twilight Sparkle would have no recourse but to cry over what a failure she was. It was the perfect plan!

It was a shame Princess Celestia would be collateral damage. Trixie didn’t want even nearly that much revenge on her. But it wasn’t like an alicorn wouldn’t live through whatever Luna had planned.

As she worked, Trixie began drafting what she would say when she finally got one up on Twilight Sparkle. Such a glorious moment couldn’t be experienced off the cuff.

Well, it’s probably nothing to worry about.

Twilight resisted the urge to keep watch over Trixie with some divination magic. When she’d left, she’d said she would return shortly, and Lyra had neither said a word to contradict that nor given her an odd look. She would be back soon enough.

“So, Index,” Bon Bon began, “where is Sweetie Belle? I thought she’d be coming with you.”

“I already took her up to my lab with Spike. There’s nopony else even remotely nearby who’s not invited, so Generosity shouldn’t bother her much when we’re all gathered.”

Lyra, probably the only pony present who didn’t know, asked, “Who’s Spike?”

“My son.” Twilight ignored the shock that produced. To be fair, she was young, unmarried, lacked any of the signs of a past pregnancy, and Lyra well knew how busy her position could keep her. Still, she decided to leave his species as a further surprise. Perhaps she should find a camera. “Rarity suggested I bring him, and I took her advice. Most novels skip over the fluff involved in creating and maintaining friendships, so I have no idea what I’m doing. Luckily, I have an expert on hoof.”

Pinkie Pie gave her thanks for the acknowledgment and suggested they start with a picnic with everyone present. Twilight shrugged. Lunch drew near, she’d skipped breakfast, and it seemed like as good an idea as any.

Looking over the crowd, Twilight had three government employees and Lyra, who rarely had employment. Taking these four and Trixie more or less out of civilization until the solstice wouldn’t be a problem. There were already procedures in place to have somepony cover for Bon Bon at her confectionery. Shining could deal with finding a replacement for Flash. Maybe he’d pick better this time now that she’d be out of Ponyville most of the time. Pinkie Pie…well, nopony else could really perform at her level, but Twilight was sure Mayor Mare would find an adequate substitute. Unless they’d completely ignored the instructions she’d sent to them last night, they would be ready to vanish at least for a few days as soon as Trixie returned.

At the proper entrance to Archmage Twilight’s lab, Sweetie Belle sat waiting with Spike for the rest of the bearers to arrive. They’d found a deck of cards in one of the labs and appropriated it for their own use. Roughly half of all card games were meant for unicorns on account of their magic, but dragon claws worked just as well in most cases.

To be honest, Sweetie Belle wasn’t sure what to make of Spike. He seemed nice in his letters. He was polite and eager to help. He certainly respected her abilities. He even thought she was pretty! A slight, crimson flush crept back onto her face as she recalled that, and she cursed the misfortune of being born with a white coat. Everypony noticed when she blushed.

But on the other hoof, they would slip into long silences every so often, moments when he frowned at her and imagined far more than he put into unspoken words. She wasn’t even sure if he realized he was doing it. It felt like he had a problem with her, but his thoughts never suggested as such. Sure, there were a few things she’d really have rather not overheard. Did she really sound so bad to a Canterlot native, for example? But she knew better than to take such things to heart. Everypony had those rude, meaningless thoughts pop into their heads from time to time. She didn’t need Generosity to tell her that he had them, too. Even so, something just felt slightly off.

A surge of magic brought Archmage Twilight into the lab with a pair of earth ponies at her side. Sweetie Belle recognized them as Bon Bon, Lyra’s marefriend, and Pinkie Pie, Kindness’s bearer. They quickly stepped forward and got out of the designated entrance to the lab. As far as Sweetie Belle knew, there were no wards explicitly preventing entry elsewhere, but around so many experimental magics, it was a matter of safety.

Lyra arrived next. Although it could be mistaken as mere tiredness, her sluggish movements and diminished presence, for lack of a more scientific term, indicated a mild case of magical exhaustion. “Whew. Haven’t make a trip that long in a while.” She fell into the waiting hooves of her marefriend. “I’m gonna need a few minutes and some snuggles to recharge.”

Although she rolled her eyes, Bon Bon stepped forward to take on that burden.

“Snuggles?” Spike mumbled. “Is she a changeling?”

“What’s a changeling?” The entire room stopped to look at her, half of it as obviously confused as Sweetie Belle was.

To the archmage, Bon Bon said, “She’s a real little security vulnerability, isn’t she?”

Although Sweetie Belle didn’t understand the language, she knew Lyra and the cadence of her thoughts well enough to know she’d wanted to say something snarky at Bon Bon.

“Spike or I will tell you later, Sweetie Belle,” Archmage Twilight said, although that left the question of why Bon Bon knew about whatever they were.

Pinkie Pie, then, of course wanted to know what changelings were as well, and one didn’t need to read minds to know Lyra, too, wanted to hear an explanation.

And so Archmage Twilight sighed. “They’re shapeshifting ponies who feed off love. They’re usually harmless, and you probably know a few. Don’t tell anypony about them.”

A stallion Sweetie Belle didn’t recognize popped into the room next. He was a pegasus, however, and had an Element around his neck, so she assumed he was Flash Sentry, the bearer of Loyalty. She would do her best to keep an open mind despite the archmage’s obvious dislike of him. They all needed to be friends come the solstice, after all.

That resolve had Sweetie Belle gritting her teeth as the last member of their group arrived. Trixie had made no mystery of her hatred for all things Twilight Sparkle. While the only pony – person present whose thoughts she could understand was Spike – Pinkie Pie’s were oddly silent – she overheard enough keywords that didn’t translate to know Trixie was thinking unkind thoughts about her mentor.

“Well then, everypony,” Archmage Twilight began, “welcome to my secret lab in the Frozen North. Feel free to use the facilities as you wish while you’re here, but if you’re unsure how something works, please ask. The exit, for those who need it, is in the test chamber. It’ll send you back to Ponyville. To Pinkie Pie’s room, to be exact. Just cry out fubar to trigger the system.”

Sweetie Belle didn’t know what that meant, but she assumed it was suitably appropriate from the amused reactions it got from most of the group.

“This is built in an old cave system, so I apologize in advance if you get lost. The site is structurally stable at the expense of sensible organization. As Sweetie Belle and Spike helped me clear out a few old labs I wasn’t using anymore, there’s some space you can claim for yourself if you want it. Pinkie Pie assures me that sleepovers are essential friendship building activities, but the value of privacy cannot be overstated.”

With the introduction over, Archmage Twilight then said, “On another note, I believe Pinkie intended to host a picnic for us.”

Now that was interesting. Sweetie Belle had never been to a proper Pinkie party. They were always held past her curfew or even bedtime. She wasn’t sure if a picnic counted, but she was sure it would be fun nonetheless.

It was quiet. There was no wind, no snowstorm, no hail to break the silence, only the occasional quiet chatter between pairs. Pinkie Pie made a few attempts to start up a larger conversation, but they invariably descended into snippy, snarky, sarcastic comments from somepony, and then they all just stopped talking before a real argument could break out.

Twilight sighed to herself. Roughly half of the subsets of this group were functional, but the full set just didn’t work. She’d expected that, yet confronting it in reality still felt like a slap to the face. To distract herself, she pulled another lump of earth out from beneath the snow outside their protective bubble of warmth and extracted the carbon from it. That she compressed into a diamond easily twice the size of Spike’s fist. After inspecting it for any significant impurities, she levitated it over to him, still hot out of the oven as he liked them.

Spike, of course, happily dug in. He slowed as he ate, and halfway through, he collapsed onto his back. The diamond, still hot enough to burn, perched precariously atop his scaly stomach. Twilight flicked it safely out into the snow with a hoof and then rubbed his belly comfortingly, paying no mind to the sharp hiss of the rapidly cooling gem.

“I don’t ever want to see a diamond again,” Spike moaned.

Seeing the concerned look Sweetie Belle was giving her, Twilight said, So he says, but he never learns. But don’t worry. He’ll be fine in a little bit.

That got a weak smile but nothing more. Rather, Sweetie Belle asked, “Didn’t that burn?”

“Hmm?” Why would it – “oh. No. Dragon blood.”

“Dragon blood?” Lyra set down her sandwich as her thoughts played out across her face and connections formed. “When we – that fire – you’re a kirin, and you’re giving me a hard time?”

That slip up raised more than a few eyebrows.

Twilight shot back, “Kirin are harmless unless angered.” Or at least they were as harmless as any other spellcasting species. “And you’ve obviously never seen one. My draconic heritage is so diluted, it’s barely worth mentioning.”

A second later, Sweetie Belle spoke up. “Wait. Kirin are pony-dragon hybrids? Don’t dragons lay eggs? How does that work?”

Now that was an intellectual conversation Twilight could sink her teeth into to abate the endless silence that kept them all prisoner. “It’s fascinating, really. The hybridization only occurs between a unicorn mare and–”

Pinkie Pie pressed a hoof against Twilight’s muzzle from below, keeping her quiet. “When a mama unicorn and a papa dragon love each other veeeery much–”

After batting away Pinkie Pie’s hoof with one of her own, Twilight said, “She’s more than old enough to know how reproduction works.”

“Well, duh, but you can’t be so clinical about it, silly.”

“It’s far too romanticized as is,” Twilight said in her own defense. “You only make it more difficult to talk about when you dance around the subject. Do you know how frustrating it was to educate myself on the subject?” What a disaster that became. “Besides, this is the perfect opportunity to teach her about DNA and hybrid vigor.”

Trixie snorted loudly enough to interrupt the debate. “‘Hybrid vigor,’ says the hybrid.”

“If it weren’t for the nirik transformation, kirin would be a strictly better species than unicorns,” Twilight countered. “And even then, the ready access to draconic magic is arguably worth–”

“Regular foaling,” Spike interjected calmly and without embarrassment. However rude, it proved Twilight’s earlier point. She’d taught him everything he needed to know, leaving him well equipped for whatever life threw at him. “Only works when the female is a pony for obvious reasons. Only unicorns and kirin work. Not sure why. Probably something to do with chromosomes or magic. Viable offspring thereafter can come from any pony tribe after a pony-pony generation.”

That promptly ground the argument to a halt when Sweetie Belle simply nodded and said, “Oh.” How much of that she actually understood would need investigating later, but enough of it clearly got through to answer her question.

And so descended the silence once more in all its terrible glory.

Twilight, well experienced at waiting out awkward silences, joined Spike in lying on her back. The Frozen North’s aurora was out in full force, a brilliant streak of greens dancing across the sky in the solar wind. Even if the company had its flaws, this was a great place for picnics and outdoor work. If she had the time, maybe she’d install an illusion hooked into a scrying spell to simulate the sky in real time on the ceilings of her lab.

It could be a collaborative project with Sweetie Belle to introduce her properly to the divination and illusion schools of magic. Given her magical history, Twilight suspected she learned best through application rather than experiment. The metamagic necessary to tie the two components together might go over her head this early into her education, but it wouldn’t hurt to hoof wave that for now. If they could pull Trixie into the project, so much the better. Nothing brought ponies together quite like magic!

“So…” Flash drawled out uncertainly. After a long delay with many blank stares, he asked, “Kind of a personal question, I guess, but what species are you exactly?”

Lyra said, “I’m a unicorn,” and then buried her face in her sandwich.

Obvious lies are obvious, and there goes another failed attempt at conversation. Twilight sighed. Friendship wasn’t supposed to be this hard, was it? Maybe they should all just go back to fighting with each other.

Twilight blinked once, then twice, then finally fought off the urge to facehoof as she sat upright.

This has to be the worst idea I’ve ever come up with. Switching to Modern Equestrian for the moment, Twilight thought, Sweetie Belle, don’t respond to this. Just throw a snowball at Lyra.

Out of the corner of her eye, Twilight saw Sweetie Belle hesitate, an unsure look upon her face. Fortunately, in some sense of the word, the expression drew no notice in the current atmosphere.

Please, Sweetie Belle. I can’t be the one to start this. It would just make Lyra and probably Trixie mad.

It only took a few moments after that. Without so much as a nod, Sweetie Belle landed the first blow, pelting Lyra in her side with a small snowball. Once the initial shock had passed, bookended by Pinkie’s gasp, Twilight followed up with her own pair of snowballs. One hit Lyra dead on, but Trixie caught the one aimed at her.

With seven snowballs rotating ominously in her magic, ready to fire, Twilight smirked at the two principle threats sitting across from her. “Round two?”

Trixie responded first, beating out Pinkie shouting, “Snowball Fight!” by a fraction of a second. Twilight laughed as the snowball deflected off her shield and nailed Flash hard enough to knock him over.

“That’s definitely cheating this time, Twilight Sparkle.”

As she shed her coat of snow, Lyra muttered, “Says the pony who caught her snowball.”

“Playground rules, then?” Six blank looks – Pinkie Pie had already vanished – greeted Trixie’s question. “Are you all serious? Am I the only one with a foalhood around here?”

Sweetie Belle glumly admitted, “Miss Cheerilee forbids us from having snowball fights.”

“Sunshine was the same way before her,” Bon Bon agreed, annoyed in equal measure.

“Never mind the teachers. Few ponies at my school want to play, much less with me.” A suggestive flexing of Spike’s claws accompanied the remark.

Twilight mumbled, “Expelled,” and left it at that.

“Grew up on the coast,” Flash added. “Only had snow on special occasions.”

After a moment, Lyra said, “Also wrong climate.”

Trixie looked at each of them in turn as they made their excuses, her eyebrows only climbing higher with every moment. “You all have failed at foalhood. Allow the Great and Powerful Trixie to educate your ignorant minds.”

Twilight knew who she would be targeting first, and she had a feeling she wasn’t alone in that assessment.

“Telekinesis only, on snow only, and within arm’s reach only. And no catching snowballs, I suppose. We’re all a little more magically coordinated than most foals.”

Half the group looked first to each other and then came to some silent consensus.

“What about us?” Bon Bon asked on behalf of the non-unicorns present.

Trixie dismissed them with a wave of a hoof and an, “Eh, whatever.”

“What about forts?” Twilight asked. She was fairly certain they were an integral part of the sport.

After a few moments to consider the matter, Lyra spoke first. “How about ten minutes to go crazy and build whatever however we want. Snow only. No enchantments.”

Twilight clicked her tongue. Still, that gave her a lot of leeway even if she lacked formal training as a structural engineer, and field repairs would be easier than constructing fortifications on the fly.

“What about teams?” Flash asked. “If we’re allowing fortresses, there’s a bit of a power imbalance here.”

Without waiting, before Flash even finished speaking, Twilight wrapped Spike and Sweetie Belle up in her hooves. They were young, undisciplined, and less powerful than the other choices, of course, but she’d take the fire-breathing dragon with good range and fair accuracy any day in this sort of situation. That utility had no compare. Sweetie Belle was just a bit of bias on her part.

Besides, Twilight had already fought both Trixie and Lyra and had come out on top. It seemed only fair she take the least experienced members of the party. Everypony else but Pinkie Pie – who didn’t count because it was Pinkie Pie – had some level of combat training.

“Thus we need a larger budget for this year’s gala. We cannot allow Equestria to have anything less than the most extravagant, most anticipated social event in the world lest our reputation suffer.”

Moon Dancer shuffled through the papers presented to her in written form, fact-checking against what Lemon Hearts had said and what little she knew about both the Grand Galloping Gala and international politics. Although Raven Inkwell, Princess Celestia’s seneschal, stood nearby taking notes for both her and the princess, she took little comfort from it. She couldn’t just ask Raven to make a decision for her without undermining the authority temporarily invested into her and maybe even having that come back to bite Twilight in the rear someday. There was really only one good decision she could make right now.

“The crown has heard your petition and will deliberate over the matter,” Moon Dancer replied. Sure, it was a lame excuse to avoid making a choice, but she didn’t have Princess Celestia’s massive cache of political and financial knowledge to fall back on. “We’ll send word when we’ve reached a decision.”

Lemon Hearts bowed – probably the most genuine one Moon Dancer had received all day – and departed. With that business done, she called for a brief recess and then retired to the private audience chamber behind the throne room. She dumped the documents she’d received since this whole ordeal had started onto a table and found a comfortable chair to collapse into.

Raven automatically set about organizing the discarded papers. “You’re doing well,” she said encouragingly.

“I guess.”

“Objectively better than Her Excellency,” Raven added.

Moon Dancer rolled her eyes. The princess had told her that story. Considering that Twilight had purposefully terrified half of the ponies in line and sent them running for their lives, that hardly meant anything. “When Princess Celestia asked me to cover for her, I thought it would be for one or two petitions at most, not the entirety of today’s open court.” This wasn’t what she’d signed up for. Not that she would refuse to help at this point.

“I’m sure whatever is keeping Her Highness is important.”

A knock on the back door, not the one leading into the throne room, made Moon Dancer groan. How did Twilight ever find time to do all her research, raise a foal, and finish the work she’d passed off to Princess Celestia with a schedule this busy? Raven, of course, promptly invited their guest to enter. Moon Dancer immediately recognized her as Spitfire, the Captain of the Wonderbolts. The very same Wonderbolts who were currently fully active in their military role. This couldn’t be good news.

“Archmage Regent,” Spitfire began, “we have a report of an unusual weather disturbance in the Frozen North.”

Moon Dancer arched her eyebrows. “The Frozen North is filled with wild weather and untamed ice magic.”

“Hence the keyword unusual.” And that was a fair point. “One of my Wonderbolts flew closer, and… Well, you’d best read it for yourself.” Spitfire passed off the letter she had tucked under her wing.

As Moon Dancer read, her brows furrowed together into a deep valley. This couldn’t possibly be right. The Frozen North had more treacherous weather than the Everfree Forest in many ways, but even its worst blizzards were just long, heavy storms.

At this moment, Princess Celestia walked into the room, returned at long last from wherever she’d been and chatting with Princess Cadance at her side about the new pegasus school the latter had been working on. The subject had noticeably caused Spitfire’s ears to perk up, but her professionalism, Moon Dancer assumed, prevented her from prying into state affairs which were none of her business.

Once Princess Celestia noticed the room’s other occupants, she broke off her conversation with Princess Cadance. “Ah, a recess, I take it? Excellent timing. Please catch me up.”

As a potential magical weather crisis had a far greater urgency, Moon Dancer put it first on the docket. “Can you verify this report for me?” It fell firmly under her purview to resolve as the archmage regent, but she lacked the level of power necessary to scry a location so far away or teleport there in minutes as Twilight would. Chained teleports sadly only worked for those who recovered magic fast enough to keep them up, and such stamina had never been something she’d possessed much interest in building. She’d never had a need for it, after all.

Princess Celestia had barely even agreed before she completed the spell with a flick of her horn. “Oh my. That is a very localized storm. Of snowballs. While certainly artificial, I doubt anypony loyal to my sister would…” Her smile thinned for a moment. “No, this is most certainly something my sister would arrange for, but not as a threat. I doubt she…” And this time she broke into melodic laughter. “Oh, Twilight.”

“Auntie?”

Princess Cadance didn’t need to ask the obvious question on everypony’s mind. With no further prompting, Princess Celestia tied an illusion spell into her scrying to show the scene to everypony present. It was certainly not what Moon Dancer had been expecting from the report she’d read. Nor, as she stared, mouth hung open, did she expect the sound of popcorn popping in Princess Celestia’s magic while Princess Cadance rearranged the room’s seating for a better view.

“Above you!” Bon Bon shouted.

Trixie’s and Lyra’s heads snapped up together. Their magic flew out and pressed against the snow, stopping the imminent collapse of the ceiling.

Lyra breathed a sigh of relief. She offered a brief, “Thanks, Bon Bon,” before returning to digging forward through the snow with Trixie. As far into the Frozen North as they were, the landscape might as well be a lake of the horrid stuff. It made traversal treacherous but perfect for sneaking around.

“Curse that Flash Sentry,” Trixie grumbled. “How did he manage to whip up this weird blizzard so fast?”

While Lyra had a few ideas herself, Bon Bon answered first. “Probably commandeered a wild blizzard in a joint effort with Pinkie. It’d be hard, but not impossible. Especially with her help.”

“Bah! I still don’t believe what you’ve told me about her.”

Lyra sympathized. She’d not really appreciated how unusual Pinkie was until after she’d lived with Bon Bon for a while, but she’d known enough about earth ponies to be confused even when they’d first met. “I think Twilight made a big fuss about it, too. I heard a rumor about her observing Pinkie a while ago.”

“Hmph. No sense of priorities. No sense of fair play, either.”

“No kidding,” Lyra muttered. “I can’t believe that cheap shot she made on our fort.”

“At least we got out uninjured,” Bon Bon said.

Lyra twisted her neck in time with Trixie to glare at her marefriend.

“Er… At least we got out without being disqualified?”

Trixie gave Bon Bon a satisfied nod. “Lyra, you got a good look at the damage to Twilight Sparkle’s fort, right? Thoughts?”

“It’s in bad shape, and the snowball blizzard will tear it apart eventually. She’s going to be busy just keeping it upright. If she doesn’t abandon it, that is.”

An downright evil grin grew on Trixie’s face. “So she’ll never see us coming. Excellent.”

Lyra greatly approved despite her seapony side’s disapproval.

“Not quite,” Bon Bon said, ruining the moment. She then simply said, “Sweetie Belle.”

Generosity’s range was long enough to give a decent warning. That could be a problem. “What if we infiltrated without thinking? It only picks up actually words, right?”

“A single stray thought would cost us our element of surprise,” Trixie began, but her frown turned thoughtful as she then mused, “But there’s no doubt that’s what they’re counting on.”

“Rightly so,” Bon Bon commented.

Trixie, however, shook her head. “Oh ye of little faith. Do not doubt the Great and Powerful Trixie! But you two, especially together, I’m not so sure of.”

Lyra felt a light blush settle onto her face. Guilty as charged. “Bon Bon and I will wait here, then.” She turned to her love. “This level of…play” – and didn’t that bring up unpleasant memories of home – “is too dangerous for you to storm Twilight’s base anyway, and I’d rather not leave you alone underneath all this snow for obvious reasons.”

Although begrudgingly and with a few muttered words too indistinct to parse, Bon Bon acquiesced to the course of action with the assistance of a few reassuring sweet nothings. She was still Lyra’s secret scary monster hunter even if she backed down from whatever tricks and traps Twilight had ready for them.

Trixie, utterly failing to read the mood, gave out further instructions as she continued digging. “You two set up a bunker and give me what artillery support you can to distract the enemy.”

Lyra sighed, and Bon Bon looked more than a little miffed at the interruption herself.

“Give me five minutes before you open fire. I still need to find Twilight Sparkle’s fort under all this snow.”

Twilight stood atop a platform of floating snow, all of which was most certainly within arm’s reach. Her job at this point consisted solely of emergency repairs. The fight with Trixie and Lyra had left it crippled, and the blizzard Flash had cooked up wasn’t helping. The added snowfall would make the tower collapse under its own weight sooner or later if she wasn’t careful. Abandoning the fort was the best course of action at this point, but she’d been outvoted by Spike and Sweetie Belle’s adamant determination to defend it to their dying breath.

Foals. Twilight shook her head in fond disapproval. But this game will never end if we can’t find each other under the snow, so I suppose it’s fine. Hopefully, Sweetie Belle can snipe Flash while I deal with any infiltrators. In truth, her chief worry was if somepony punched a hole in the foundations. The whole tower would come crashing down, and her team would lose by default when she had to teleport them out. She didn’t think that would satisfy Trixie, but Lyra and Bon Bon might outvote her on the choice of tactics.

A snowball whizzed by only a few steps in front of Twilight. It blew a sizable hole through one of the support columns.

Well. What more could be said? Hopefully, Sweetie Belle knocked Flash out soon. Lyra, Trixie, or both were getting more precise. Twilight needed this blizzard to stop so she had the time to return fire.

On that note, Twilight patched up what damage she could fix with the supply of snow available to her and then headed down to the ground floor to pick up another load, inspecting the damage to the fort along the way.

One of these walls is going to give soon. And if one did, it would all be over. I’m going to need to step outside again to perform external work.

Halfway down the last staircase, Twilight was blown into a wall by a barrage of snowballs.

“Argh! Come on! Why! Can I not! Hit! You!” Sweetie Belle flung snowball after snowball to punctuate her cries. The target of her fury, Flash Sentry, dipped in and out of cloud cover. Every shot she sent his way utterly failed to hit him. If the blizzard didn’t send them wildly off course, he dodged with a mocking ease. From time to time, he would hover in place, and although it was hard to tell, it looked a lot like he yawned when he did.

“Hey, Sweetie Belle,” Spike said. “Calm down.”

Turning on Spike, her partner, her comrade in arms, Sweetie Belle wailed, “But he’s taunting me!” much as her sister would if somepony purposefully got dirt on her hooves. “And – and – argh!”

Spike draped a comforting arm across Sweetie Belle’s shoulders. “Look, I get that you’re Mom’s student, and that’s cool and all, but trust me. Her temper is not something you want to pick up on.”

That was probably good advice. Sweetie Belle forced herself to take a step back and breathe deeply, pushing Flash Sentry from her mind. When she calmed a little, she said, “Sorry, Spike. Today has just been…very up and down.” If nothing else, a group of eight people, herself included, was really pushing how much she could tolerate from Generosity right now.

“No worries. Mom has those days all the time. Comes with the territory.”

Territory? “You mean being a kirin?”

Spike shook his head. “Nah. For one, she’s a unicorn in basically every way. Besides, kirin aren’t any more prone to anger. It’s just a lot more explosive. It’s the job. Way too much stress in her life.”

“Huh.” After a moment to absorb that, Sweetie Belle asked, “Being the archmage isn’t very fun, is it?”

“Eh, it has its moments. I know she – oh! I found Pinkie!”

Sweetie Belle rushed to follow Spike’s claw out into the tundra. They’d been looking for her since the game began. “Where?”

“See that ball of snow moving out there?”

“I don’t… Oh!” Through the blizzard and the narrow arrowslit, it was nearly impossible to spot her, but Sweetie Belle found the tiny patch of pink moving against the endless sea of white. “Keep an eye on Flash Sentry for me.”

“Sure thing.”

Sweetie Belle fired shot after shot in the general direction of her new target, her aim improving with every try. There was no risk of running out of ammo with the storm outside constantly raining more down at her. But once she started hitting in the correct neighborhood, the futility of her attempts became clear. Pinkie simply dipped out of sight whenever a snowball should have hit her.

Doesn’t Pinkie have a Pinkie Sense for falling objects? Upon reflection, Sweetie Belle felt certain she did. “Spike, I think Pinkie is a lost cause. Keep an eye on her for Archmage Twilight. I’ll focus on Flash Sentry.”

“Hmm… All right, sounds good.” Spike pointed up into the sky this time. “Flash hasn’t moved much. He’s still hovering under the bare patch of sky in the storm.”

“That seems suspicious.” Sweetie Belle gnawed on her lip as she resumed fire on Flash. She got a small smile when she tore the tiny cloud he had been resting on to pieces. It didn’t hit him, but it was about sending a message.

Spike promptly agreed. “If anything Uncle Shining has taught me is accurate, he’s obviously a distraction for Pinkie. He might just be hoping we get into a melee with his team in the eye of the storm, but I’ll try to figure out what they’re up to.”

Stomping a hoof to the floor, Sweetie Belle let out another frustrated scream. “I almost had him that time!” Then she processed what Spike had said. “Sure. Just signal Archmage Twilight if needed.”

“You know, you can just call her Twilight.”

Sweetie Belle shook her head. “I couldn’t do that.” She’d not even come close to earning that level of familiarity. Rarity would – well, Rarity had taken to doing so, but who knew what that was about.

Spike slapped a hand to his head. “Wow, déjà vu.” He made no further explanation than that even when asked, merely returning his full focus to the game.

Sometime later, Spike asked an odd question. “Hey, Sweetie Belle? How strong is Pinkie?”

“How strong?” Sweetie Belle turned her attention away from Flash momentarily. “Well, she is an earth pony, so very strong. Why do you ask?”

“Well, it’s just, she’s rolling that huge ball of snow around like it’s nothing.”

Spike had a point, even if Sweetie Belle didn’t see the point of it. “And?”

“Yeah, that’s the thing. What’s she going to do with it?”

Sweetie Belle froze. What is she going to do with it? “Do you think–”

“She’s going to throw it at us,” Spike finished in his thoughts. A moment later, he realized what he’d done and continued, “Yeah, pretty sure. And she’s been missing the entire game before I spotted her. How many do you think she has?”

An uneasy feeling crawled up Sweetie Belle’s spine. “Maybe Archmage Twilight had a point about leaving – oh no!”

“What’s up?”

“Trixie just took her out!”

“What?” Spike cried, spinning in place toward Sweetie Belle. “How did she sneak up on you?”

“I have no idea, but we need to brainstorm now. What do we do? Trixie is heading up here.”

“The tower’s linear. We can ambush her like she did Mom.”

“Ehem.” Trixie faked a cough in her thoughts. “Sweetie Belle, the Great and Powerful Trixie has slain Twilight Sparkle. You have two choices before you. You may join me and perhaps have a small chance at victory, or you can perish here. I have no need of this fortress…” The suggestion was clear.

“Horseapples!”

Spike faked a scandalized gasp.

“Oh, ha ha,” Sweetie Belle said dryly. “Trixie just threatened to destroy the tower. She wants us to join her.”

“You have one minute. Send Spike down alone to discuss the terms.”

“And apparently we only have a minute for you to go down alone,” Sweetie Belle added.

Eyes widening, Spike bolted for the stairs. It was a long climb down, and the snow made for treacherous footing.

“Wait!”

Spike halted at the top step and turned back to Sweetie Belle.

“We’re probably going to lose either way.” However disappointing to think, it was the truth. “But we can make sure Trixie loses, too.”

Lips curling into a smirk, Spike said, “Revenge. I like it. How?”

It was simple. “Keep her here.”

Spike needed no further prompting. One name ran through his thoughts. “Pinkie.”

Lyra’s jaw dropped. She rubbed her eyes. She pinched herself with her magic.

No, she was not dreaming.

A giant snowball, easily three ponies in diameter – and thus mostly not within arm’s reach – flew through the air from off in the distance. When it collided with Twilight’s fort, it ripped a gaping hole open in its side, causing irreparable damage to the structure. The tower fell in on itself in slow motion, crumbling piece by piece, but that was not enough for the mystery assailant.

Another giant snowball impacted the fort. And another. And another.

One hit near the very top of the tower and sailed onward right through it, a small patch of blue plastered against the near side when it emerged from the structure. Two small dots, one purple and one white, fell out of the tower in its wake on a collision course with the ground. Lyra prepared to teleport to their rescue, but it appeared Twilight had everything well in hoof.

Lyra turned her attention back to the skies. Her mission had long since changed from dealing structural damage to joining the sniping attempt on Flash. However, he was no longer anywhere to be seen.

But he was somewhere to be heard.

“Hello, friend.”

Author's Notes:

Behold! A shameless promotion for my Patreon.

---

Revision Notes - July 10th (2020)

Chapter Fifteen - The Wayward Students

“The experiment was a disaster. It worked, technically speaking, but the test subject is dead. It likely wouldn’t have been fatal for a larger animal, such as a pony, but the consequences… I would like to take a moment to thank my mentor for her scoldings and my own student for sticking her nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

And that brought the experiment to a close. It might become necessary to reopen it in the future, but for now, there were other possible avenues to explore.

By mutual unspoken consent, neither Twilight nor Luna brought up last night as the remainder of the former’s dreamwarming party finally played out. When the group finished their interrupted game of diplomacy and conquest, Twilight took a respectable second place while Berry Punch, the last person she’d expected, won the game.

Once they’d then put all the pieces back into the box, Twilight duplicated the game. It took her but a few minutes to add a game closet to her tower, where she put the copy. Alone on the shelves, it looked rather lonely. She’d need to fill the room out sometime soon. It’d certainly be a lot easier to accomplish than her library.

Time passed, and Twilight made the mistake of reminding Ember and Autumn that she’d installed a tavern upstairs. She felt Luna’s pain as she realized too late that letting them go pick up drinks alone had only one outcome. When she teleported up there after them, she found them already in the process of burning it down while fighting each other. She conjured up a pair of windows in the bar just so she could fling them out of her tower properly. As she did, she shrieked, “Take it outside!” at the grinning and laughing duo.

It was a mild blessing that the tavern hadn’t been completely destroyed. It seemed Ember and Autumn had kept their scuffle more on the wrestling and fire end of the spectrum this time, rather than using chairs and tables as improvised weapons. That likely had more to do with the continued presence of pain in this dreamscape rather than any courtesy, but Twilight would take what she could get. She repaired what she needed to and left the autonomous staff to put everything back in its proper place.

Soon enough, as had become routine, her guests dropped out one by one until Twilight found herself with only Luna for company while she slept. She had no idea what to say after last night, so it was fortunate that Luna took the lead. Once they’d holed themselves up in the repaired tavern at their usual table with mugs of delicious cider, Luna broached a very different subject than she’d expected.

“I fully lost Loyalty and then Laughter last night.”

Twilight blinked, surprised, and then, however unnecessarily, slowly nodded.

“Did you at least hoof them out to worthy successors?” When Twilight’s eye twitched, Luna’s narrowed in turn. “What vagabonds did you give my Elements to?”

“I don’t even know where to begin.”

It was somewhat ironic that Luna was the only pony she could complain to. Twilight had to keep a strong front up in the waking world when around the bearers, her family, and especially Celestia. Sunset wanted nothing to do with her. Moon Dancer might lend a sympathetic ear, but she had enough trouble managing Celestia. Who did that leave? Just Luna.

“I think there might be something wrong with the Elements,” Twilight admitted. It’d been a worry she’d dismissed at first, but now she had a full set of misfits, herself included. “Honesty went to a pony who faked her own death, snuck into the country, and has lived her life since under an assumed identity and species.”

Luna had nothing to say to that and, visibly stunned, made no attempt to stop Twilight from continuing.

“Loyalty went to a persistent pest.” Saying much more than that, unfortunately, would probably reveal Flash’s identity with a little digging. “Laughter went to the biggest narcissist I’ve ever met. I will admit, however, she’s also the best showpony I’ve ever met, so that one sort of makes sense.”

For the longest time, Luna said nothing. Brief glimpses of her turning thoughts played across her face in frowns and furrowed brows rather than the expected laughter and gleeful smiles.

That worried Twilight far more. “What is it?” she pressed.

Luna hummed lowly and with worry. She then went on to say, “This is most troubling. It is not solely my banishment that the Elements of Harmony maintain.”

A tiny little piece of information Twilight had stumbled upon at the beginning of all this leapt to the forefront of her mind. “Discord.” The name escaped her lips as a whisper of dread. Civilization hadn’t yet fully recovered from his last advent.

“Indeed,” Luna said solemnly. “As his new keeper, I highly suggest you examine his seal as soon as possible. If my sister’s misuse of the Elements permanently damaged them, we may have a larger problem than our own issues.”

Deep down, some part of Twilight hoped that was the case, because that would get Luna and Celestia to work together, but the sane and thankfully dominant majority of her mind thought otherwise. “I don’t suppose you or I can wake me right now?”

“Unfortunately not. I currently lack the power, and teaching you the greater secrets of dreamwalking to enable such a feat would take far longer than simply allowing you to awaken naturally.”

Unfortunate indeed, yet Twilight’s eyes shined bright with interest. Whether that had been an intentional slip or not hardly mattered. “That can be taught?” She’d assumed not since she’d never heard of dreamwalking, an absurdly useful skill, before discovering Luna’s existence.

Luna’s pensive frown was an answer in and of itself, but she said, “In theory, yes. I’ve had no success doing so in the past, but I’ve not tried in centuries, and science marches on. ’Tis not something to learn whilst dreaming, however.”

“Trying to tempt me?”

“Nay. We have already made our wager.” With unshakable confidence, Luna added, “I have no need of such tricks.”

Twilight wished she felt such surety. But that did bring to mind something she needed to ask about. “Speaking of our wager, we forgot to address what happens to the Elements and their bearers.”

Surprisingly, after a long sip of her cider, Luna said, “Nothing. I have no reasonable way to keep them from you, and they are an invaluable tool that has long lain unused.”

“You’re just going to trust me with them?” Twilight found that very hard to believe even if Luna had a point. She had Magic; there was no keeping the Elements from her while she yet lived.

“Are you not a mare of your word?”

Twilight bristled as she replied, “I am.”

“Then when I triumph over you and my sister, I needn’t worry about the Elements.”

“That’s it?”

Luna nodded. “That’s it.”

Although Twilight eyed Luna suspiciously, Luna just smirked and knocked back her mug of cider. There had to be something more to it than that, but for the life of her – or maybe five others – Twilight couldn’t think of what. Luna certainly wasn’t telling and indeed only looked more amused for the distrust she received like she was in on some great joke that had flown over Twilight’s head.

Cautiously, Twilight asked, “Would you be willing to add that as an official term of our bargain?”

“On one condition. I doubt you would stoop to such methods, but neither of us will bring harm upon a bearer without just cause nor allow it to occur if reasonably preventable.”

“In other words,” Twilight began, “I have to make do with who I have?”

Luna nodded.

She’d not given it any serious consideration, but Twilight did have to admit the thought of rolling the dice again with Loyalty had crossed her mind. With all the others, she could at least envisage what a friendship with them extending past the solstice might look like, but with Flash, she had no idea. Still, she would find a way. Even if she was willing to kill a pony who’d merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time, Celestia wouldn’t want such sacrifices made in her name. Magic would probably disown Twilight, too, if she followed through, and the other bearers wouldn’t ever trust her again. Not that it would matter if she lost Magic, but still.

Besides, if there was even the slightest chance that something was wrong with the Elements, it would hardly do to put them through that sort of stress test. The last thing the world needed was Discord unleashed.

Twilight extended a hoof. “Deal.”

Nodding, Luna tapped her own hoof to Twilight’s, and they shook on it.

“You do realize I am a bearer as well, right?”

“Of course,” Luna replied. “If Equestria’s archmage somehow got in over her head, I would, naturally, leap to her defense regardless. It would be a heavy blow for my kingdom and my reign if she were hurt.”

That was a fair point, Twilight had to admit.

“Twilight, my sister may put us at odds, but what other reason do we have to quarrel?”

After a few moments, Twilight reluctantly replied, “None in particular,” last night notwithstanding. “Policy, perhaps, but we’ve yet to speak on such matters.”

“Is it not your policy to smash everything my sister points you at?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “It’s a little more nuanced than that.”

“Aha! You do not deny the thrust of it. What I would have given to have you at my disposal a thousand years ago.”

Unable to help herself, Twilight rolled her eyes again and turned her attention to the cider she’d barely touched since she’d first sat down. Finding it warm, she cast a spell to chill it once more and then took a long drink. There would be another time to discuss such things.

For now, Twilight had a minor revelation she felt best to get out of the way. “You should know my protégé has Generosity.” She didn’t see any need to hide that information now that the deal had been struck. If the withholding of information was going to upset Luna, better to let her get over it now while she couldn’t hurt Sweetie Belle.

But Luna merely chuckled. “The one you threatened to destroy me over? Given the timing and your history, I imagined it was that or Kindness.”

While that didn’t do Sweetie Belle’s magical talents proper justice, Twilight couldn’t fault the guesswork or the conclusion.

“But if we’re to make such confessions, would the bearer of Laughter happen to be the Great and Powerful Trixie?”

Twilight froze, and a moment later, she realized that was all the answer Luna needed. “How?”

“A clue here and a whisper there. She may have cast me aside in a fit of pique, but I still like to keep tabs on my own student. Certainly, if she got into a fight with the archmage, word would get back to me.”

It took a full second for that information to parse in its entirety.

Twilight banged her head against the table.

“I should ask Celestia for advice. But I can’t do that! If she finds out about this, she’ll know just how badly I screwed up and recall me back to Canterlot. I’m not going to let her give up like that. There’s always mind magic. A few – no, I can’t do that either. The Elements would object. And it’d be wrong. I made a deal, and I have to live with it. I just have to make this work. I’m sure I can. She’s not even on good terms with her right now. Granted, neither am I, but how hard could fixing that be? It’ll be fine. It’ll all be fine.”

Despite trying and burying his head under his pillow, Spike couldn’t get back to sleep with Twilight pacing and rambling on about whatever in the background. He sat up and cried, “Some people are trying to–”

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Twilight said. It seemed she didn’t understand why that was so. “I’m heading out to run a few errands. Do you need me to pick up anything while I’m at it?”

“A vacuum flask filled from the Stream of Silence,” Spike muttered.

Then just to prove Twilight wasn’t really listening, she said, “Sure, no problem. You’re in charge while I’m gone.” She then left without missing a beat, practically slamming the door behind her in her haste.

The noise finally managed to rouse Sweetie Belle. She groaned and rolled to hang partially over the side of the cloud she was using as a makeshift bed. One hoof came up to rub at her eyes while the other covered a yawn. “What’s going on?” she asked drowsily.

“I’m not sure.” Even as the fog covering his own thoughts subsided, Spike found no answers. He did recall one thing, however. “But did you hear? She left me in charge.”

“Okay.” Sweetie Belle yawned and rolled fully back into bed.

Spike harrumphed. No respect. Still, he was tired, too, and made the executive decision to pursue more sleep as well.

In one of the many anecdotes Princess Celestia had delivered during the time they’d spent alone together, Moon Dancer had learned that the Royal Guard traditionally consisted of two distinct divisions. Its current incarnation consisted entirely of the Day Guard, those ponies whose loyalty began and ended with the princess herself. In theory, a Night Guard existed as well, but buried under more bureaucracy than a mare could shake a stick at, it’d become defunct in every way that mattered not long after their princess’s banishment.

Regardless, there was, it should be noted, no such thing as the Evening Guard.

Two mares stumbled into Twilight’s office, clearly freshly returned from some harrowing experience. One of them bore a vague resemblance to Twilight through her coloration. The other was as tall as any stallion and looked physically stronger than a unicorn had any right to be. Moon Dancer did her best not to stare at the mare’s broken horn nor the scar over her eye.

“Evening Guard reporting in, Your Excellency,” the tall mare said. “Mission accomplished.”

After a few seconds to process what she was staring at, Moon Dancer simply nodded slowly. She’d seen stranger things while filling in for Twilight.

“Starlight has some thaumic burns, and I obviously need another polymorph.”

Oh, that was brilliant! If the tall mare could still channel magic, then a unicorn to unicorn transformation could provide her with an intact horn for spellcasting. A full polymorph was a bit overkill, but Moon Dancer supposed it did come with other benefits.

“I think I can do that.” It’d been a while since Moon Dancer had cast anything that complex, but she should only need to brush up on her memory of the spell. She knew Twilight had a book with it somewhere in her office. It took her a little while to find it, but find it she did. “Right, then. Hold still. This will take a moment.”

Moon Dancer cast the unfamiliar magic with care. If she did something wrong, the tall mare had a fair chance of dying. When she finished constructing the spellform, she checked her work over thrice before nodding to herself. So satisfied, she let it take effect. The mare in front of her underwent nearly an identity transformation, the only change being the now complete horn upon her head. It lit up immediately, proving its functionality.

And then Moon Dancer flew into the air and hung there. Her racing heart skipped when she felt a warning pressure on her horn.

“You’re the worst impostor I’ve ever dealt with,” the tall mare said.

This was just like when Moon Dancer had first met Twilight but a thousand times worse. She’d told Twilight she wasn’t the adventuring type, and now she knew it for sure.

“Where is the real Twilight Sparkle?”

The other mare – Starlight, if Moon Dancer recalled correctly – had already moved to the door. The room had too many security wards for sound to pass through it, but now any avenue of escape was blocked as well.

Somehow, Moon Dancer managed to coherently answer the question posed to her. “I don’t know. She never told me where she went. I’m just filling in for her. Everypony knows that.”

By some unspoken communication, Starlight slipped out the door.

“Do you know what happened to the last pony I caught trying to harm Her Excellency?”

Moon Dancer was sure it was something suitably terrible and really didn’t need an answer. She did her best not to pay attention to what her captor said and spent her time imagining scolding Twilight for not telling her about whoever these two mares were.

Eventually, Starlight returned. She walked casually through the door with a faint glow at the tip of her horn but used a hoof to close it behind her. “Put her down,” she said. Whatever magic she’d been channeling – probably an identification spellform – faded away. “She checks out.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I found Esp. Twilight is out on business until the solstice. Oh, and apparently, she just looks like that.”

“Huh.” The tall mare set Moon Dancer down gently, her posture becoming much more formal in the process. “Sorry about that, Ma’am. I owe Her Excellency a lot.”

Although she’d appreciated none of that experience, Moon Dancer gingerly sat herself back down on her chair and said, “It’s fine. No harm done.” Or she hoped not, at least. She still felt the phantom grip of magic on her horn. “Now who are you two?”

“Tempest Shadow,” the tall mare said. “Captain of the Evening Guard.”

Starlight rolled her eyes. “I’m Starlight Glimmer.” With a wince, she lit her horn just long enough to pull a very thick folder from one of Twilight’s cabinets. She let it land onto the desk in front of Moon Dancer with a loud thump. “That’s my file.”

Skimming over it, Moon Dancer found it hard to believe the sheer number of crimes that could be brought against Starlight. It was almost laughable how long she’d be in jail if anypony ever pressed charges. If rumor were true, she might even warrant a place in the castle gardens as a statue.

A little embarrassed now, Starlight continued, “Twilight gave me a second chance, and I promised not to blow it. All of us are like that, the ‘captain’ here included.”

Tempest snorted but said nothing.

“It’s kind of like our oath of service,” Starlight continued. “We call ourselves the Evening Guard. Some of us take it more seriously than others.” She nudged Tempest with an elbow, who made no response. “Twilight usually delegates through the two of us. We handle the ‘small stuff’ for her.”

Everypony heard those air quotes. All things considered, the Archmage of Equestria, personal student of the Alicorn of the Sun, may have some somewhat understandable misconceptions about scale.

“Oh! Wait a second, I think Twilight told me about you. She, uh, didn’t use the term Evening Guard.”

“Part of why we immediately suspected you,” Tempest said. “We do not recognize Her Excellency by something so deceptive as appearance.”

Starlight added her own two bits at that. “Meaning sometimes she forgets to cancel a spell that changes her appearance. She’s forgetful like that.”

Moon Dancer buried a smile beneath a hoof while Tempest glared at Starlight. She certainly sympathized with Twilight, having made such mistakes herself, but it was still amusing. “I thought you weren’t due to return for at least another moon.”

“A fortunate turn allowed us to finish our mission early,” Tempest explained. “We returned first to report in and then seek medical treatment.”

That reminded Moon Dancer that Starlight, at least, had thaumic burns that needed care. “Of course,” she said. That kind of injury only came from pushing too much magic through one’s horn. Starlight must be exhausted. “I’ll not keep you. I’m glad you’re here, however. I could really use a reliable, specialized task force for magical disturbances.”

“And you shall have it.”

With that parting remark from Tempest, Moon Dancer waved them off to go visit the hospital. It was more than a little frustrating when, not more than a few minutes later instead of a few minutes prior, Twilight teleported straight into the room without warning.

“Ah, good, you’re here,” Twilight said. “I need you to keep Celestia away from the garden for…an hour should do it. Don’t tell her I’m here. Thanks.”

And then Twilight teleported out of the room before Moon Dancer had a chance to say a word in response.

Shining gulped. Not two steps away, his sister glared at him without saying a word. She’d hadn’t said a word since she’d teleported right in front of him out of nowhere. The only hope he had was the lack of a blazing fire indicative of her fury instead of mere anger.

“Twily, do you remember how I got my cutie mark?”

She remained in absolute silence, unmoved.

“When you were really little, our family went out on a picnic. Mom and Dad left you under my protection. Suddenly, forty moon cultists from the future leapt out of the trees.”

Rather flatly, the humor doing nothing to improve her mood, Twilight said, “That’s even less believable than the last time you tried to tell that story.”

Shining nervously ran a hoof through his mane. “I just want to protect you, Twily.” Internally, he swore he would find a way to put Flash on latrine duty for the rest of his career for only lasting a single day before getting caught.

The silence that fell stifled all who landed within its reach. Even the onlookers in the corridor watched them with a wary eye and not a word of gossip.

“You are very lucky you married Cadance.”

Yes, Shining was, but the way Twilight said that made him markedly terrified for his stallionhood’s well-being.

“Keep everyone out of the garden for the next hour. And do try to be subtle about it.”

Shining gulped, and Twilight teleported away before he could promise to do so. As far as revenge went, he’d gotten off very lightly. He hoped. Maybe the worst was yet to come. Perhaps he should practice his shield spells a little longer each day.

Regardless, Shining had to make up some story quick. Had one of the menagerie’s more skittish and evasive animals got loose and escaped into the garden? How terrible! They needed to catch it quickly, and having a bunch of uninvolved ponies milling about would just get in the way.

Observing from a cloud above, Twilight waited until the gardens had emptied to teleport back down to the ground. She doubted this would take long, which was a shame, really, because it so obligingly distracted her from the matter of Trixie. As much as she had the ability to multitask, so too did she have the ability to focus on one thing to the exclusion of all else.

Discord was a complicated mess of body parts in the vague shape of a serpent, practically the textbook definition of a transformation spell gone wrong. No two pieces came from the same species. One arm was a lion’s, the opposite, a griffon’s. One leg, a lizard’s, the other, a goat’s. Even his wings operated differently. Using them to fly must have been a nightmare. As a statue, he’d curled his long tail around a pillar from who knew where and posed dramatically as though he were about to sing.

I really need to ask Celestia how she and Luna managed to petrify Discord like this. Was he even trying to defend himself? That had troubling implications, if not, unless he’d really been just that mad or arrogant.

Nevertheless, Twilight approached Discord with her horn at the ready. She’d done this once years ago out of curiosity and made no progress, but where before she’d found resistance and rejection, she now slipped past the protections against magical intrusion with welcomed ease. The Elements kept him imprisoned and, just as importantly, isolated. However, it seemed they also recognized her as his new chief warden and allowed her to inspect the oubliette they’d constructed about him.

Twilight almost laughed at how simple it was. It really is just a petrification spell. No more special than what a cockatrice could inflict. Granted, the Elements had layered enough protections around it and supplied such sheer, raw, continuous power that Celestia felt comfortable leaving Discord out in the open as a decoration, but at its core, he might as well have lost to one of his least chimeric creations.

So how well is everything holding up…

Starting from the petrification, Twilight worked outward, examining the network of spells keeping Discord sealed away from the world. As far as she knew, everything looked in order. The flow of power maintaining them remained constant. None of the protections had degraded in construction. She didn’t know how they all worked nor even what they all were, but identifying faulty spells was an art she’d long mastered. If some had already vanished or if the energy supplying them had diminished, only Celestia or Luna would have the knowledge necessary to tell her. As she hadn’t gone to the trouble of keeping Celestia out of the loop only to bring her in now, it would have to be Luna Twilight compared notes with.

Fortunately, duplicating a spell was far easier than understanding it. After a thorough examination of the magics surrounding Discord to, with a little magical assistance, commit them to memory, Twilight cast a spell to wake her shortly. She then put herself to sleep in the hope that Luna would notice her dreaming.

The bite of the Frozen North nipped at Sweetie Belle beneath her coat. Only now noticing that her warming magic had faded away, she recast it. She could see why the archmage had chosen this place to build her secret lab. Nopony would ever find it. Who would ever want to come out here to search for it? The empty tundra spanned nearly as much space as half of Equestria!

Not far away, Trixie practiced the great spells she used as stage magic to amuse ponies. She mostly stuck with transmutations and grand illusions, although other schools of magic made their appearances from time to time. Regardless of any other deficiencies of her character, nopony could deny that she had talent.

Sweetie Belle watched on, trying to divine some understanding of the showpony. She knew Trixie had attended Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. She knew Trixie had once tried to form some manner of connection with Archmage Twilight and felt wronged over the rejection. She suspected Trixie had found few, if any, lasting friends on her travels. She knew Trixie had a reputation for explosions.

A frown tugged at the corners of Sweetie Belle’s mouth. She’d not yet seen anything blow up, but she relocated a few steps further away anyway, just in case, and constructed a small shield made of snow to settle behind.

Now, what else did she know? She knew Trixie liked to boast. She knew Trixie loved adoration. She didn’t know why, but she could guess Trixie wanted attention. Really, Trixie kind of reminded her of Rainbow Dash. If the latter hadn’t decided to settle down in Ponyville, nevermind recent developments, she’d even be an entertainer as well as part of the Wonderbolts. That at least gave Sweetie Belle somepony to ask for advice if needed.

“The least you could do is applaud.”

Sweetie Belle’s head snapped toward the voice, but she only found snow. A hoof tapped her opposite shoulder, but nopony was there. She jumped to her hooves with a muted shriek.

“Or do you, too, believe yourself above common courtesies?”

While she’d suspected, that confirmed it. Sweetie Belle stamped her hoof on the snow and said, “Trixie–” This, as it happened, proved unwise. The fresh powder of last night’s snowfall had yet to settle, and she sank in far enough to tumble over in a graceless display despite the water walking enchantment Lyra had placed on her earlier. At least she wasn’t covered in tree sap. Remembering the trick Inde – the archmage had used during the stampede, she turned her telekinesis onto herself to lift herself back onto her hooves.

Trixie appeared as a swirl of snow on the wind. In no more time than it took to blink, her form dissolved in the distance from head to hooves and rebuilt itself in reverse on the opposite side of Sweetie Belle’s little shelter. If nothing else could be said about her, she was a true master of illusions.

“Twilight Sparkle must be a worse teacher than I thought. Did you honestly expect me not to notice you? Before or after you built…” Trixie cast an askance glance down at the impromptu cover between them. “–whatever this is suppose to be.”

“Not particularly,” Sweetie Belle replied with as much dignity as she could muster after embarrassing herself. As she brushed snow off her coat, she was delighted to discover the water walking spell let it slide right off of her without any lingering meltwater from her body heat. “I just needed a buffer against the wind.” It was a lie, but the truth would only give offense.

Trixie harrumphed regardless. “Well?” Both voice and body revealed how short her patience was. “What do you want?”

“Why do you hate Archmage Twilight?”

“Lots of reasons. Why do you like her?”

“Lots of reasons,” Sweetie Belle retorted with as little bite or sarcasm as she could manage. “She helps ponies everywhere. She even saved me personally. She’s really nice. She came from nowhere with nothing but hard work. She’s the greatest spellcaster in modern history. She–”

Sweetie Belle could have gone on, but Trixie cut her off. “Enough. You know nothing about Twilight Sparkle. She helps Princess Celestia help ponies she couldn’t care less about. If she’s ever been nice in her life, I’ve never seen it. And she most certainly didn’t come from nowhere. She had the royal family’s attention long before she could read.”

However tempting it was to ask after that last point, Sweetie Belle smirked and smugly sung, “You didn’t deny that she’s the greatest spellcaster.”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie has not yet settled that question with her! Our duel in Ponyville proved nothing. When we fight with our full powers, I will prove who the more capable sorceress really is.”

Sweetie Belle made a long, “Oh,” of understanding. Rarity had told her stories of courtly drama with ponies like this. “You’re jealous.”

Hackles raised immediately. “Trixie is not jealous. She is betrayed. Passed over!”

“By who?”

“Who is none of your concern.”

Nonetheless, Sweetie Belle pressed, “Princess Celestia?”

“Of course not,” Trixie replied with no less heat than before. “What was there to betray? Before yesterday, the only words she had for me were admonishments for causing the same damage her precious Twilight Sparkle did.”

Okay, maybe this is more complicated than a little jealousy. But Sweetie Belle hadn’t mediated dozens of Apple Bloom and Scootaloo’s spats without learning a thing or two. This one might be a bit more complex, but the basic principles were the same. “I do recall Archmage Twilight mentioning her experiments tended to, well, explode when she was young. But she learned–”

“–because she had everything levitated to her on a silver platter!” A harsh sound more akin to a bray than a neigh passed Trixie’s lips. “That Twilight Sparkle lived a privileged life free of real consequences is not news. Trixie does not care.”

Sweetie Belle wondered if Honesty would even bother responding to that one if Lyra were here.

“Trixie worked for everything she has. Trixie had nothing given to her which she didn’t earn. Trixie doesn’t even know who her father is, much less have a princess to foalsit her. Then when Trixie finally proved herself through tireless dedication, she found out that she was only ever a spare. A spare! Do not try to convince Trixie the world is fair, you naive foal, especially not when it has seen fit to grant you the next silver spoon.”

To top off the rant, Trixie conjured a silver spoon and stuck it into Sweetie Belle’s mouth. Only her warming enchantment kept it from freezing to her lips or tongue.

Sweetie Belle took the spoon in her magic and carefully dispelled it once she’d, just in case, moved it a few hooves away. She knew Trixie could have layered another spell underneath the conjuration if she felt particularly spiteful and didn’t want that anywhere near her.

“So,” Sweetie Belle began, “that’s why you hate Archmage Twilight?” It was certainly a far murkier matter to sort through than the petty arguments her friends got into.

Surprisingly, Trixie said, “No,” with a far more even temperament than she had any right to after all that. She then added, “That’s why I resent her.”

“Oh…” What precisely was the difference? Sweetie Belle wasn’t entirely sure she had the life experiences necessary to understand. Not that she lacked the will to try. “Then why do you hate her?” She’d asked the question before, but maybe now that Trixie had opened up a little, she’d get a proper answer.

“’Tis a long and bitter tale. There was a time in her life when Princess Celestia actively arranged for her to make friends.” Trixie’s eyes dropped to Generosity. “For obvious reasons, now. Somehow I wound up here still.” Her frown deepened. “Regardless, all she remembers about me are my worst failures. That should suffice to inform you of the quality of our interactions.”

Despite the unflattering image that painted, it did sound similar to how the archmage had described herself as a foal. Sweetie Belle couldn’t argue that particular point, but neither did she need to. The past was the past. Trixie and the archmage were different mares now than the fillies they must have been when they’d known each other.

What would Rarity say in this situation? Sweetie Belle did her best to channel her sister in both poise and speech. “Never look to the past, darling. It’s full of embarrassments. Simply dreadful rags, those.”

Trixie slowly arched an eyebrow in silence.

A weak chuckle escaped Sweetie Belle alongside a blush nopony could miss beneath her coat. “That’s what my sister would say, I think. Maybe. Then again, she did have that thing about the derby.”

“The derby? You had those too?”

It was off topic, and Sweetie Belle suspected it was an excuse to talk about literally anything else, but Trixie had an actual glint of interest in her eye for the first time ever. Sweetie Belle would give her a reprieve for now to cool down. “Uh-huh. We had a few, let’s say, technical difficulties, but my cart won the ribbon for most traditional!”

“Most traditional? That’s not a prize we had in Canterlot. We had first place, a technical award, and–” Trixie snickered with a dark look about her. “–Pink Hearts.”

Hesitantly, Sweetie Belle asked, “Pink Hearts of Courage?”

“Let the Great and Powerful Trixie regale you with the tale of how she achieved victory through spectacular feats of magic.”

Trixie’s horn lit up, and an illusion of what Sweetie Belle really hoped wasn’t her derby cart appeared between them. The admittedly sleek vehicle looked like it could cut through air as easily as it could the competition. The front mounted cannons would fry anything in the way while what looked like an oil slick or possibly caltrops protected the rear. The spikes attached to the wheels were just overkill. And those were just the readily apparent features! Who knew what other enchantments it had on it.

“The race from Canterlot to the base of Mount Canterhorn is long and treacherous. Perils both mundane and magical await all those who dare compete. Only the most daring and bold survive. This is the tale of Trixie and the Phantom Fire.”

Luna probed every layer of Discord’s prison in exacting detail. Each and every fragment she checked against her own ancient notes. She left no spellform unexamined, no flux of power unanalyzed. Twilight had done her absolute best to recreate it in its entirety inside her dreamscape. While she was confident she’d implemented the full suite of spells within a reasonable margin of error, they worked only because she believed they would. This was her world. If she wanted two plus two to equal five, she could make that happen.

But despite Twilight’s incomplete understanding of Discord’s prison, Luna could still potentially diagnose any problems. The magics involved didn’t have to correspond to any real physical process to study them. Experiments would be worthless, sure, but they weren’t here to reverse engineer the Elements. They just wanted to check if the magic holding Discord retained the correct form.

Even so, Twilight couldn’t bury the worry making her chest feel slightly tighter than normal. What if she’d over or underestimated how much power went into each spell? What if she’d made a mistake? What if she’d made a mistake by not making a mistake? A false positive on one of Luna’s error inspections they could laugh off later over drinks, but a false negative could let disaster creep up on them unnoticed.

“Well,” Luna began as the glow of her horn faded, “if I’d ever doubted your ability to imprison me if provided with enough power, this would dash such sentiments.”

Twilight held back her sigh of relief. It was too soon for that. “It’s working properly?”

“This is cast as I recorded it.” Luna snapped her notebook shut. “Properly? Who could say? I understand it no better than I do banishment, which is to say nearly not at all. Furthermore, I would need to examine Discord myself to know if you’ve unconsciously corrected anything. I, at least, find it much more difficult to recreate an incorrect spell than a correct one.”

Indeed, that was what had Twilight worried.

“That said, you are his gaoler now, and you are not the archmage without reason. If you again find nothing amiss once you awaken, then I doubt his prison will fail while the Elements endure. Do not abuse them, and all should be well.”

This time Twilight did allow herself to breathe out and let the tension flow from her with the air. Those were the words she’d needed to hear. In all honesty, she hadn’t expected any others, but it was Discord. A little tying herself up into knots was both expected and appropriate.

Now she could get back to freaking out about Trixie.

“Your Majesty, we found a Lulamoon.”

Already? It was only the next day. Chrysalis hadn’t even left Princess Luna’s workshop yet! Her hive worked fast, naturally. They had the numbers and networking necessary for such distributed tasks. But this was too easy. She reached out over the hivemind back to the changeling who, in eagerness, had leapt through protocol to inform her directly. “How sure are you it’s not a trap?”

Chrysalis first received a vague feeling of uncertainty in answer before a verbal reply. “There’s a Trixie Lulamoon scheduled to perform a magic act at the Summer Sun Celebration in Ponyville.”

Coincidence was an old enemy Chrysalis watched with a wary eye and never let out of sight. “Continue your investigations with caution. If this Trixie is the real thing” – as close as one could get to it in Princess Luna’s absence – “she’ll be able to give me a good fight.” Sensing that the warning had properly sunk in, she continued, “Inform me directly the moment you find anything. And warn the archmage.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

Another mental voice chimed in a few moments later once her orders had spread. “Trixie and the archmage formally dueled publicly two days ago during a performance. They seem to have a history together. The archmage won and departed amicably.”

A third changeling, the last one in Ponyville, added, “Trixie spent most of the next day at the Prancing Pony performing tricks for drink.” Beneath the words in the hivemind was the understanding that she’d spent most of said day watching those tricks.

After acknowledging the information, the connections faded from Chrysalis’s conscious awareness back into the faint buzz of the hivemind. The relative silence left her free to ponder this development. At a glance, three primary possibilities came to mind.

First, somepony could have thought Lulamoon made for a good name – or stage name, perhaps. It wasn’t fully in keeping with current pony naming tradition, but nopony who heard it would pay it a second glance, the archmage included, it seemed. Only Princess Celestia and perhaps a few very niche scholars would recognize its meaning.

Second, the pretender was there for her princess’s return. Ponyville was close to the old capital of Everfree. If the nightmare intended to head straight for Canterlot, she would fly right over the village.

Third, this Lulamoon was there for the archmage. With the Night Guardian Staff in her possession, she might actually stand a chance. Chrysalis highly doubted Archmage Twilight would let herself be assassinated, abducted, or otherwise inconvenienced, but the possibility existed.

Of the three, Chrysalis believed the second most likely. She gave no credence to coincidence, especially when two of the principle actors had an apparent history of conflict. Moreover, as far as anyone should know, the archmage was out on another one of her long-term missions, popping about Equestria to wherever duty called. Even Chrysalis didn’t know precisely what her plans involved. Credible reports had already placed her in Manehattan, Haywaii, Ponyville, Canterlot, and the Peaks of Peril of all places. The hive had also mentioned her trip to Las Pegasus to meet with Sunset Shimmer, and who knew how many other rumors of her appearances were true. Lying in wait for her in Ponyville made little sense. When she next appeared there officially, if at all, it would be after the nightmare’s return and defeat.

“Your Majesty, we found the Lulamoon’s wagon. It’s empty, and there are no wards, but there’s a lot of magic inside it.”

Chrysalis commanded it to be left alone. “Let’s leave this to the archmage’s discretion.”

A more hesitant voice said, “We haven’t been able to find her. No one we’ve spoken to has seen her since she left the Prancing Pony last night.”

“And Trixie?”

The uneasy silence of her three changelings in the village was answer enough. Chrysalis uttered a few choice words no pony could hope to replicate. She tossed aside the magical artifact she’d been playing with and made for the exit. “Stay alert. I’ll arrive soon to see to this myself.”

A somewhat bemused Amethyst Star gathered a copy of all the records for the upcoming festival and assembled them into the usual file for Index’s use. When she returned with them, she asked, “So what made you lose the dossier in less than an hour?”

Index, who had no idea what Amethyst Star was talking about, offered a blank look in return. Unless she’d orchestrated some complicated scheme that required her to modify her own memory, she’d not been in Ponyville at all until a few minutes ago. But then who would go to the trouble of impersonating a bureaucrat to acquire some basically worthless information about a relatively unimportant farming village? One of the local changelings, perhaps? Why? Then again, it could have been Celestia filling in for her.

Not seeing any good reason to expose the deception, Index shrugged. “Pinkie Pie and a Crusader were in the same room.”

Amethyst Star made a long, “Ah,” before wishing Index a good day.

Once outside, Twilight dropped all pretenses of remaining in character. The five minutes she’d managed to hold it in place were all she could muster right now. Really, what did it even matter? She was done with Ponyville. She’d found a bearer for each Element of Harmony, and she’d screwed up with each of them. They all knew who she was. The only purpose her disguise served anymore was to give her a little anonymity.

So, an impostor, is it? Twilight was looking for distractions, she knew, but a distraction had found her. It would be downright rude not to follow up on it.

“There you are.”

Twilight turned toward the voice and found…herself? It was almost like looking in a mirror. All of the physical details were a perfect match right down to the cut and color of her mane, but the mare held herself differently. A certain magnetic presence hung about her, an air of self-confidence bordering on supercilious, perhaps, something Twilight didn’t ordinarily concern herself enough with other ponies to project. The tiny corner of her mind concerned with physical beauty was a little irritated that this other mare pulled off her own look far better than she did.

From the other mare’s subspace storage appeared an obsidian crown, simple and unadorned but no less a symbol of power for the lack of ornamentation.

Twilight smiled and accepted Luna’s crown into her own magic with her thanks for its safe return. She took a brief moment to examine it in detail. Aside from a little wear and tear over the centuries, it perfectly matched what Luna wore in the Dream Realm. She doubted Sunset would have tried to pass a fake off to her, but as the old adage went, she would trust, but verify.

Glad to have something going right, Twilight tucked Luna’s crown away into her own bag of holding and offered, “Lunch? On the crown?”

Sunset rolled her eyes at the poor attempt at humor but accepted nonetheless. As there wasn’t anything in the way of fine dining in Ponyville and neither felt like a long trip just to eat, they settled on Café Hay and simply ignored the crowd of gawkers and gossipers that swelled around them. Despite how appropriate Sunset’s choice of disguise was, for they were naught but a bureaucrat and her boss meeting over lunch, it lacked subtlety. Still, it was nothing a few privacy spells couldn’t fix once they found their seats.

“So how did the Gladmane heist go?” Twilight asked.

A smirk on her face, Sunset let out an amused, triumphant snort. “The fool was only half as clever as he thought he was. I cleaned him out and managed to turn all of his employees against him in a single night.”

Twilight knew how that usually went. “Monologue?”

“Yep. I weaved a little magic to broadcast it across the resort. He never suspected a thing. During the chaos, I made off with everything.”

“Impressive.” It actually sounded rather exciting. It reminded her of her early years as the archmage when her wits mattered more than her power and experience. “Will anypony even believe he was robbed?”

“Unfortunately,” Sunset muttered. “If I’d had more time, I would have cooked the books. He kept detailed records, and after last night, the police would have believed anything I put in them. But opportunity presented itself…” She shrugged and sipped from her drink. “Still, I can’t wait to read about the fallout.”

“It’s always a pleasure trying to puzzle out your work.”

They were interrupted for a brief moment when their lunch arrived. Twilight had ordered a simple daffodil sandwich while Sunset had favored a large bowl of potato soup. Soon enough, they were alone once more – relatively speaking, of course.

“So how’s the love and friendship business going?” Sunset asked.

Although Twilight had expected the question, she’d vainly hoped to avoid it. She fought back an exasperated sigh and replied, “Not well. I’m hoping I can talk Luna into reconciling with Celestia, but that hasn’t gone well either.”

“Could you just have Sunbutt take you to the moon to reinforce her seal?”

It was a good idea, Twilight admitted, one she hadn’t thought of, but it wouldn’t work. “No. I wish I’d thought of it first, but no. I promised I wouldn’t do that to her.”

Sunset clicked her tongue and muttered something Twilight couldn’t hear.

“Besides,” Twilight continued, unfazed, “I just got back from checking on Discord’s seal. The Elements were ancient and mysterious even in the Classical Era, and it shows. I think the Elements will allow me to make manual modifications to their work. I’ll grant you that. But Luna’s prison isn’t weakening. It’s designed to fail. I’d need to modify it without disrupting it to keep her contained. At that point, I might as well take a hammer to a black box and hope it resets.”

“Fair point,” Sunset admitted. She wore a thoughtful look for a few spoonfuls of soup before she spoke again. “Could we apply Singer’s layered spell method to reapply the banishment without releasing Luna?”

Twilight shook her head. “Two problems. First, Celestia would have to cast it. The Elements provide an absurd amount of power to maintain these seals, and they actively reject her. Second” – the reason why she’d never bothered to consider it herself – “the magic would solidify in the transition from the doubled density.” And there was, of course, the deal she’d made with Luna as well.

The pair ate in silence after that for some time, each lost in their own thoughts.

Halfway to her mouth, Twilight paused and then lowered her sandwich. “Hey. Hypothetical question. What would it take to get you to stab Celestia in the back?”

Sunset arched an eyebrow.

“I’m not jumping ship. Just… I don’t want to say until you answer the question.”

Sunset eyed Twilight for a few moments before breaking the tension with a slurp of soup. “Well,” she began, “we could spend five minutes alone in a room together.”

Despite the poor taste, Twilight laughed. “Come on. Seriously. It’s important.”

“I don’t know,” Sunset replied with a little extra force. “Context matters with this sort of thing. Why don’t you tell me what you’re really asking.”

Twilight, rather than answer, shoved her sandwich into her mouth. She really didn’t want to let anypony know how badly she’d failed with the Elements.

“There you are.”

Ah, déjà vu.

A unicorn mare who had a very official look about her, from her orderly mane to her time-themed cutie mark, approached the table. She glanced first at Sunset, then Twilight, and finally asked, “Who betrayed the hive?”

Twilight cast a little privacy spell that Sunset could easily – but obviously – circumvent to keep her answer secret. “Thorax.” As she dispelled that last, flimsy layer of security, she invited the likely changeling to sit while Chrysalis conducted her business.

“‘It’s a relief to see you well,’” Chrysalis said through her changeling now that Twilight had confirmed her identity. “‘We have a situation here.’”

I leave for one day. “What is it?”

The changeling’s eyes flicked toward the other pony at the table.

“Oh! This is Sunset Shimmer. She knows about the situation with Nightmare Moon.” Twilight put the slightest emphasis on the name. Hopefully, Sunset picked up on the fact that Chrysalis didn’t know about Luna’s dreamwalking yet. “Sunset, this is…complicated. And with your future plans, you should probably know.” Twilight politely looked to the changeling for approval.

“‘Queen Chrysalis,’” the changeling said. She added, “In person.”

That took Twilight aback. Whatever trouble had arrived in Ponyville was serious if Chrysalis had come herself.

“I rule the changeling hive in Equestria.”

“Changelings?” Sunset echoed. “No offense, but the bug ponies who eat love? You’re real?”

Twilight stepped in to offer a little elucidation. “They came to Equestria a decade ago, and we worked out a residency agreement with them a few years later. If you truly intend to take the Crystal Empire” – Chrysalis directed a questioning look her way but said nothing – “you two will want to take tea sometime.”

“Huh. Well, this is an unexpected pleasure, Your…Majesty?”

Nodding, Chrysalis said, “Likewise. My mother spoke of the Crystal Heart with great reverence.”

It took a few moments before understanding – whatever the Crystal Heart was – dawned on Sunset’s face. “You can feed off the energy it emits?”

“It was no changeling’s preferred meal, but when in need, it was there. We will speak more later, I’m sure. For now” – Chrysalis turned back to Twilight – “what do you know of the Lulamoons?”

Twilight had a feeling fate had just played a cruel prank on her. “Do you mean Trixie’s family?” Ponies didn’t usually pass names down, but it happened. Her own mother’s family held the tradition.

But Chrysalis replied, “No, not at all. Lulamoon is a title. It literally means ‘famous moon warrior’.”

Face met hoof as Twilight groaned. “I could have used that information earlier.”

Sunset, already primed for the conclusion, put the pieces together first. “That’s why you were asking!” she cried incredulously. “What the hay! Don’t tell me you gave her Loyalty.”

An exasperated sigh escaped Twilight as she buried her head in her hooves. “She has Laughter. I didn’t know her loyalties until this morning.”

“Ah. The Elements of Harmony?” Chrysalis asked. After Twilight nodded, she said, “Well, I hope you have another plan. My hive has no idea where she is, and if she’s smart, she’ll not show herself in civilization until after the solstice.”

Twilight knew what Chrysalis was implicitly suggesting as a solution. She needed to put an end to that line of thought. “I know where she is, but we can’t kill her. The Elements are in too questionable a state to risk such a shock to their system. Discord would be worse than Nightmare Moon by far.” Sighing, she sat back upright. “But yes, I have other plans in the works. I may be able to win over Trixie. If not, so be it. If all else fails and Nightmare Moon can’t be reasoned with, I’ll cheat and banish her again.”

“Cheat how?” Sunset asked, a question Chrysalis no doubt shared.

“That,” Twilight began, “is my secret.” She blew a raspberry at the other two. Foalish? Yes. But it made her feel a little lighter. It also probably did more than anything else she could have said to get them to believe she actually had a secret magic of last resort capable of striking down gods which she jealously guarded.

Ignoring how put out Sunset looked, Chrysalis said, “Fair enough. Princess Celestia asked me to locate the missing Night Guardian Staff. Should I assume Trixie has it?”

Twilight opened her mouth to ask what on Equus the Night Guardian Staff was, but a recent memory surfaced of Trixie wielding a staff with a night motif on stage. She’d been particularly wary of it. The thing had all but screamed, “I’m a major magical artifact!” yet she’d had no idea what it did. There were usually clues in design, in idle function, or in rumor by which she could prepare a defense. But the staff? A silent mystery.

“Probably,” Twilight finally replied. “And I don’t think I’ll win any points with her by taking it. What does it do?”

“It’s a spellcasting assistant.”

Sunset whistled appreciatively, but Twilight felt her lips pull back as she sucked in a hiss of air. A shudder ran through her whole body. The last two ponies with spellcasting assistants she’d fought against had nearly killed her. She’d been younger then, true, but they also hadn’t possessed even half of Trixie’s own skill. “It’s not corruptive, is it?” Both the Alicorn Amulet and the Inspiration Manifestation had been.

“No,” came Chrysalis’s merciful reply. “Princess Luna made regular use of it for centuries without ill effect.”

“Good. You can tell Princess Celestia you found it and left it in my care, then.”

Chrysalis’s gaze drifted toward Sunset. “And the crown?”

“Maybe just keep quiet on that one.” A quick glance at Sunset got a nod in return.

“Very well. I’ll take my leave of you, then. Don’t let the Lulamoon integrate into your hive.”

After Chrysalis had left through a portal of green flame, easily explained by the ‘archmage’s’ presence, Twilight said, “Changeling expression. More or less means watch your back.”

Sunset quite obviously didn’t care.

“So…yeah.” Twilight twiddled the remains of her sandwich between her hooves. “Trixie is basically you, but with Luna.”

“I see.” Sunset’s dour frown abated somewhat. “What drove her away, then?”

With too little to go on, Twilight said, “I have no idea. Luna mentioned tripping over the ‘chief failing of her character’, I think it was. Pride, maybe?” Her current impression of Trixie largely came from their duel, and Trixie hadn’t taken her loss well. “I still don’t know what it was for you, either. Celestia was pretty vague about it.”

“As I said before, my relationship with her is none of your business.”

Twilight held up her hooves in silent surrender. She didn’t think that was entirely true, but pushing would do no good.

Glare relenting, Sunset said, “My advice? Don’t try to insert yourself between Trixie and Luna. Trying to push them apart won’t help whatever relationship they have, but it’ll certainly make them close ranks.”

“That’s not as helpful as I was hoping for.”

“Hey, you can’t expect me to change your life every time we meet, Sparkles.”

Sparkles? Twilight shrugged and went with it. It was a better nickname than Sunbutt, at least.

Author's Notes:

The story progresses at long last! For those of you not aware, you can find the revision notes for literally everything before this chapter here: Revision Notes - July 10th (2020). Be aware that while the destination is the same, the journey has changed considerably.

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Behold! A shameless promotion for my Patreon.

Chapter Sixteen - Falling Apart

Curious eyes scanned formulas far beyond their understanding. “What do these do?”

“Promise to keep this secret?” As if that would get any answer but an eager nod. “What’s to stop me from taking a pegasus form and channeling magic through my wings to fly?”

“Nothing, really. I’ve seen you do it.”

While true, that deserved a roll of the eyes. “Okay, yes, but that was much more difficult for me than it is for pegasi. The point I was trying to get at is magical typing. Unicorns have unicorn magic. Pegasi have pegasus magic. Dragons have draconic magic. So on and so forth. Each responds differently when set to a purpose, some more readily than others. Pegasus magic, for instance, is well-attuned for flight. Unicorn magic, unhelpful thing that it is, can emulate pegasus flight if you do all the work yourself. Earth pony magic would actively resist being so shaped.”

A moment passed in silence for dramatic effect.

“But what if there was a way to untype the magic you generate?”

When Twilight returned to her lab, she found Spike, Pinkie Pie, the lovers, and Flash all sitting around one of her workbenches contentedly playing cards. Poker, it looked like. The three bearers among them got along just fine, which came as no great shock. Likewise Trixie’s absence didn’t surprise her given what she knew now. Still, a bit of reclusiveness was a far better start than knives in the dark. Last night would have given Trixie all the opportunity she’d have needed if that were the route she intended to take.

Sweetie Belle’s absence, however, was more keenly felt. Even if she’d decided to occupy herself with her homework, Twilight had the impression that she’d rather do it with company than in solitude. Then again, they’d only known each other for a couple weeks. Perhaps she liked peace and quiet when she needed to think.

Through sheer force of will, Twilight sat down at the table and asked to be dealt into the game despite all of the science surrounding her. Numerous beloved projects beckoned to her with their siren’s song. She could just pick them up and continue wherever she’d left off. It would be so easy. It would be so fun.

The sacrifices she made for Celestia…

“So did you get what I asked for?”

Twilight, bemused, looked up from her cards. Spike asked for something? Thinking about it, she did vaguely recall making a detour on her way to Canterlot. Reaching into her subspace storage, she withdrew one of her lab flasks. That didn’t belong in there, so it must be what she was looking for. What was in this again?

Seeing chips passing begrudgingly from everypony but Pinkie Pie to a very smug looking Spike jogged Twilight’s memory.

“Oh, ha ha. Very amusing.” Twilight labeled and set the flask aside elsewhere in the lab. She could probably find an actual use for some water from the Stream of Silence some other time.

“I don’t – the mountain – the flask – the distance–” Lost for words, Bon Bon settled on, “How?”

Twilight let out a small huff. Distance and elevation didn’t really mean much to her, only headings. And how much attention did it really take to fill a flask from a stream? “I had more important things on my mind at the time.”

“Something about screwing up something or other?” Spike scratched a claw along a cheek as he tried to recall whatever he’d overheard of Twilight’s freak out earlier today.

Pinkie Pie did her usual thing and asked how they could help. “It’s what friends are for,” she added when Twilight first tried to put her off.

“While true,” Twilight allowed, “it’s best I keep it to myself.” She didn’t want to self-sabotage by setting everyone up to distrust Trixie. Really, Twilight had no idea what to do about her. Confronting her without a plan wouldn’t go over well, so what option was there but to leave her be for now? But on the subject of Trixie, Twilight asked, “Where are our missing members, by the way?”

“Trixie went upstairs to practice her act,” Lyra replied, meaning she’d left the lab for more open pastures above ground. “I helped Sweetie Belle head up a little later to watch.”

This first test of trust had come much swifter than Twilight had expected. If Trixie was going to do anything, she’d have done it last night. She repeated that to herself, determined not to leap to an unnecessary rescue and screw up even more than she already had.

“She said she’d ‘flame’ if she needs to be picked up.”

At least Sweetie Belle had thought through whatever she was doing enough to have a way back to shelter if Trixie abandoned her. Twilight highly doubted she’d actually gone to watch Trixie practice. If somepony had displayed such open hostility to her own beloved mentor, Twilight knew she would have leapt to Celestia’s defense at that age even if she knew it would cause more problems.

Maybe I should at least check up on – no, this is going to happen eventually. I just have to trust Sweetie Belle not to push too far.

That was easier said than done. A dozen divination spells just to peek in on them leapt to mind. It would be so easy. If she took her time, Trixie might not even notice. And really, Sweetie Belle was her responsibility. Everyone here was her responsibility on some level, of course, but Sweetie Belle was especially so as both her student and a minor under her care.

If something bad was going to happen, surely Pinkie Pie would know before it occurred.

Twilight just needed to relax. She even had a distraction actively at work in front of her. Poker wasn’t her game, but she was doing well enough, relatively speaking. She couldn’t tell if Pinkie Pie was cheating or not. Pinkie Pie wasn’t winning, but she assumed so regardless. That mare had different priorities which might or might not include victory. It made playing against her extremely frustrating. No one doubted Lyra’s guilt, however. Every verbal slip made, Honesty picked up on.

But despite these disadvantages, both Spike and Flash had massive piles of chips in front of them. Twilight had some awareness that Spike, at least, sometimes played cards with Shining when he was off duty. All of the Royal Guard likely participated when they had the chance. It was probably why, she later learned, the two had suggested the game to begin with.

The remainder of the afternoon slowly passed into evening, and soon it came time to prepare dinner. Pinkie Pie happily volunteered both herself and Twilight for the task.

“Wait, what?” Twilight had little time to protest before Pinkie Pie all but abducted her. She hadn’t been winning or even close to it, but that wasn’t the point. “Pinkie, I’ve never cooked before in my life!” If anypony said otherwise, they were lying. And potions didn’t count. “I have literally paid you to do this for me.”

Heedless to all warnings, Pinkie Pie said, “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you how!”

The kitchen was largely built out of repurposed lab equipment. Some personal implements Pinkie Pie had brought herself, although where they’d been up until now remained a matter of intense scholarly debate. To talk her out of making rock soup – a suggestion she would no doubt follow through on if not appeased – Twilight acquiesced to taking an active role in the production of a far more palatable vegetable stew. She had no idea what she was doing or why, merely blindly following instructions, but that didn’t seem to matter.

Soon enough, they finally set the stew to simmer for the next hour. Pinkie Pie, lacking most of the base ingredients involved in baking, settled on throwing together a fruit salad for a side dish. That was a simple enough task for Twilight to replicate, even if she made them ‘too orderly’.

“Hmm…”

Looking up from her work, Twilight found Pinkie Pie leaning into the counter and staring at her. She cocked her head to the side. “What?”

“You still have three and a half marshmallows of worry.”

Twilight blinked. “What?”

“Do you have cupcake in your ear again?”

Twilight pressed her ears flat against her head. “I do not. Now what are you on about?” With Pinkie Pie visibly winding up for a long, rambling explanation, she quickly added, “I don’t need the whole story.”

“Fine.” A bit of playfully exaggerated petulance made its way into that response, but it vanished immediately after. “In my continuing crusade to bring smiles to everypony everywhere, one mare continues to frown. A deep-seated fear has its icy grip upon her heart. She worries, for her student has run off into the cold, dark night with a suspicious sorceress from Silver Shoals.”

Eyebrows raised, Twilight asked, “Trixie is from Silver Shoals?” As far as she knew, that was a retirement community.

“Don’t try to distract me with your silver tongue!” Pinkie Pie leaned further forward into Twilight’s personal space and, with one eye closed, said, “I’ve got my eye on you.”

“Right…” Twilight coaxed Pinkie Pie back to her own side of the counter with a light press of magic. “What exactly do you think I’m worried about?”

“Well, you’re scared-worried, not protective-worried or jealous-worried, so you must think Trixie is dangerous dangerous, not just negligent or out to steal your protégé, but not a meanie pants since you’re not spying on her or fighting her.”

Faced with that particular blend of logic, Twilight found herself reluctantly following along and ultimately accepting that Pinkie Pie knew what she was on about. She always did in her own special way. With a sigh, Twilight decided to tell just enough of the truth to give her some context.

“Trixie is powerful, has some grudge against me, lacks any real ties to this group, and Sweetie Belle is a vulnerability I’m not used to managing with a knack for getting into trouble.”

“Oh, all the time!”

Twilight quirked an eyebrow. There were less reassuring words, she supposed.

Pinkie Pie, to her mild credit, seemed to realize this a few moments later. “But I’m sure this time will be different!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really!” Pinkie Pie insisted. “All Trixie needs is a warm welcome party from all her new friends! And that includes you.”

Somehow Twilight doubted that would fix everything or even anything. Not that she had any better ideas at the moment or any reason to stand in Pinkie Pie’s way. She’d not comment beyond a halfhearted attempt at a smile. In hindsight, this whole conversation, this attempt to reassure her, must have been why Pinkie Pie had conscripted her into kitchen duty. It hadn’t exactly worked, but it was a nice gesture.

“I should probably go bring Sweetie Belle back inside.” To forestall any objections, Twilight added, “Supper will be done soon, right?”

“Yep!”

As Twilight pushed power into her horn, she added, “Thanks for trying, Pinkie,” and then teleported away.

So absorbed in recounting the final moments of her glorious victory over the dreaded ursa major, Trixie almost failed to notice the unwelcome magic scanning the surrounding tundra. She paused only a moment in her story, recovering quickly, and outright ignored the expansion to her otherwise enthralled audience of one. The lingering presence of her magic, dancing about in epic illusions to bring the tale to life, prevented Sweetie Belle, clearly untrained in such matters, from noticing when her mentor blinked into place only a short few steps behind her.

At last, they came to the moment of truth. The ursa major thought it had Trixie right where it wanted her, but in truth, it had only sealed its doom. When it advanced for the killing blow, it realized too late that she’d used her illusions to lure it into a trap. It’s paw found no purchase where it’d thought there to be ground. With a defiant roar and one last vain attempt to snare its prey, it tumbled off the cliffside. Flailing, slashing, grasping at nothing, it plummeted down toward the ground ever faster. A great crashing and a thundering boom echoed throughout the mountains seconds later.

Thus was it done. The beast had been slain.

Sweetie Belle applauded and cheered as Trixie took a bow.

In the background, Twilight Sparkle wrote in the air, ‘It didn’t die.’

That brought Trixie up short. Surely not. Even a pegasus would have trouble surviving an impact of such magnitude.

‘Celestia dealt with it. They’re easier to dump in the middle of nowhere than to put down.’

Well, so long as somepony had resolved the situation in the end, Trixie supposed it didn’t really matter who. She’d still saved the village and outwitted the beast. The story just had a little epilogue now which she’d leave out.

“That was amazing!” Sweetie Belle wore such a wide, endearing smile that Trixie had a hard time being properly dismissive of her. “You must be the best illusionist in the world.”

Trixie smirked and somehow resisted glancing up at Twilight Sparkle’s reaction. That would give the game away too early. “It’s good you properly recognize the Great and Powerful Trixie’s amazing abilities. Please go on.”

Unfortunately, such was not to be. Twilight Sparkle spoke, drawing a startled reaction from her student. “Alas, I am betrayed.” She scooped Sweetie Belle up into a light hug and kept her within arm’s reach once finished. “But you may be right. My specialty is magical theory, not illusions.”

Because of course Twilight Sparkle assumes she’s automatically the runner up.

With a now nervous smile, Sweetie Belle said, “Trixie was just telling me about her adventures.”

“Yes, I saw. Very impressive, Trixie. If I were in the show business myself, I’d hire you on the spot.”

“She also told me about the Canterlot Derby.”

Twilight Sparkle had a blank look on her face for a few moments before recognition finally surfaced. “Oh, yes. Celestia had me organize the safety measures a few years ago when she went to Saddle Arabia. It’s a complicated song and dance amongst society. That’s what always happens when a bunch of nobles get together, of course, but put their foals into direct competition like that, and it becomes more about who has more wealth to throw at their cart and can afford the best engineers and sorceresses. Once in a while, some nopony wins, but–”

Trixie very loudly cleared her throat.

“Hmm? Oh. Uh… Point proven?”

“No offense,” Sweetie Belle began, “but I liked Trixie’s version of it better.”

Twilight Sparkle chuckled. “Yeah, I’d imagine so.”

“She also told me why she doesn’t like you.”

For a time, the only sound was the wind and the skittering of loose snow upon it. It took Trixie a few moments before she realized that the conversation hadn’t ground to a halt. Stars forbid Twilight Sparkle feel a little awkward or repentant. No, instead, it’d merely changed mediums.

“Well, not everything,” Sweetie Belle said in response to whatever Generosity had picked up from Twilight Sparkle. “But enough.”

There was another moment of silence.

“No, really. She–” Sweetie Belle froze. “She’s what! But–” The filly spun from Twilight Sparkle to Trixie, stared fearfully for a moment, and then took a few wary steps back into the shelter of her teacher’s legs. A little coaxing brought her back out a short while later. “Who is Sun–”

A moment passed.

“Oh. That’s…”

Trixie was beyond tired of being left out of the conversation. “Excuse you, but there is a third pony present.”

“Right. Sorry.” That might very well be the first apology Trixie had ever heard pass from Twilight Sparkle’s lips.

Regardless, it was not enough, not nearly. Trixie couldn’t let this blatant attempt at taking a fan from her pass unchallenged. “What lies did you tell her about me to scare her away?”

Twilight Sparkle facehoofed. “None. That doesn’t even make any sense. You and Sweetie Belle both have an Element. I need you two to be friends.”

“So you claim, but for all the proof you’ve given me–”

“Hey!”

Both mares looked down at Sweetie Belle.

“Trixie, I’m sorry for how I reacted. I was, um…surprised to hear–” A raspberry glow held Sweetie Belle’s mouth closed so only incomprehensible mumbles could escape her.

“This is maybe not the best time for that, Sweetie Belle.”

When the glow of Twilight Sparkle’s magic faded, Sweetie Belle said, “When I let Apple Bloom and Scootaloo not talk to each other, their grievances became so much worse than they needed to be.”

“We can discuss this later in private,” Twilight Sparkle said with a hint of command behind her voice.

“Oh, I think not.” Trixie refused to allow Twilight Sparkle to slink away into her lab to find some more palatable lie to share. “Tell me what you told her, or I’ll abandon this train wreck of a fellowship here and now.” That was, perhaps, a dangerous threat to make, but Trixie didn’t care anymore.

Twilight Sparkle closed her eyes and then indulged in some strange breathing exercise. Once finished, she calmly asked, “And why would you do that with so much at stake?”

“Perhaps I’d rather watch the world freeze than suffer you.”

The wind howled in the silence that fell.

“Sweetie Belle,” Twilight Sparkle began with far too much seriousness in her voice, “I need you to get everyone into the test chamber. You’ll be safe there.”

“Your command?” Niian asked.

Sweetie Belle’s confusion melted away in an instant. “What? No, I can–”

“You’re in the way.” A tiny flux of Twilight Sparkle’s magic sent Sweetie Belle back underground into the lab as she said the words.

“So that’s how it is, is it? The great Twilight Sparkle isn’t getting her way, so she resorts to force to impose her will upon everypony around her.”

Twilight Sparkle heaved a long sigh. “Her heart is in the right place, but I doubt Sweetie Belle has ever encountered somepony with issues as deeply rooted as yours.”

Trixie bristled, but her greatest rival ignored the reaction and continued on.

“I don’t want to have this conversation yet, because I have no idea what to say. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m so far out of my depth here, I’m drowning. Can we please just head inside and put this off for another day? I really don’t–”

“Speak plainly!” Trixie had no idea what Twilight Sparkle was babbling about, nor did she care.

“Fine. Luna told me you were her student.”

All manner of foul emotions surged through Trixie.

“That’s all I told Sweetie Belle.”

Anger. Jealousy. Fear. Resentment. Indignation.

“She won’t tell anyone.”

But all of them centered around just one.

“I personally don’t care.”

Betrayal.

“I’ll happily help put Luna back on her throne.”

It always came back to this.

“I just want her to leave Celestia alone.”

She was never good enough for anypony.

“That’s all I want.”

Not her mother.

“All the Elements will do is make her let go of her grudge.”

Not Twilight Sparkle.

“But I need you to make them work.”

Not Princess Celestia.

“Please. It’s what’s best for everypony.”

Not even Luna.

“Her. Celestia. Equestria.”

She would prove them all wrong.

“Enough!” Trixie snapped Niian from her neck. “Staff mode.”

“Trixie, please–”

Trixie had no more patience for entreaties. “You and me,” she said. “A magic duel.” Niian fell into her waiting arm, once more as its name suggested and ready for battle. “Here and now with our full powers.”

By the set of her jaw, Twilight Sparkle grit her teeth at the challenge. “Why? Luna wouldn’t want–”

“I don’t care what she wants!” Trixie snapped. She pointed Niian straight at Twilight Sparkle. “Fight me, or I’ll beat you down until you finally retaliate.”

That did the trick.

“Fine. Wait here for my return. I need to collect a few things to give you the fight you want.”

At the Old Castle, Twilight stood before the Element of Magic with a heavy frown. She didn’t see a way forward that didn’t involve her overwhelming victory over Trixie. If she held back, she’d only further anger Trixie. If she made it a close match, she’d be doing this again tomorrow. But if she crushed Trixie’s pride, what would that get her? Hard-earned respect? Broken acceptance? More bitterness and spite? A Luna to her Celestia?

“I know you’re not going to approve,” Twilight said to Magic, “but I don’t know what else to do.”

Magic, of course, offered no alternatives.

“Without you, Trixie might even be able to beat me. The Night Guardian Staff is no joke. I’m sure you remember it. Luna used to keep it at her side.”

She might have just imagined it, but a foreign feeling of recognition and reluctant acceptance flashed through Twilight.

“Well that was…unexpected.” In hindsight, perhaps it shouldn’t have been. Celestia had said that the Element’s ‘didn’t like her’ and that they ‘had a mind of their own’. “If my mind isn’t just playing tricks on me, thank you for understanding. I promise I won’t do any lasting damage to Laughter’s bearer.”

Twilight placed Magic upon her brow. Immediately, it’s strength flowed into her to mesh with her own. The rush of power was as electrifying as it had been the last time she’d worn Magic. Why had she ever continued to make the sacrifice to part with her Element when she had a perfectly good substitute now? Duty? Responsibility? Obligation? Who cared for such trivial things?

Through Magic, Twilight summoned Laughter from wherever Trixie had left it and locked it away from her. It would keep the Old Castle safe from the Everfree Forest in Magic’s place.

With that done, Twilight polymorphed into the alicorn form she’d been wearing in her dreams. She gave her wings an experimental flap. As expected, without pegasus magic coursing through them, they fell far short of providing the lift necessary for true flight, but they would suffice for combat with a few additional spells. They were certainly the best choice of the options available to her. Regular pegasus wings, were she a world-class flier, would arguably give her slightly more maneuverability, but she’d grown used to the oversized ones characteristic of the alicorn species.

One all too fleeting minute was all the time Twilight budgeted to accustom herself to her wings in the real world. Lyra would be able to hold Trixie off long enough in the off chance she tried anything, Twilight was sure, but she’d rather not keep Trixie waiting longer than necessary.

“All right, partner. Next stop, Canterlot.”

Twilight quickly built up the power necessary for the long, single jump all the way home.

If anypony ever thought Twilight had let those amongst her Evening Guard off lightly with a slap on the fetlock and a job opportunity, Moon Dancer would be the first to stand in their defense after the report she’d just heard. The Staff of Sacanas, so named for its creator long before Discord, was a vile thing. It no doubt once had legitimate medical uses millennia ago, or something to that effect, but now all it did was interfere with a pony’s magical channeling to drain power for its wielder’s own use. Starlight had at least another week to look forward to in the hospital to recover from the thaumic burns she’d given herself overcoming its effects.

“Tempest, I’ll be glad to hear the rest of your report in a bit, but I want to lock this thing away in the vault before some charming but naive rogue or treacherous vizier steals it.” Maybe she’d read too many novels, but Moon Dancer didn’t want to take any chances with something this dangerous.

The walk from the archmage’s office to the vault was blessedly short and likely by design. The usual guards stood at its doors and saluted upon their approach. Tempest got one or two dirty looks, but nopony moved to stop them from entering – or from attempting to enter, if they were impostors, which they were not.

Moon Dancer inserted her horn into the lock and applied the necessary magic to open the vault. Gears turned as counterweights fell and pulleys spun. The enchantments sealing passage glowed in bright acceptance, and the doors parted with a heavy grinding of stone against stone just long enough for Moon Dancer and Tempest to pass through.

“Ow! Not that tight.”

Moon Dancer hadn’t expected to find anypony else in here, much less Twilight, but coincidence was, by nature, a strange thing. Without waiting, Tempest shot off toward the voice to pay homage to the not quite princess she’d sworn herself to.

A barely comprehensible voice, like one trying to speak through closed teeth, said, “This isn’t exactly easy, Twily.”

And Captain Armor as well. What are they doing here?

“Your Excellency, do you require assistance?”

“Oh, Tempest, perfect timing. His Highness here doesn’t remember how to put on armor now that he has ponies to do that for him.”

Moon Dancer arched her eyebrows as she approached the room containing those three. What she saw inside, however, gave her pause.

As though a painting had leapt from its canvas, both winged and crowned, a warrior goddess on the eve of battle stood flanked by her two attendants. Idle power radiated from her without care or concern as they labored to don her enchanted armor. The mortal prince had his teeth on a strap beneath her wing while the hardened soldier deftly moved to secure its opposite. Half worn, the remainder of the armor sat waiting upon its stand.

Moon Dancer shook off the feeling of intruding upon history. She entered the room but kept her distance and did her best to stay out of the way. “Twilight? What’s going on?”

“Nothing much. Trixie picked a fight with me, so I’m going to teach her why I’m listed beside Celestia on the Alicorn Accords.”

Oh, this couldn’t end well for anypony.

“Speaking of,” Twilight continued, “if you get any reports of magical disturbances in the Frozen North, feel free to ignore them.”

“Sweetie Belle, I’m telling you there’s nothing to worry about. Whatever conflict Trixie and Twilight had brewing is over.”

For the filly’s peace of mind, Lyra cast a scrying spell again to check up on the former. As far as she could tell, there’d been no grand battle nor anything of the sort. The two had, if perhaps not sorted out their differences, then at least deescalated tensions with words rather than horns. Trixie had stayed behind to continue practicing her illusions while Twilight had left for Equestria. That was a bit of guesswork on Lyra’s part with Flash’s help, as Loyalty acted only as a compass, but she assumed Twilight didn’t have another secret lab south of this one in the Frozen North.

Lyra canceled her spell. “It’s still just…Trixie…”

Through the corridor, Pinkie hopped by with a huge pot bouncing atop her head while somehow not falling over and spilling its contents. The lid covering it clanked with every landing, and the steam that escaped in a trail of little bursts revealed how hot it all remained.

Lyra grasped the pot in her magic. While Pinkie was Pinkie and her mane probably acted as insulator, she shouldn’t have to do…whatever it was she was doing. They’d set the kitchen up adjacent to the dining room, Lyra recalled. Nopony needed to transport anything more cumbersome than snacks anywhere.

When questioned, Pinkie replied, “I’m taking our supper to the test chamber now that it’s done, silly.”

So that was what this was about. Lyra sighed and conceded with a simple, “Fine.” Resisting Pinkie’s whims rarely turned out well. She reached out toward the dining room with her magic and teleported the table, tableware, cushions, and the salads already laid out to their temporary new home. After that, she teleported the pot of delicious smelling stew there after them.

“There. I moved everything. Now why don’t we–”

A tidal wave of magical flux erupted from above ground. Nopony with a horn could possibly miss it.

“–run and hide from whatever creature from the abyss crawled its way onto dry land.”

Once the initial wave of power died down and the sting left Trixie’s horn, her senses returned to her. It took no effort at all to spot Twilight Sparkle gliding down from the sky on a pair of fake alicorn wings. The armor she recognized from the newspapers after that ridiculous war with the griffons, but the crown was as new as it was pretentious. In the absence of any other explanation, she assumed it was the Element of Magic.

Twilight Sparkle landed without leaving the slightest impression in the snow below her perhaps ten hooves away from the illusionary Trixie she’d left in her place. She had confidence in her abilities, and even at the true distance between them, Twilight Sparkle oozed magic. The noise from that should cover up the remote chance she had of noticing the trick.

“I’m ready whenever you are.”

In the back of her mind, Trixie noted that her jaw hurt as though she’d been grinding her teeth. “Perfectly worded,” she had the illusion say. At the same instant, Niian leapt into action under her direction with a snap-casted spell.

“Explosion.”

The earth shook. Loose bits of stone and dust fell from the ceiling. A weak shield from Lyra kept it out of their food, not that Sweetie Belle had much of an appetite at the moment.

“Oh, come on!” Flash cried. “That should have hit!” He sulkily swallowed a spoonful of stew. Dinner and a show, he’d called it. “Illusionists are dumb.”

“No, the one over there. She’s right there!” Somehow, despite watching an illusion of an illusion, Pinkie always knew where Trixie was even when she was outright invisible instead of merely misdirecting the senses.

Spike, unconcerned and clearly a little bored despite the legendary clash of titans playing out before him, commented, “She should stop playing and just end it already. Trixie isn’t going to thank her for dragging out her humiliation.”

This caught Flash by surprise. “Wait, she’s playing with her? You mean she’s even better than this?” His eyes shone with admiration.

“Well, yeah,” Spike replied. “I mean, it’s not like some showpony who never even finished her education is going to actually challenge her.”

Except Trixie wasn’t just any showpony. Sweetie Belle wanted to explain, but she couldn’t. Archmage Twilight had asked her not to say, and this whole mess was her fault to begin with. She shouldn’t have called Trixie out on not being the greatest modern spellcaster. She shouldn’t have unintentionally given her the idea for this battle. She should have done more to prevent it. She was supposed to help, not ruin everything.

Beside Sweetie Belle, she heard Lyra mumbling, “This is just like home. Equestria isn’t supposed to be like this. I came here to get away from this madness,” while Bon Bon comforted her marefriend with soothing words, cuddles, and nuzzles. Sweetie Belle wasn’t sure what that one was about. She’d have to investigate what language Lyra used in her thoughts later to find out where she’d come from.

An explosion tore apart the sky where Archmage Twilight flew. In other circumstances, Sweetie Belle would have gasped from worry, but this fight had long since drained her emotionally. All she could muster up was some mild, internal worry and a little confidence that her mentor couldn’t fall to anything less than an alicorn.

“What are you waiting for?” Pinkie said as if either Archmage Twilight or Trixie could hear a word of the commentary. “That explosion didn’t hit her.”

Indeed not, nor had any of the others. If she didn’t dodge or counter the magic, the archmage merely teleported to safety.

“Pinkie, who are you rooting for?” Flash asked.

“Both of them,” Pinkie replied. “Duh.”

Archmage Twilight hurled a magical blast with far too much power behind it to do anything but scramble out of its path. It slammed into the ground, seemingly without a target. Perhaps Trixie had been there, or perhaps it had been part of a larger plan to draw her out. Regardless, while the group remained safe in the test chamber under what Lyra had termed siege wards, the miss still shook the earth hard enough to spill some of Sweetie Belle’s nearly untouched bowl of stew.

In a separate thread of conversation, Bon Bon asked, “Hey, Spike? Question. Has Twilight secretly been an alicorn all along?”

Sweetie Belle picked up some very bitter thoughts about Princess Celestia without context from Spike before he pushed them away and replied, “She’s not an alicorn.”

It was true. The Element of Magic, rather than a species change, let Archmage Twilight throw power around without any concern for her own reserves while Trixie had to fight smart. Maybe Spike had actually had a point when he’d claimed that she was only playing. When else would she get a chance to cut loose and test her limits like this against somepony who could take it?

Not that it made Sweetie Belle feel less guilty for provoking this disaster.

When she finally finished this fight, Twilight needed to compose a treatise concerning how much she utterly loathed battling spellcasting assistants. This had quickly become the single most frustrating duel of her entire life. The Night Guardian Staff could compose the most realistic of illusions able to fool all senses in the time it took to blink. It even managed to incorporate magical fluxes into them to deceive her ability to perceive magic. Such was the work of minutes or even hours, not moments!

Worse, every time Twilight found an oversight to exploit, Trixie managed to quickly redesign her illusions to plug the hole. Then the Night Guardian Staff incorporated the modifications into their combined spellcasting. It certainly didn’t help that it was equally fast with every other spell she taught it, including her beloved and insufferable pyrotechnics.

Worst of all, illusions as a whole ranked amongst the least magic-intensive and most efficient spells in existence. Despite their complexity, Trixie could keep this up all day. Turning this into a battle of attrition would just become a test of who could stay awake the longest.

A momentary flux of power was all the warning Twilight received. She beat her wings, sending her soaring skyward just in time to avoid another explosion. The heat wouldn’t hurt her, but the concussive force could daze her for long enough to end the fight if it overcame her protections. Annoyingly enough, Trixie had actually managed to pop her emergency teleport a few times early on before she found her rhythm.

Twilight caught the thermal the explosion generated beneath her wings to build more speed in her flight, thereafter weaving her way between Trixie’s subsequent attacks. It took more time than she’d have liked before she managed to determine the most probable approximate point of origin for the explosions, but she found it.

All right, let’s see if fluid dynamics are part of your illusions yet.

Twilight kicked up a light, uniform wind, for all intents and purposes indistinguishable from a natural breeze. She then cast a few divination spells to measure the air velocity downwind. The results, to her careful delight, showed an obstruction in the area. As the terrain below was relatively flat with no sign of her opponent, that meant one of two things.

First, Trixie’s illusions could, perhaps, account for the passage of air. If so, then the real Trixie would be invisible to such detection, leaving this to be a trap.

Second, Twilight had found her target.

Well, worse-case scenario, I waste a bit of time and smash my way out of a trap with Magic.

After a few more measurements to triangulate Trixie’s location, Twilight teleported right behind her and immediately fired off a short beam of pure power. It dispelled everything in its way via sheer brute force. A few measly illusions wouldn’t weaken it. Shields wavered before it. It would poke a hole through hundreds of spells before it ran out of steam. Fighting with so much magic at her disposal was just unfair.

And it worked!

Trixie’s invisibility illusion shattered under the assault. She let out a startled grunt as the force of the beam sent her flying and, with any luck, knocked her out.

Elated with her success, Twilight rushed to follow up before Trixie could escape again, but it was no use. A surge of power not quite Trixie’s carried her away as another explosion crashed into Twilight and popped her emergency teleport.

Far away and once more in the sky, a scream of frustration tore from Twilight’s mouth. “I hate spellcasting assistants!”

That was it. It was time to stop playing nice. Twilight had a new plan.

Step one required her to erect an anti-teleportation ward a few leagues in diameter. Setting up wards mid-combat was usually a nonstarter, but this game of cat and mouse limited Trixie’s ability to interfere without exposing her position and thus getting pinned down in the effort.

Step two consisted of bombardment spells to blanket the earth. That ought to make it easy to find Trixie. If Luna had a problem with that, tough. Trixie had started this. If she didn’t know how to protect herself, that was her teacher’s own fault.

Besides, Twilight intended to give Luna a piece of her mind when she next went to bed anyway.

Trixie had never before felt so validated for her chosen scholarly pursuits in her life. She was really doing it! She had Twilight Sparkle on the run! Barring a few close calls, she was winning this fight. Sure, she’d been a little cautious – not nervous or apprehensive – when her archrival had shown up as an alicorn – even if just a fake one – prepared for war, but it didn’t matter. Sooner or later, Twilight Sparkle would make a mistake she could capitalize upon. She couldn’t dodge explosions and traps forever.

The ambient magic shifted and disrupted Trixie’s subspace storage, causing all of her things inside it to burst out of containment.

“Warning: area dimensional anchor detected.”

Annoyed, Trixie muttered, “Yeah, I got that,” as she tidied up the tricks, props, and artifacts dotting the snow. It seemed Twilight Sparkle had somehow managed to set up a ward in-between taking pot shots at the ground in a vain effort to hit her. No matter. I don’t lean on teleportation like a crutch as she does. The loss of access to other dimensional magic was even less of a concern.

As a quick check, a light hop carried Trixie several hooves into the air. Her mobility enchantments were still working properly, so if it became necessary, she could still dodge attacks. She suspected Twilight Sparkle had snuck something else into the erected ward, but without time to analyze it, she would just have to be careful.

Oddly, in the meanwhile, Twilight Sparkle had ascended into the sky high enough to hover over what remained of the cloud cover in the sky. It hid her from sight – at least in the visible spectrum – but that was about it. Unless she intended to drop things using all that gravitational potential, Trixie didn’t see the point. Perhaps she would conjure a blizzard?

Trixie snorted. As if a little snowfall could find me.

Regardless, if Twilight Sparkle was going to put that amount of distance between them and give her so much time to work with, Trixie had a way to finish this. Twilight Sparkle wasn’t the only pony who got to play with lost, ancient magics. So far away, she could safely unleash the spell which, in the infancy of its reconstruction from the fragments she’d found as a filly, had gotten her expelled.

Trixie planted her staff in the snow. She didn’t need the distraction when working such intricate magic, nor did she wish for its assistance at her moment of triumph.

“Niian, create a duplicate of me to mirror everything. And amplify my voice.”

Showing off might not have been the wisest choice, but Trixie was a showpony at heart. Winning meant nothing if it couldn’t be done in style.

Trixie first constructed a fairly standard metamagic spell to contain any magic which passed through it. That would power her attack in due time once it’d collected enough ambient magic. As it charged, she billowed her cape with a bit of wind magic for style. Then while she weaved the magic for her ultimate attack, she recited the entirely unnecessary verbal components that had come with it half out of respect for its original creator and half just because it set her blood on fire.

“Darkness blacker than black and darker than dark, I beseech thee.

“Combine with my deep crimson.

“The time of awakening cometh.

“Justice, fallen upon the infallible boundary, appear now as an intangible distortion!”

Niian interrupted Trixie’s moment. “Warning: large magical buildup detected above.”

Trixie didn’t care. If Twilight Sparkle wanted to pit their final attacks against each other, she couldn’t conceive of a more appropriate way to end this.

“Dance, dance, dance!

“I desire for my torrent of power a destructive force!

“A destructive force without equal!”

A gleeful smile stretched across Trixie’s face wide enough to hurt.

“Return all creation to cinders, and come from the abyss!”

Trixie scooped up Niian and pointed it skyward as she tied the spell into its power source.

“Explosion!”

It started as a pinprick of blinding light far above, a tiny point of energy with density far surpassing the sun’s. Then it expanded. In a blink, it covered the entire sky. Clouds vaporized. Snow melted. Even the sun itself faded into nothing, the light of day proving no match for its own.

It was so beautiful.

The blast wave hit moments later. Niian shielded them against it, the scalding heat, and the subsequent pull of negative pressure toward the epicenter of the blast. Trixie just watched the sky in awe. She’d known it would work. The theory behind it was sound. The mechanics, well tested. But she’d never before had the opportunity to cast the spell in the waking world.

Alone within Princess Celestia’s office, Moon Dancer passed off a written summary of the Evening Guard’s latest field report. She suspected the choice on what course of action to pursue would usually fall under Twilight’s purview, but she’d not signed up to make foreign policy decisions.

“‘The Storm King’?” Princess Celestia arched an eyebrow as she read, and just a hint of her amusement revealed itself in her smile. “It inspires a certain sense of awe, I admit, but his old name suited him better. No matter.” She set the report aside. “The EIS can continue surveillance as is. If he intends to march his army on one of our allies, we will do what we must.”

That sounded sensible as a matter of international relations, but Moon Dancer pressed the point of greater concern. “What about the threat to you and Twilight?”

“With the Staff of Sacanas in our possession, he could hardly use me as a magical battery.” A bit of a smirk entered into Princess Celestia’s smile now. Unsaid was that he would need to subdue her first. “And while everyone knows she’s secretly an alicorn” – she rolled her eyes – “in all honesty, Twilight would be of little use in the unlikely event of her capture.”

Princess Celestia’s expression turned thoughtful as she made a pleased hum. “That said, this does create some intriguing possibilities. Perhaps we can experiment with the staff together tomorrow. It would be good to know its maximum load.”

The ability for Princess Celestia to willingly lend out her own power to others did, in fact, sound incredible. Moon Dancer certainly wouldn’t begrudge her a little sleeping in if she wanted somepony else to cycle night and day for her. How often did that sort of opportunity arise? Once in a lifetime? A generation? An era? It was likely the latter, and Moon Dancer hoped she didn’t miss it.

A flash of light appeared beyond the horizon in the window behind Celestia. A moment later, a strangled cry escaped Moon Dancer when she realized which direction it’d come from. Canterlot had the advantage of a high elevation, but it should not be possible to see anything in the Frozen North from here. Even the superstorms the area created were lost to the distance between them.

“Is something wrong?”

Moon Dancer chuckled nervously. Much like foreign policy, lying to Princess Celestia wasn’t what she’d signed up for. She scrambled for something to say that didn’t involve the bearers fighting amongst themselves, and thankfully, she came up with an actual good excuse. “I, uh, hope you’re not expecting me to be your sparring partner. I have zero combat training.”

If Princess Celestia caught Moon Dancer in the lie, she didn’t call her on it.

Twilight shook her head as she stared up at the gaping hole in the sky where there used to be clouds. How Trixie thought she could completely hide the buildup of magic necessary for such a spell in so short a time, Twilight would never comprehend. The payoff was impressive, to be sure, but it’d made it so easy to find her.

“Well, Trixie, I have to admit that probably would have burned Spike, nevermind me.”

Unconscious on the ground, face first in the snow, Trixie had no snippy response.

“There are reasons why we don’t usually use big, flashy spells like that, you know. Luna must have taught you that. Between yours and mine, you completely missed me teleporting down here.”

Trixie rolled over for better access to air under the direction of Twilight’s magic. The thin layer of ice already forming from meltwater atop the snow snapped and crackled as their weight shifted.

“Even if I’d blocked my own teleportation, my ward was mine to control. If you thought I was stuck up there, well, obviously not.”

Such simple little errors in judgment too often became a pony’s downfall. But by the same token, Trixie’s mistakes were easily corrected. If they ever fought seriously again, she likely wouldn’t repeat them.

“And you.” The Night Guardian Staff levitated closer under Twilight’s direction. “She lost. I’m not going to hurt her. Behave yourself, and just let her rest.” After a few moments, she added a more tentative, “Please?”

Twilight cautiously released the suppression she’d put the staff under. When it didn’t immediately wake Trixie or try anything else, she let out a sigh of relief and then thanked it for its cooperation. She didn’t know if it understood her, but a little possibly pointless politeness wouldn’t hurt anypony.

“What do I do now?”

Sweetie Drops surveyed the table around her. Flash and Spike were toasting the archmage’s victory. Pinkie had already finished with that and moved on to something involving crayons. In her experience, it would result in a party of some sort, hopefully not a victory party. Trixie would probably blow up if she stumbled upon that, both figuratively and perhaps literally.

On the other side of the table, Sweetie Drops whispered quiet nothings and gentle reassurances into her marefriend’s ear while rubbing her back and offering the occasional comforting nuzzle. She’d not been able to prevent Lyra’s panic attack, but she had managed to keep her love from bolting or lashing out any anypony. No, Trixie was not a seapony. No, neither was Equestria’s archmage. No, neither of them were here to drag anypony back to Aquestria. No abyssal horrors had crawled up onto dry land. Everything was going to be okay.

Sweetie Drops didn’t so much believe that last part after today, but she and Lyra could face the looming threat of Nightmare Moon together once they’d gotten through this lesser challenge.

To Sweetie Drops’s left, across from Spike and at what should have been the archmage’s right if it weren’t for this blasted fight, Sweetie Belle had fallen into a deep funk. It was, judging by the gloomy look on her face, worse than that time Rarity had yelled at her for being in the way. Sweetie Drops didn’t know what that was about. Her idol had won, after all. Now wasn’t the best time to ask, however, with Lyra still pulling herself together.

Careful not to let it slip out into reality, Sweetie Drops heaved a long sigh internally. She’d been on missions that had gone to Tartarus faster and harder, but none of them had held the same stakes as this one. Still, she’d do everything she could to make this one end successfully. Right now, that involved comforting her love and hoping Lyra didn’t have any lasting mental scars from this.

The trip back to the lab with Trixie and the Night Guardian Staff in tow was thankfully uneventful. Twilight knew Canterlot would have dozens of reports of the battle by now after that last attack. With any luck, Celestia’s nonappearance meant Moon Dancer had kept the information from getting to her.

When Twilight arrived inside, she conjured up a cloud and tossed Trixie onto it with a cloudwalking spell. She neither knew nor cared right now which room Trixie had taken for a bedroom. If somepony else wanted to drag her off to wherever she belonged, that was just fine by Twilight. If not, that, too, was fine. Twilight honestly couldn’t care less at this point. Onto a nearby lab bench, she deposited the Night Guardian Staff and dumped the rest of Trixie’s stuff onto the ground.

Thus unburdened, Twilight made her way through the compound until she came upon her bedroom. She kicked the door open, slammed it behind her, tossed her blankets aside, and finally collapsed onto her bed. Both physically and magically, she had energy to spare. Emotionally, however, she was exhausted. Today had drained her of all but the last dregs of her ability to pretend everything was going to be okay. She just wanted to sleep and forget, so she did.

Twilight’s dreamscape formed around her without her involvement or permission.

Right. Luna. Twilight heaved a tired sigh. What are the odds she hasn’t already heard about my fight with Trixie?

Only those without hope sought its comfort. With no reason to expect any better luck than she’d had over the past couple weeks, Twilight decided to await Luna’s arrival rather than seek her out. Such was one of the few petty power moves she’d picked up from Celestia and actually bothered to remember, and she certainly felt petty right now.

While she waited, Twilight contemplated the statue of Discord, a recreation of his prison, only a few steps away from her. She’d built it outside and hadn’t had time to either store it or remove it before awakening. It would probably be best to keep it on hoof in case she ever needed it again in the future. Perhaps she’d turn it into the centerpiece of a fountain when she had the time.

For now, however, Twilight had, if Celestia was any measure, a faithful teacher to deal with whose student she’d just laid low and humiliated.

When Luna first appeared from the door to Twilight’s tower, she moved with purpose and with her lips pressed into a thin line but as yet displayed no apparent anger. That boded better than expected. Whether it be by design, nature, or a symptom of her relative isolation, Twilight found she showed her emotions to those around her far more freely than her sister.

Twilight spoke first. “Shouldn’t you be with Trixie?”

“If my presence were welcome.” Luna made no effort to hide the hurt and worry behind those words. “What happened?”

In all honesty, Twilight was unsure. “I didn’t hurt her,” she first assured Luna – not physically, at least – before relaying the events leading up to Trixie’s demand for a fight. The explanation spilled forth without interruption, neither question nor comment. When she finished, Luna gave her a resigned sigh. “What?”

“It’s not my place to say. I only ask you to show Trixie patience. She’s had a difficult life, and we both had a part to play in that.”

Twilight had read enough novels in her short life to know she should insist on a proper explanation. Privacy was all well and good, but whatever Luna had opted not to reveal was clearly an explosive issue – pun not intended – which needed careful handling. “It’s probably going to become even more difficult if I don’t know what I’m getting into.”

“Such is unavoidable, unfortunately. This was a long time coming, and she can no longer kick the can down the road.” A long, tired sigh escaped Luna. “Her demons are her own to confront. I made my own attempt to help her, but I got to her too late and merely exacerbated her struggle.”

So she’s not going to tell me anything. Twilight had hoped for more but got what she’d expected. “And when would the right time to help her have been?” Perhaps Luna would at least answer that.

“Anytime before her expulsion, most likely. Of course, that’s what first drew my attention to her.” Luna offered nothing more than a helpless shrug once she’d said her piece.

But that information, provided she acquired a little more context, had actual value. When she woke, Twilight would have to ask the EIS to perform a background check on Trixie for her to find out what had changed upon her expulsion. Beyond the obvious, of course.

At any rate, now that they’d gotten all that out of the way, Twilight had words for Luna. “You gave Trixie a spellcasting assistant.”

An evil grin grew on Luna’s face. “I did,” she said without a hint of shame. “Did she give you a run for your money?”

“You trained a monster!”

Luna laughed. “Thank you for the compliment. Tell me truly, how close was the battle?”

Twilight huffed in answer. With a little prodding, she said, “Your Lulamoon blew it at the end. Until then, it was the single most frustrating fight of my life. Her illusions were so…” The exact right word escaping her, Twilight settled for an appropriately frustrated growl. “Without Magic on my side, she might have been able to wear me down.”

“Ah, you have no idea how proud I am to hear that.”

“Your pride is directly proportional to the pain in my flank.”

“Yes, yes,” Luna said dismissively. “Trixie and I labored for years to make ‘combat illusionist’ a viable style. That entire school of magic is normally too cumbersome for the fast pace of battle.”

Strictly speaking, there were a number of smaller scale illusions essential to high-level engagements, but Twilight resisted the urge to nitpick. Most illusions did require far too long in general to lay down when every second counted. Of course, the Night Guardian Staff changed the rules. What it lacked in creativity, it made up for in computational power.

“How wonderful to hear all that work was not in vain,” Luna continued with a delighted clap of her hooves to which Twilight just scoffed. “One can never be sure in dreams.”

That sounded wrong to Twilight’s ear. “You never tested her in the waking world?”

“A bit,” Luna admitted, “but we fell out with each other shortly after she retrieved the Night Guardian Staff.”

Luna said nothing more on that subject, and the regret so clear in her voice and on her face kept them silent for a time. Twilight ignored the little voice of sympathy in the back of her mind and took solace in what that revealed. It seemed this division between the two, unless they were playing some vastly complicated game with her to fool Honesty, existed entirely on Trixie’s end. Perhaps, then, not all hope was lost for Celestia’s freedom if Trixie had actively rejected whatever overtures of reconciliation Luna had already made.

“Does Trixie truly still introduce herself as Trixie Lulamoon?”

But there was that. Twilight didn’t know if it provided evidence for Trixie’s continued love for her mentor or if it came from a place of spite. One never really knew with wayward students. Regardless, Twilight answered the question honestly. She saw no reason not to.

Luna fell into a pensive, faraway stare for a time. From the variety of expressions that passed over her, she didn’t know what to make of it either.

Then without warning, Luna broke into a wide grin. “Today is campaign night.”

Twilight ears perked up at the news. Six to eight hours of uninterrupted immersion in another mare’s life and problems sounded like just what she needed right now.

“But you’ve gone to bed early.”

“I’m happy to stay the whole session,” Twilight said wholeheartedly. The waking world, as far as she was concerned, wasn’t her problem until tomorrow morning. “If I drop out before we’re done, I’ll just put myself back to sleep.”

Luna nodded, pleased. “Of course. But to pass the time until the others are ready, might I make a suggestion?”

Curious, Twilight arched an eyebrow and replied, “What did you have in mind?”

“Well…” Extending an arm just so, a staff teleported into Luna’s grasp. Although it didn’t look too similar to the one Trixie had wielded, they both shared a night motif that made the identity of the artifact all too obvious. She rolled her shoulders, and her wings shifted. “You’ve faced the student. How would you like to face the master?”

A matching grin grew on Twilight’s face. She dreamt up a duplicate of her armor and skipped the difficult process of donning it by willing it directly onto her. Next, she teleported them to the top floor of her tower. This, she decided, would be her portal room to other spaces within her dream. She crafted one of a simple circular design much like the entrance to her dreamscape in the tower’s ground floor. It would take them to an endless space with randomly generated terrain. Perhaps in time she would refine it more, but for now she merely covered it with water, grass, and bare rock according to height.

“Impressive for the work of minutes,” Luna said once they’d passed through the portal. “Mathematics truly has come a long way since my banishment. I recall when I would sculpt landscapes largely by hoof. What algorithm did you use?”

“Just Perlin noise.”

Somewhat surprisingly, Luna nodded immediately. “Simple, but effective. Now then, shall we?”

Twilight quickly banished the portal back for the safety of her theoretically indestructible tower. “One question first. My dreamscape has no limit on personal magic use. I’d rather this not devolve into us mindlessly flinging magic around. What limits shall I impose?”

“Upon us both equally, I presume?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “If this is to be anything but a foregone conclusion.” She knew better than to fight alicorns directly as a puny mortal.

“Then let us spar with whatever you are used to. Ambient magic included.”

“You sure you can handle being so reduced, Your Divine Highness?”

Luna laughed. “Why do you think it was my sister who got slapped with the Alicorn Accords?”

That was a fair point, Twilight admitted as she adjusted her dream in this space accordingly. “This does mean only unicorn magic, you know.”

“Acceptable.”

Twilight resisted summoning a copy of Magic. She might need the advantage to compete with Luna’s centuries of experience, but she would first try without it. “Anything else?”

“Only this. En garde!”

Author's Notes:

This story is a crossover with neither Lyrical Nanoha nor KonoSuba, but let’s be real. Trixie and Megumin would be the best of friends, as would Twilight and Nanoha.

On another note, for those of you unaware, this story was originally intended to be written in three separate titles. Now, however, I think I’m just going to write them all under one story, which means the tragedy tag is coming off this. Twilight still screws up big time at the end of the first part, but the ultimate ending is happy (at least for her).

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Chapter Seventeen - Rarity Takes Canterlot

After so many years, it was finally time to sit down and begin tackling the problem once more. There were four barriers to overcome: magnitude, density, resilience, and specificity. The first she’d solved. The second had proven intractable. The third yet remained a mystery. Perhaps the fourth, then, was the place to start.

Ponyville had, per capita, perhaps the busiest train station in Equestria. It sat comfortably atop the main artery of Equestria’s breadbasket just south of the capital. Most commercial traffic thundered by on the lines thankfully far removed from the village’s center, yet it remained unusually well connected to the rest of Equestria in spite of its modest size. A pony could purchase a ticket to anywhere in the country any time of day and expect to be able to leave within the hour.

Such was a major factor why Rarity, a high-end seamstress and designer, could operate out of a town that largely had no need for her services. She was mildly inconvenient to reach for her Canterlot clientele but just a bit out of the way for everypony else. It worked. Not ideally, of course, but she got by.

Rarity hummed a cheery song as she trotted into Ponyville’s train station with a spring in her step. Even at this early hour, the festival crowd going about their business had the platform packed. Luckily, she managed to buy passage to Canterlot and found an open seat on the very next train with plenty of room for all of her luggage. If she’d known she wouldn’t have to travel so lightly, she would have brought more than just the bare essentials!

“Hey, Rarity.” Rainbow Dash flew up to the seat across the aisle and flumped into it with her usual lack of refinement. “What’s up with all the stuff? You moving or something?”

“With just this?” The very thought of it! “No, I’m only visiting Canterlot for now. But soon, if all goes well.”

Surprise showed on Rainbow Dash’s face before it settled into a look of realization. “Oh yeah. The squirt told me Sweetie Belle got herself an apprenticeship from that Index mare. You finally taking custody?”

“Not exactly. It’s…” Rarity had the distinct impression that Twilight no longer cared if anypony knew Index’s true identity, but as she’d not been explicitly released from her vow of silence, she prevaricated. “–complicated.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

Rarity offered Rainbow Dash a sympathetic smile but, knowing how guarded and defensive she could be about her softer side, ended any pursuit of that conversation there. Instead, Rarity indulged a more polite curiosity. “Might I ask what business you have on a train?”

Rather than take any offense, Rainbow Dash had the self-awareness to explain. “I’m escorting Fluttershy. She’s got an interview with some hotshot zookeeper or something at the castle.”

“The castle!” Rarity cried in excitement. “Oh, you simply must tell me everything. Where is she?”

Nodding toward the back of the carriage, Rainbow Dash said, “We’re riding in the royal car.”

Rarity gasped. “The royal car?”

“Yeah, it’s, uh… It’s complicated. Wanna join us?”

As if one even needed to ask! Rarity would never turn down an invitation like that. After gathering her things into her magic, the pair headed back to the royal car.

Upon her entry, Rarity immediately set to inspecting the decor. While the sun motif was unmistakable, as Princess Celestia tended to prefer chariots to trains, the sofas and chairs were sized for a regular pony. At the back, one large cushion on the ground could double as either a bed or comfortable place of rest for the princess. The designers had made some concession to durability, but only the otherwise finest materials were used from the Somnambulan cotton curtains to the Saddle Arabian carpeting. Even the lampshades, though not currently in use, had exquisite embellishments fit for royalty.

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes from the sofa she’d reclined upon. “Yeah, yeah. It’s fancy. Aren’t you at least going to say hello?”

“Oh, how terribly rude of me. Fluttershy, dear, it’s good to see you out and about.”

Fluttershy offered a shy smile in return. “Good morning, Rarity.”

“So then,” Rarity began as she took her seat, “Rainbow Dash tells me you have some exciting news to share. She was a bit vague on the details, but it wouldn’t happen to involve Mr Greenhooves, would it?”

The light of recognition in Fluttershy’s eyes said everything for her.

“Oh my! I had heard he wanted to train his successor for when he retired, but darling, the caretaker of the royal menagerie! I don’t think there’s a more prestigious position in Equestria for animal care.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not that important,” Fluttershy said.

“But it is!” Rarity insisted in perfect honesty. Nothing else even came close. Then remembering who exactly she was talking to, she added, “It may be a quiet job, but it’s very well respected. I simply cannot think of anypony more deserving, although I do wonder how Mr Greenhooves found you. You must admit you don’t like to make waves.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Rarity noticed Rainbow Dash biting on her lip and ever so slightly averting her gaze. Curious. She knows something. Something she’s ashamed of, perhaps? It couldn’t be so simple as dropping Fluttershy’s name, then. Hmm…

Meanwhile, Fluttershy replied, “I don’t know. I’m just happy to have the chance to meet all of the animals in the menagerie. I never thought I would.”

“So what are you headed to Canterlot for, Rarity?” It wasn’t the most elegant way to change the conversation, but social grace never had been one of Rainbow Dash’s strong points.

Well, I suppose this is a mystery for another time. It wouldn’t do to upset Fluttershy by pursuing whatever secret Rainbow Dash held just yet.

Thus Rarity settled in as the train finally departed to explain her own circumstances. While both Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash knew of her, delicately put, difficulties with her parents on some level, she gave them the full story. There would be no containing the gossip once Her Excellency Archmage Twilight Sparkle herself arrived to throw her weight around. She had many talents, but subtlety was not amongst them. As such, Rarity presumed it best they heard the truth of the matter straight from her rather than listen to whatever rumors surfaced around her family.

Then with the background information out of the way, Rarity shared her plans to move the Carousel Boutique to Canterlot so she could continue to look after Sweetie Belle. It did, of course, also line up with her own professional and personal interests, but such was a secondary consideration in the grand scheme of things – a perk, one might say. To do so, however, required her to first find the perfect place to operate out of.

Once she finished, Rainbow Dash had her own surprise to reveal. She, too, would leave Ponyville for Canterlot sometime in the coming summer. Between her, Fluttershy, and Twilight, Rarity would have two of her closest friends and one she hoped to get to know much better so near at hoof. How wonderful!

Even more good news followed. Scootaloo had an invitation to attend school in Canterlot as well, something Sweetie Belle had neglected to inform Rarity of if she knew. Having one of her best friends move with her should, with any luck, go a long way to easing their parents into accepting this change.

The trip between Ponyville and Canterlot passed in what felt like the blink of the eye. When they arrived, if felt like coming home at long last. Brilliant spires of marble and gold rose from the streets. All of the buildings were crafted of proper stone instead of wood and thatching. Gentle streams and well-maintained foliage decorated the city. Despite the passing centuries, tireless maintenance, and changing styles, Canterlot had managed to retain a certain je ne sais quoi from its construction in the early Solar Era. The only place in Equestria – no, the world – with even half of its magnificence would be Manehattan, and nowhere could compete with its artistic majesty.

A servant from the castle awaited Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash when they stepped off the train, offering to take their luggage for them. Fluttershy, sticking very close to Rainbow Dash, mutely nodded while the latter, as was her flighty nature, had brought nothing with her.

“Oh, yeah,” Rainbow Dash said. She whispered something to Fluttershy, receiving a nod in return. “Hey, Rarity. Want to crash at the castle with us?”

Rarity was very proud of herself for not fainting, but only just.

The trip to the castle passed quickly even if their assistant had a little trouble carrying their luggage. The guards posted at the gate let them pass without issue, and they were shown to a guest room easily large enough to accommodate all three of them. From what Rarity had heard, she assumed it was one of the nicer guest quarters available, perhaps only a single step removed from the ambassadorial suites. She had a sneaking suspicion that the generosity had something to do with whatever Rainbow Dash was hiding, but she again opted not to press while Fluttershy was around.

Speaking of whom, Rainbow Dash dragged Fluttershy off to the kitchens while muttering something about taking advantage of the opportunity. Rarity, still needing to unpack, remained behind. More importantly, she needed a proper dress or a few accessories in a pinch if she were to stay here. Had she known in advance, she would have made something special. Alas, she would just have to make do.

A knock came at the door while Rarity was making her final decision on which hat to wear. She quickly threw on the the pink, floral one and called for her guest to enter.

“Oh, sorry, I think I have the wrong room.”

“Perhaps not, I…” When Rarity turned and realized who she was speaking to, she slipped into a bow as quickly as she could without any loss of grace. “Would you perchance be looking for Rainbow Dash, Your Highness?”

“Yes, actually,” Princess Mi Amore Cadenza replied. "The guard informed me of her arrival with Fluttershy…” She trailed off with an inquiring look.

“I’m Rarity. We bumped into each other on the train to Canterlot, and they invited me to stay with them tonight. I believe they’re currently in the kitchens.”

Princess Mi Amore Cadenza’s laughter had a lightness too it more often associated with a mare half her age. And now that Rarity stopped to look at her properly, she certainly looked more like a mare in her mid twenties rather than her early forties. Rarity had seen pictures of her before in the newspaper, of course, but photographers always tried to capture royalty in their best light. Seeing her in person was remarkably different.

“I should have expected something like that. Oh well, I can speak with her later. A pleasure to meet you, Rarity. I’m Princess Cadance.” Judging by the slight strain on the emphasis, it would seem that the rumors were true. Princess Cadance rather disliked her full name, which was understandable, really. It was quite a mouthful. “What brings you to Canterlot?”

“Business both personal and professional. Does the name Sweetie Belle mean anything to you yet?”

Princess Cadance’s eyes lit up in recognition. “My daughter and nephew’s pen pal. That would make you her…”

“Older sister. She and I will be moving here after the solstice, so I need to find a new building for my boutique.”

“Oh! Of course. You’re the fashion designer from Ponyville.”

Suppressing her glee to a more respectful and controlled smile, Rarity dipped into a brief bob with a bright, “At your service,” in acknowledgment of the recognition. She’d known she’d truly begun to attract attention in the industry, but to think royalty had heard of her!

“Why the move, if I may ask?”

With no interest in airing her family’s dirty laundry in front of a princess, Rarity merely replied with the heart of the matter. “Twilight decided to take my sister on as her protégé.”

Princess Cadance’s eyes went wide, but the words she tried to form never left her lips.

“As I understand it, the arrangement would be similar to the one she had with Princess Celestia.”

A dry snort met that. “She’s not trying to press you into the guard, is she?”

Rarity answered the question with an amused smile. “Not my calling, I’m afraid.” It might be best not to mention that she did possess some training in the martial arts to keep fit. “I do suspect she’s interested in employing me as her personal artificer, however. As concerns enchanted clothing, at least.”

“If I had a bit for every time she said she doesn’t have time for that…” Princess Cadance shook her head. “Well, Rarity, I think you and I should get to know one another better. Would you care for a tour of the castle?”

“I would love one, Your Highness, if I would not take time away from more important affairs.”

Princess Cadance waved the concern away with a wing. “Nonsense. If Twilight treats Sweetie Belle anything like how Aunt Celestia treated her, we’ll be as good as family before too long.” She turned and invited Rarity to follow her before pausing. “Oh, uh, just don’t marry Blueblood like Shining married me.”

Despite herself, Rarity snickered. There certainly was some history between him and Twilight. She must have heard at least a dozen different accounts of the story. Not that it was of any true concern. Prince Blueblood had already married years ago.

As they walked through the guest wing of the castle, Rarity snuck glance after glance before her curiosity fully overcame her. “Strictly between mares,” she began, “if we’re to be as good as family, how is it you look not a day over twenty-five?”

“Oh, my husband doesn’t allow me to age.”

Rarity had no idea how to respond to that.

A snicker escaped Princess Cadance a few seconds later. With the ruse broken, she explained in full. “I’m only half joking. It’s one of the perks of marrying into a family of extraordinarily gifted unicorns. Shining and I locked our physical ages years ago. If I recall correctly, Twilight mentioned doing the same herself sometime last year. I know she was badgering the educational department about it for a while before throwing her hooves up and storming out. The details are probably in her textbook, if you’ve ever heard of it, but to be honest, you’d be better off asking her if you want to know more. She’d probably be willing to cover you until Sweetie Belle can do it for you.”

“Hmm, perhaps I should have read that book myself before I gifted it to her.”

Princess Cadance laughed. “It is titled 103 Spells Every Unicorn Should Know.”

So it was. One might suppose it wise to listen to the archmage on matters of magic.

The tour Princess Cadance led Rarity on was everything she’d ever dreamt it would be and more. She got to see the throne room, the archives, the great hall, Twilight’s tower, and even the royal apartments, including both Princess Celestia’s personal study and the practically adjacent room where Twilight had grown up.

But then came the art gallery! On display was Princess Celestia’s personal collection from across the centuries. There were sculptures. There were paintings. There were brittle parchments bearing the original copies of poems. Oh, and the stained glass windows were simply to die for!

“Is that Nimble Hooves’s As the Sun Rises?” Rarity had never thought she’d get to see the priceless relic in person. “Oh, such bold strokes of the brush! And the colors! It truly captures the beauty of the dawn, and yet you can feel the conflicting sorrow and resolve underlaying the depiction of Princess Celestia.”

There was not enough time in the day to truly appreciate the history unfolding before Rarity’s eyes. Before she even had a chance to give voice to a few of her curiosities about the painting, her gaze landed onto another treasure. It was a more recent creation but would, she knew, be no less prized a few centuries down the line.

“The Faithful Students,” Princess Cadance stated. “Auntie says it’s not entirely accurate, but every one of her protégés from Sparkler and Twilight all the way to Twilight Sparkle is at least represented.”

Not quite able to peel her eyes off the painting, Rarity asked, “They wouldn’t happen to be her namesake, would they?”

Princess Cadance gave it some thought before replying. “I don’t believe she’s related to Sparkler in any significant manner. I’d have to check to be sure. But for what it’s worth, she is the matrilinear descendant of the original Twilight. The family passed the name down in an unbroken chain, which makes it extraordinarily easy to track through history. Even so, when you travel back so many generations, ancestry starts to lose any real meaning. Auntie didn’t even know until Twilight wrote a report about it.”

That certainly sounds like something she would do. “Do you know what the inaccuracies are?”

“What you expect, I imagine.” Princess Cadance pointed to the third student with one of her primaries. “Wrong eye color.” She moved to the sixth. “Wrong shade of coat.” Then the eighth. “Way too tall.” The fifteenth. “Wrong gender.”

“What?” How could somepony possibly get that wrong? Rarity did recall Twilight mentioning the possibilities of shapeshifting, but still.

Princess Cadance shrugged and merely said, “Don’t know the story myself,” before moving on to the next error. “Pegasus. Assassinated young and posthumously given a horn in most historical records despite Auntie’s wrath.”

Rarity flinched. Tribalism did tend to manifest most often in unicorns.

“There might be more, but I’m not an expert.” For a moment, Princess Cadance’s feather lingered on the space between Twilight and her direct predecessor centuries ago. “We should send this back to the painter for corrections.”

“Better while you can than having to explain for the rest of time,” Rarity offered. She imagined such problems haunted Princess Celestia like a gray hair.

Then Rarity’s eye fell onto one of the great stained glass windows spanning from the floor to the edge of the vaulted ceiling. It featured Twilight prominently in her battle against the Griffon Kingdom in a dazzling display of light and color.

“Auntie likes to commission these to commemorate the major events and triumphs of her reign.”

“And Twilight still doesn’t know this one exists,” a regal, new voice added. Both mirth and a touch of exasperation lived in it.

The moment Rarity saw who had joined them, she slipped into an even deeper bow than she’d given Princess Cadance. Before she could say anything, however, the princess commanded her to rise and carried on with her commentary.

“I meant it to be a surprise. Privately, I would have enjoyed her fluster when she noticed. But alas, my dear archmage has little appreciation for the arts.” Princess Celestia chuckled at some private joke before turning her full attention back onto Rarity. “Cadance?”

“Oh yes. This is Rarity.”

Princess Celestia’s eyes immediately lit up. “Sweetie Belle’s elder sister?”

In hindsight, of course Twilight had told her mentor she’d taken on a student of her own. She’d probably gone to Princess Celestia seeking advice. But that was neither here nor there. Rarity, however, was not the first to overcome her surprise.

“You knew?” Princess Cadance asked with a little stomp of her hoof. “Auntie, you have to tell me these things!”

Despite the almost sacrilegious demand, Princess Celestia offered a laughing apology. “Will you be in town tomorrow evening, Rarity?”

While she had made no plans to linger beyond however long it took her to find a new place of business, Rarity had no intention of turning down whatever royal invitation the question implied. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Wonderful. In that case, could I impose upon you for dinner tomorrow?”

Was this really happening? It was! “It would be my pleasure.”

Princess Celestia nodded. “I recently organized for you and your sister’s apartment to be prepared. It may not be fully ready yet, but it should be available to you.”

Rarity bowed shortly as she shared her gratitude, after which Princess Celestia excused herself to return to the affairs of state.

“Fluttershy, dear, please pick up the pace.” Rarity could understand her discomfort with crowds, but really, it wasn’t like anypony here would even notice she existed unless she physically bumped into them. That was just how big cities were. “If we tarry, we’ll miss our chance to view the building I have my eye on.”

Lazily flying alongside them, Rainbow Dash added her two bits. “We wouldn’t be in a rush if you hadn’t spent four hours trying on dresses.”

Rarity scoffed. “Darling, one does not show up underdressed to dine with the princess. If I had only known or if I had more time, I would have brought one of my own designs appropriate to the occasion.” She sighed. Even with what she’d bought, she’d still need to perform some minor alterations herself to adjust the fit before this evening. “Desperate times calls for desperate measures.”

A whispered exchange between the two pegasi trailing behind resulted in a giggle and a groan. Rarity, however, paid the two no mind and pressed on toward the office building of her possible future landlord.

Not too long later, they were on the ground floor of what Rarity just knew would be her new Canterlot Carousel. It had all the floor space she needed, the perfect dais for private fashion shows, a private area well suited for fittings, and even an internal balcony between floors. The upper story she easily envisioned turning into a work room and storage. With her residence at the castle, there would be no danger of clutter. She would have to do a considerable amount of decorating, of course, but that had never been in question no matter where she went. Assuming the building came with no restrictions on repainting, she would take it.

Reading and signing the rental agreement took far less time than Rarity expected. The price was quite a bit higher than she was used to, but such was the nature of moving to the city. Ponyville didn’t exactly boast of its high property values. In time, perhaps she would simply offer to buy the building outright.

“Well?” Rainbow Dash asked when Rarity met her and Fluttershy back outside.

Rarity beamed. “Signed, sealed, and delivered. The Canterlot Carousel is one step closer to open for business.” Next, she needed to hire a team to pack, transport, and unload all of her equipment from Ponyville. Or maybe it would be best to paint first. Regardless, there was also the matter of what to do with the Carousel Boutique. She had so many fond memories there. Maybe she would simply retain ownership and repurpose it as a country retreat.

“Congratulations,” Fluttershy said. “I’m glad you finally have the chance to live your dream.”

“Thank you, dear. I hope I can say the same myself?”

“Oh my, yes. The menagerie isn’t quite the animal sanctuary I was hoping for, but it’s so peaceful and open. So free. Mr Greenhooves won’t make his final decision for a little while yet, but I think I made a good impression once I worked up my courage.”

Rarity, excited, swept forward and pulled Fluttershy into a hug. “Oh, darling, this is so wonderful. I don’t know what I would have done without my spa date.”

A long groan, clearly with as much boredom as a pony could put into it, emanated from above. “Yeah, yeah. Everypony’s happy. Can we go home now?”

Smirking, Rarity said, “You could, but I thought I’d treat you two to a bit of pampering. A mare has to look her best, especially before dining with royalty.”

“Ugh… Pass!”

Rarity and Fluttershy exchanged a look before breaking down into giggles.

“Perhaps I could offer to take Fluttershy off your hooves for today?” Rarity suggested. She would be heading back to Ponyville tomorrow unless something came up, and she did, after all, have her own apartment in the castle with a spare bedroom.

This, however, was not to be. “I’m sorry, Rarity, but I really should be getting back to Ponyville. Who knows what trouble my animal friends could have gotten into while I’ve been gone.”

That worry would certainly prevent Fluttershy from properly enjoying a trip to the spa. Rarity knew how she could get about her animals. Thus after she’d collected her things from the castle, they made their way toward Canterlot Central Station, where Rarity saw them off.

Alone now, Rarity asked around for a reputable salon. Despite her teasing, she didn’t need a full spa treatment to prepare for tonight, only a little touching up and some assistance with styling her mane. It only took her a few minutes to settle on what popular opinion suggested was her best option and even less time to get directions.

Upon her arrival, Rarity managed to talk her way into a quick session without an appointment. It might have involved a few tears, a dramatized retelling of her predicament, and a little outright bribery for the rush in the form of a tip, but she managed it. In a year or so, as it was in Ponyville at Aloe and Lotus’s spa, she would never have this problem again. She only needed to first establish her reputation and build some rapport within the beautician community in town.

It was not long after she sat down when the mare at the next station over spoke with the lingering hint of a Prench accent. “Dinner with Princess Celestia?”

Rarity kept her head still but shifted her gaze to the side. In the adjacent seat, she found a lovely unicorn mare. Her pure white coat matched the highlights in her soft pink mane. “Fleur? Oh my, it’s been moons. I trust you’ve been taking good care of my creations.”

“Of course. A fine dress should be as treasured as any work of art. But the princess?”

Humming to give herself a bit of time, Rarity considered how much she should say. There would be no hiding Sweetie Belle’s presence or purpose at the castle when the time came, of course, but a determined pony could discover the full truth before then if she shared any version of it. Twilight likely wouldn’t want that, even if most of the ponies she interacted with in Ponyville already knew Index’s true identity. Princess Cadance was one thing. She was Twilight’s family, and so Rarity had thought nothing of it. Fleur, on the other hoof, had no relation.

“The circumstances are not my secret to tell, I’m afraid. Suffice it to say that Her Highness wishes to speak with me about something on which I can offer a unique perspective.”

“Ooh, intrigue! Ah, but this will drive me mad. Might I at least have a clue?”

Rarity knew the pain of a secret dangled just out of reach, but she held fast. “My lips are sealed.”

“How cruel you are!” Fleur cried in mock accusation.

“If it helps,” Rarity began, “it won’t remain secret for long. Once it’s announced, the news will spread faster than gossip.”

“Impossible!”

“Yet true.”

A few moments passed before both mares broke into laughter with a few added snickers from their stylists who had, up until that point, politely worked in silence while they spoke.

“We must catch up while you’re in town,” Fleur firmly stated. “I lack the time today and tomorrow, but perhaps we could meet at the garden party the day after?”

In all the excitement since Twilight had come to Ponyville, Rarity had entirely forgotten the Canterlot Garden Party had drawn near. After the Grand Galloping Gala, it was the premier event amongst high society. And she’d just received an implicit invitation!

Rarity breathed both deeply and silently to retain her poise. It wouldn’t do to react too strongly. “To be honest, I hadn’t planned to stay so long, but I should be able to rearrange my schedule.” If nothing else, she could organize for her new boutique to be cleaned from top to bottom and then painted tomorrow while she waited. “Yes, I do believe I can make time.”

The moment had at last arrived. Rarity gave her dress one last look over in the mirror and flattened a wrinkle. She should have just asked Rainbow Dash to fly to Ponyville and back to retrieve one of her own designs. Her mane looked fine, however, as did her tail. So assured, she stepped out through the door of her apartment and followed the servant who’d been sent to retrieve her.

The princess’s private dining room was more modest than Rarity had expected. Whoever had arranged it had obviously done so with taste and care, of course, but the overall atmosphere was – how would one put it politely? – rather homely. The portraits, photos, and awards on display clearly held personal significance over anything else. One only needed a quick survey to know that. One photo had an exasperated Princess Celestia pulling a young, nonplussed Twilight out of a gelatin monster. Another depicted Princess Cadance and Twilight, both less than half their current age, napping together, manes askew, with the former drooling all over the pillow and the latter with her face buried in a book. That was prime blackmail material on both of them.

While Rarity was sure there was a story behind everything present, some of which she might very well hear soon enough, Princess Celestia entered the room and drew her attention away. She only made it halfway into a bow before the princess waved the formalities away and then invited her to sit. The table contained the veritable feast necessary for a pony of Princess Celestia’s stature, all placed in stasis until served unless she was much mistaken. While the presentation was unexpected, it did all appear positively scrumptious.

“I apologize if you were expecting a formal, full-course dinner, but even in casual conversation, this table often overhears sensitive information I would prefer not to risk becoming rumor amongst the castle staff. Or worse.”

“Perfectly understandable, Your Highness,” Rarity replied. She’d not thought of that, but considering who and what they were likely to discuss, it made sense. This was far closer to what she was used to anyway.

Once they were seated and had acquired what they wished to eat first, Rarity with a few tips and suggestions from Princess Celestia, conversation naturally began to flow.

“Please tell me about yourself, Rarity. I know a little about your sister, but Twilight only briefly mentioned commissioning you to make a dress for her.”

“Oh, well, it’s a set of magical robes, actually.”

Princess Celestia rolled her eyes, clearly feeling that she should have known better.

“I work as a fashion designer and seamstress out of Ponyville. Or I did, rather, what with the upcoming move to Canterlot. Regardless, when Twilight and I were first getting to know one another, our conversation drifted to the gala. I mentioned a few of the ensembles I’ve put together for it over the years, and she recalled the wardrobe I created for Octavia Melody.”

“Those dresses are your work?” Rarity nodded and nearly squealed and fainted when Princess Celestia added, “Very impressive. If their order of production is the same as their order of first appearance, your skills have only grown. In a decade’s time, you might very well have reached the top of your industry.”

“I – oh my! Thank you for the compliment, Your Highness. I hope I can live up to your praise. Twilight has opened a whole new world to me. I never knew I could literally sew magic into my work. The possibilities! The spell designs are beyond me” – at least for the moment – “but Twilight kindly offered to help with any reasonable project.”

The surprise showed clearly on Princess Celestia’s face. “Really? I knew she had an interest in the field, but she already has so many other commitments. Where she finds the time is one of life’s greatest mysteries.”

“Well, she did say she would leave the sewing to me.” And however disappointing, for Rarity had quite enjoyed working with Twilight on their test project where their passions intersected, that might be for the best. She had no training in the art nor any apparent natural talent for design.

Princess Celestia emitted a considering hum before nodding. “Yes, that would do it.” She paused for a spoonful of soup before changing the subject. “Twilight told me she met your sister after saving her life but neglected to mention how.”

“She and her friends were helping a friend of mine, and things got a little out of hoof as they usually do when those fillies get together. They accidentally caused a stampede that passed through town. While they were helping to control its direction, she stumbled, and Twilight pulled her out before she could be trampled.”

After a few moments of bemused silence, Princess Celestia hesitantly asked, “Are such things normal for Ponyville? You sound…unshaken.”

“Oh yes. It’s on the lighter side of things, really. We had a cockatrice wander into town only a few days ago, and there was the parasprite infestation before that. The vampire fruit bats. The ursa minor.”

Princess Celestia nearly choked on her soup.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. Yes, just–” A brief application of magic cleared Princess Celestia’s throat. “My apologies. I never realized things were so bad. And Ponyville is so close to Canterlot.”

Rarity quickly absolved Princess Celestia of any blame. “Half of the incidents are our own fault. Besides, things usually resolve themselves on their own well enough.” In all honesty, she suspected some branch of the government was secretly operating in town to deal with the monster attacks and some of the village’s internal problems, but she’d never been able to determine exactly who was involved.

“I see…” After a few moments to mull over the information, Princess Celestia warily asked, “And how did you and Twilight meet?”

“Oh, nothing so dramatic,” Rarity said reassuringly. “I invited her to the spa to thank her for saving my sister.”

Princess Celestia’s eyes widened ever so slightly as though surprised Twilight had accepted. And when Rarity thought about it for a moment, she supposed in hindsight she was a bit surprised as well considering how busy Twilight usually kept herself.

“She enjoyed the experience, I believe, and we spoke of nothing for some time. Eventually, circumstances led her to accidentally reveal that she possesses regalia, and she ultimately revealed her identity to me when I pressed. We’ve spent some time together since, and I’ve much enjoyed her company. I realize her position keeps her busy, but I do hope she can set some more aside after the solstice for something even as simple as afternoon tea.”

Much to Rarity’s surprise, Princess Celestia brushed a tear from her eye.

“Oh, Princess, are you okay? Have I offended you or–”

Princess Celestia held up a hoof for silence. Then with a warm smile so much more genuine than her usual calm one, she said, “I never thought I would see Twilight making friends. Moon Dancer only has a tentative connection–”

Moon Dancer? It took a few moments for Rarity to recall the article in the newspaper about the mare nopony had ever heard of who’d stepped up to fill Twilight’s role in Equestria in her absence.

“–Sweetie Belle is yet only her student, and she sounded so unsure about Pinkie Pie. Please be patient with her after the solstice when she returns to her position. She has a lot of stress in her life, little time for herself, and often forgets that the world has more to offer than responsibilities and research.”

“Of course.” Being a workaholic herself at times, especially when her orders piled up, Rarity sympathized. She could barely imagine how consuming Twilight’s role in Equestria could be, and the added knowledge that the consequences, both good and ill, of her decisions could and often did ripple across the world would hardly ease the pressure. “But perhaps Princess Luna’s return will ease her burden. After some time to adjust to the modern era, of course.”

“Perhaps,” Princess Celestia allowed even if she gave no sign of believing it. “Speaking of little sisters, how is yours? Twilight has yet to ask me to help her, but my concerns remain. Generosity can be a heavy burden.”

Did that come from personal experience? It must, surely. Rarity only vaguely recalled Twilight mentioning getting her information from Princess Celestia, but Rarity did remember having that impression.

“At the risk of sounding… Hmm…” What word fit best? Careless? Neglectful? Neither were quite right. “Remiss, perhaps? Regardless, I’m somewhat glad Sweetie Belle bonded with Generosity before I could. As useful as telepathy is, the difficulty with crowds is something with which I would have no end of trouble. She only had it for a couple days before Twilight took her and the other bearers out of town, but she was practically drowning herself in a soothing tea Twilight recommended at the time.”

“The tea actually covers the taste of the potion involved,” Princess Celestia corrected. Naturally, she then added that it was a brew of her own design to help mitigate the negative effects of the Element. “But how curious. You could have borne Generosity?”

Rarity nodded. “Yes, we discovered that shortly after Twilight bonded Sweetie Belle with it. I would rather have taken the responsibility upon myself, but we make do with the cards life deals us. Twilight assures me she’ll be able to protect my sister should the worst come to pass, so…” She shrugged and took a sip from her drink. If the Archmage of Equestria couldn’t keep Sweetie Belle safe, she didn’t know who could.

“She’s said as much to me as well despite refusing to elaborate on the how. In my case, she made the claim about the entire world, but I have some confidence that encompasses your sister.”

Rarity smiled at the quip and fired one back. “Perhaps. My sister and her friends are such wandering bundles of chaos that I sometimes wonder. I don’t suppose Twilight mentioned the Crusaders to you?”

“Yes, actually. ‘Discord’s offspring’, I believe is the term she used.”

What more fitting description could there be? At Princess Celestia’s request, Rarity shared some of the Crusaders’ more memorable tales, most of which inevitably ended with them covered in tree sap regardless of what disasters followed in their wake. She asked in particular after the story behind their setting the lake on fire. That entire incident Ponyville tried to forget, but Rarity supposed it did a fine job exemplifying the Crusader’s knack for getting into trouble.

In exchange, Princess Celestia interwove her own stories of the antics Twilight got up to, both at the Crusaders’ age and as a grown mare. Rarity already knew about the more public ones, but she didn’t dismiss the opportunity for a firsthoof account. It wasn’t long before she wondered exactly what kind of influence Twilight would have upon her sister. Really, who used high-level magic to sneak past guards down to the kitchens for midnight snacks and a quick stop at the library?

Time passed in easy conversation as most of Rarity’s nervousness around the immortal ruler of Equestria faded into the background. If she were to be perfectly honest, it felt somewhat like talking to Applejack or Rainbow Dash. Although their circumstances differed, both intimately knew how tricky her relationship with Sweetie Belle could be. Neither entirely a mother nor entirely a sister, the nebulous role she filled at times left her adrift and uncertain of how to define its nature. She wondered what exactly Princess Celestia thought of her own relationship with Twilight, but Rarity didn’t inquire. It was too personal a question for a first meeting, she felt, but perhaps another time.

Once they began to run out of food and they’d swapped dozens of stories, Princess Celestia asked, “How have you found Canterlot during your stay?”

“Oh, I love it! And I arrived just in time. I intend to attend the theater tomorrow to catch The Phantom of the Opera, and Fleur de Lis invited me to attend the garden party the day after to catch up with one another.”

Rarity caught the spark of interest in Princess Celestia’s eye.

“I make a habit of knowing my clients to provide them with the attire best suited to them. Fleur has hired me to make several of her gala dresses, but until today, we’d not bumped into one another since I finished this year’s.”

With a hint of eagerness and a slight air of mystery, neither of which Rarity understood the origin, Princess Celestia asked, “Do you have much business in Canterlot?”

Nodding, Rarity replied, “Quite a sizable fraction of my clientele lives here. When the gala approaches, it jumps to over half.”

“Mostly mares, I assume?”

“Yes. I’m known primarily for my dress designs, but I have some experience with male fashion.”

“Any names I might recognize?”

As none of her clients had ever asked for confidentiality outside of those looking for more intimate apparel that would never leave the bedroom, Rarity felt no hesitance in rattling off a list of names. Mostly she stuck to those mares who attended the gala and thus had a fair chance of encountering Princess Celestia while wearing the dress in question.

Princess Celestia had a thoughtful look about her. “I confess how well connected you are surprises me. Twilight has never, shall we say, meshed well with socialites.”

Thinking back to when they’d first met and the slight hostility which Rarity had politely ignored, she said, “Yes, I can imagine.”

“In truth, Twilight is largely isolated from that side of political life.

Now Rarity understood where Princess Celestia was going. “I could make a few introductions.” The difficult part would be deciding to who. As popular as she was with Equestria at large, Twilight possessed no love amongst the aristocracy.

The princess, it seemed, had other ideas. “I would not strain my burgeoning friendship with her on a doomed effort were I in your position. Her isolation is blithely self-imposed. But if you wanted to act on her behalf amongst such circles…”

It took Rarity a few seconds to find her voice. “Your Highness, are you asking me to spy for her?”

“Not exactly.” The smile fell from Princess Celestia’s face as she locked eyes with Rarity. “I shall be direct. It behooves me to prepare for the worst. Piece by piece, I have largely passed responsibility for the executive arm of Equestria’s government over to Twilight. Its loyalty to her is eclipsed only by the devotion it shows me. If my sister takes my place, Twilight will in all but name become the ruling princess of Equestria. The responsibility will be that much more difficult for her if she has no loyal friend able to move within the aristocracy’s ranks.”

“Oh. I – oh my.” That was a lot to take in.

Princess Celestia rose to her hooves. “You are under no obligation, but please take some time to think about it.” Sparing one last glance at the table now nearly stripped bare, she snared the last slice of cake in her magic. “Thank you for your company this evening, Rarity. It was a pleasure to meet one of Twilight’s friends.”

The Canterlot Garden Party was everything Rarity had imagined it could be. All of the most important ponies in Equestria had gathered from across the country. They spoke of everything of import with nothing left out. They spread the word of new additions to families through births, weddings, and engagements. They spoke of upcoming legislation, changes in policy, and economics. The more intellectually inclined discussed new advances in science or engaged in philosophical debate. Many had an active interest in fashion, but all were dressed in the most fabulous outfits, a few of Rarity’s own design.

It was paradise, and Rarity couldn’t be happier. The sun shone down upon her, and fortune smiled. Oh, how life had changed ever since Twilight had rescued Sweetie Belle!

As they moved about the gathering together, Fleur introduced Rarity to most of the ponies they met, including her ‘we’re certainly not married’ husband, Fancy Pants. Rarity was aware of a running wager on when they would finally tie the knot, but they both preferred to remain officially unattached for now. Fleur was, after all, the Prench ambassador to Equestria. Marrying an Equestrian duke so deeply involved in the government would present a potential conflict of interest neither wished to deal with just yet. So long as they maintained the status quo, both governments were content to overlook any indiscretions.

So it was that Rarity and Fleur, accompanied by Fancy Pants, approached a conversation already in progress.

“–the price of Somnambulan cotton is going to skyrocket. If I were you, I would buy all you can before the summer heat rolls in and exacerbates the drought when the local weather ponies can’t keep up.”

“Were I in your place,” Fancy Pants led, “I’d not attempt to corner the market. Droughts come and go, and sometimes they end without warning.”

The pony who had been speaking, a monocle wearing stallion who Rarity recognized as the industrialist, Laissez Faire, paused to reflect upon Fancy Pants’s remark. “You’re suggesting the princess might involve herself?”

With a nod, Fancy Pants said, “These last few summers have been hotter than usual and the winters warmer. If somepony pointed that out to Princess Celestia, I’m sure she would resolve the matter.”

The other pony present Rarity recognized as Golden Fleece. She sometimes purchased raw materials from the mare’s company. “Hmm… You may be right. With careful timing, it would even be possible to deliver a crippling blow to the competition.”

“Only if the matter resolved itself within the year,” Laissez Faire said, “which seems unlikely. The princess doesn’t have the same sense of time as we do. If you sit idle for too long, you’ll have no income yourself.”

Rarity cleared her throat, and all attention was directed toward her. She only knew enough about economics to run her own business, but she could point out the obvious that all three seemed to be forgetting. “What if another sorceress took matters into her own hooves?”

“They would need to pay for the magic and would still need to raise their prices to recoup their losses.” Laissez Faire hummed thoughtfully as he mulled the idea over. “Perhaps not as drastically, however, depending on how heavily the drought until then impacted their crops.”

“True,” Rarity admitted, “but there is one sorceress who performs such public services for free.”

Fleur caught on first. “The archmage, you mean. She has been sighted all over Equestria. If she wanders so far south as Somnambula, you may be right. The duty would otherwise fall to her regent, no?”

The idea proved unpopular. “Her Excellency,” Golden Fleece began, although she managed to make the style sound like an insult, “is in seclusion in the Frozen North. Her substitute is some nopony her ego approves of.”

Rarity could certainly see how somepony could reach that conclusion without the knowledge she possessed. That massive, unexplained explosion in the Frozen North did make one suspicious, and Moon Dancer did bear a striking resemblance to Twilight. But she was in anything but seclusion, and Rarity couldn’t imagine her asking somepony unqualified to fill in for her during her absence.

However, before Rarity could properly form a counterargument, Laissez Faire snorted. “Twilight Sparkle is effective, without question. It’s the one good thing she has going for her. Her regent doesn’t even have that.”

Rarity opened her mouth to rebuke these cads for their unwarranted words, but then even Fancy Pants had a go against poor Moon Dancer. “I must say I was disappointed with her response to the Macintosh Hills incident. The damage to Strawberry Point could have been avoided entirely with a more timely and measured plan. She could have at least taken care of it herself instead of deploying those ruffians the archmage keeps in her service.”

That was hardly fair, surely. Moon Dancer was new to the job, and short of Princess Celestia herself, who possessed even half of Twilight’s ability? And what ‘ruffians’ was Fancy Pants speaking of? Not the Evening Guard, certainly!

“At least they’re not skulking about the castle,” Golden Fleece added. “Well, most of them.”

Fleur’s attention suddenly shifted to some far off point beyond the crowd. Leaning into Fancy Pants and speaking softly, although loud enough to be heard by all, she said, “Do excuse me, mon chéri, but I just spotted a new arrival who would love to meet Rarity.”

With a farewell nuzzle from Fancy Pants and a brief exchange of pleasantries between him and Rarity, Fleur pulled them away from the conversation back into the crowd. When it became clear that they were headed nowhere in particular except away, Rarity breathed out her relief to have made a graceful exit rather than unleashing a scathing castigation upon such uncouth behavior.

“The archmage? You are a fan?” Fleur asked with only curiosity in her voice.

“A friend.”

For a moment, Fleur paused in her stride. “Vraiment? Pardon, I did not believe she had friends.”

Rarity offered Fleur an understanding smile to show she’d taken no offense. From how Twilight had reacted to the offer of friendship she’d made a mere week ago, Fleur likely wasn’t far off from the truth. “I suspect she has more than even she believes, but I think I’m among the first to have her return the affection.”

“And how did you manage that?”

Rarity’s smile slipped into a mysterious smirk. “Fleur, darling, I do believe I told you my lips are sealed.” After the solstice, she could share what parts of the story weren’t classified. Until then, however, she had nothing to say.

“And you have grown no less cruel since, teasing a mare so. This answers one question but opens so many more. No wonder Princess Celestia wished to speak with you.”

Just for fun, Rarity said, “I can neither confirm nor deny the subject of our conversation was Twilight Sparkle.”

“Oh, you!” Fleur bumped Rarity with her shoulder as they walked. “Do forgive Fancy Pants for his words. He can be critical when those with power misstep. He may disagree with many of your friend’s methods and policies, but I assure you he has nothing but respect for her abilities, both magical and administrative.”

“Well, we all say things we don’t mean from time to time.”

Fleur thanked Rarity for her patience and consideration. “But it’s probably best not to discuss the archmage here. Fancy Pants’s opinion of her is… What’s the word…”

“An outlier?”

“Oui. Any mention of her is only likely to upset you.”

It was nothing Rarity hadn’t expected, but she still heaved a sigh. “And you?”

“Rarity, I’m Prench. I saw what she did to the griffons. She terrifies me.”

Rarity chuckled at Fleur’s blunt delivery. “Understandable.”

“For what it’s worth, on a personal level, I admire her dedication to her family.”

“Oh, yes. She’s so good with Sweetie Belle, and Celestia knows that filly can be difficult.” Rarity could only imagine Twilight was an equally wonderful mother and aunt despite all of the complications in her life.

Curious, Fleur asked, “Sweetie Belle? Your sister, no?” Rarity nodded, and she hummed as though she’d caught onto a secret, but when pressed, she said nothing. Instead, she asked, “Shall we retire for the evening? I feel we’ve hardly had time all afternoon to catch up.”

After considering the suggestion for a few seconds, Rarity agreed. That last conversation really had soured the party for her. She’d usually not let such boorish behavior get to her, but it brought Princess Celestia’s request back to the forefront of her mind. She needed some time to think.

Having bumped into Princess Cadance the next morning, Rarity mentioned the drought in Somnambula to her to pass the word on to whoever needed to know. Rarity received a thank you in return and a promise to speak with the archmage regent and those responsible for overseeing the weather in the very southernmost reaches of Equestria.

With that out of the way, Rarity spent the remainder of her day seeing to her own business’s needs. She’d managed to get the cleaning and painting scheduled the day before yesterday, but there were so many little things that still needed taking care of. She needed to advertise her move. She had to take measurements for when she went to decorate. She spent nearly an hour just filling out paperwork, nevermind how long she had to stand in line. She’d forgotten how much bureaucracy went into running a business.

So it was that Rarity walked into a cozy little pub just off the main streets of Canterlot after a long, tiring day. There were only a few other ponies present this early in the evening, and none of them particularly looked like they wished for company.

“What can I get you, Ma’am?”

“Oh, just something to take the edge off before I head home. Chardonneigh, if you have it.”

With a nod, the bartender retrieved a wineglass from beneath the counter and pulled the appropriate bottle from its shelf. He poured her a glass, and she tossed him back a gem with instructions to keep the change.

Hmm, not bad. Rarity took another sip of her wine and let it linger on her tongue. I’ve had better, but this is a little higher quality than I expected.

As she drank, Rarity surveyed the room. A unicorn held a cue in his magic as he practiced his billiards game. A pegasus sat at the public piano trailing out a slow, sad song that struck straight at the heart. In a corner, a unicorn mare with a loose braid sat hunched over with her head on her table and her tail held between her hooves, a near empty mug of cider nearby. On the other side of the room–

Rarity’s eyes snapped back to the mare in the corner. Is that… It is. Without hesitation, she rose to her hooves and found her way to the mare’s table. “Is this seat taken?”

It took a few seconds for Rarity to get a response. It came as a moan at first, but then the mare picked her head up off the table enough to get a look at her company. If there’d been any doubt before, there was none now. “Rarity?”

“Hello, Index.”

A panicked look settled onto Twilight’s face. “I – what are you – I’m – oh, forget it,” she stammered out in a drunken slur. “What does it matter anymore?” Resigned, she downed the last of her drink and called for another.

Rarity watched with a worried eye as the bartender fulfilled the request and Twilight immediately guzzled down a quarter of its contents. She held her tongue, however, as something was obviously wrong. “How is the cider?” It was a light question to test the waters.

“Horrid. I don’t know why anypony likes this swill.”

Oh dear. Judging by the wine, the cider was likely just as good. Growing up in the castle had likely given Twilight a discerning palate, but Rarity suspected something more worrying. “Is this your first time drinking?”

As expected, Twilight replied, “Yeah. Promised Celestia we’d get drunk and do something stupid when we beat the evil out of her sister. Figured now was as good a time as any to see how I tolerate alcohol.” She took another large gulp of her cider and for a moment looked about to expel the entire contents of her stomach. It passed, but she still carried a miserable air about her. “Ugh… Not well, it turns out.”

“Darling, perhaps you’ve had enough for tonight?”

“Probably.” But the admission didn’t stop her from reaching for her cider. Twilight paused when the mug reached her lips, and then out of nowhere, she asked, “Am I fun?”

Rarity cocked her head to the side, trying to understand where the question had come from. Before she could formulate an answer, however, Twilight continued on with wherever her impaired thoughts were taking her.

“Luna’s a fun drunk. Celestia probably is too.”

Rarity took in the sagging shoulders, the bloodshot eyes, and the matted hairs of Twilight’s coat which probably came from tears rather than stray cider. She couldn’t find it in herself to lie convincingly. Perhaps in better circumstances, but right now, Twilight Sparkle was not a ‘fun drunk’.

“Right,” Twilight said sullenly. “Another thing I got wrong.” She went for another drink, but Rarity pinned the mug to the table with her magic, and there it stayed. To her mild surprise, Twilight didn’t even try using her own magic and merely accepted defeat.

This was even worse than Rarity had thought. She rose from her seat and moved over to sit beside Twilight, where she pulled the poor mare into a comforting hug. Although neither said anything, Twilight leaned into the affection.

When Rarity released Twilight, she asked, “Is Sweetie Belle behaving?”

Twilight nodded wordlessly.

“Good. She can be a challenge at times. Is she doing well?”

This time Twilight bit her lip and averted her eyes. “Physically. But she’s blaming herself for something I told her wasn’t her fault and then explained in detail why it wasn’t.” She went for her cider again, but this time Rarity pulled it out of arm’s reach.

“What happened?” Rarity carefully kept her voice gentle and not in any way accusing.

The mere question broke Twilight. Tears formed in her eyes as she said, “I’m a failure is what happened!”

And ponies call me a drama queen! “There are many words to describe you, darling, not all of them good, but ‘failure’ is not one of them.”

“But I am!” Twilight insisted. “This was the one thing I was supposed to get right when Celestia took me on as a student, and I screwed everything up. I’m such a miserable failure that she gave up on me years before I even tried.”

So this was about the Elements, then. Rarity had suspected, but that little confession all but confirmed it. Thinking back on the conversation she’d had with the princess, never mind the final request made of her, she said, “Dear Twilight, I assure you, Princess Celestia cares for you far beyond your ability to, eh, ‘beat the evil out of her sister’.”

“Yeah, I know,” Twilight muttered. “Doesn’t change the facts.”

“Neither does drinking yourself into a stupor.” This time Rarity added a bit of reprimand into her voice, and Twilight flinched. They would likely be unneeded words when Twilight sobered, but seeing that they’d gotten through, her expression softened. “Will you tell me what really happened? A burden shared is a burden halved.”

Twilight mulled it over and dithered before she finally heaved a long sigh and met Rarity’s eye again. “You know the Great and Powerful Trixie? Turns out she’s Luna’s protégé.”

“I… What?” That didn’t make any sense. As far as Rarity knew, Trixie was a normal unicorn no older than herself. “How is that possible?”

It took a few seconds before Twilight’s confusion melted into understanding. “Oh, I only told Sweetie Belle the whole story. Right. So keep this to yourself, but…”

Twilight spun her story from discovering a storybook reference to Nightmare Moon by supposed chance all the way up to the fallout of her disastrous duel with Trixie. There were a few mistakes which she lingered over far longer than Rarity thought was warranted to berate herself, but for a mare stepping so far outside her comfort zone, Rarity felt it was largely a success story. If she could come so far in barely more than a moon, she could finish her mission in the remainder of the second one left to her.

“–and that’s why Trixie is off crying and sulking in Ponyville, Lyra is scared of both of us, and Sweetie Belle is depressed. Oh, and while I’m too drunk to deny it, that’s also how Luna has become one of my closest friends. Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“Hardly. A little unorthodox, perhaps, but tell me honestly how many true peers you feel you have.”

Twilight listed off, “Uh, Celestia, Luna, Sunset, maybe Trixie and Pinkie Pie. Moon Dancer and Lyra somewhat. And, um… Oh! Chrysalis!”

“Who?”

“She’s the queen of the changelings.”

Rarity blinked, and Twilight blinked back. She had no idea what a changeling was, and she suspected she wasn’t supposed to. So sidestepping that issue entirely, she concluded, “Is it any wonder then that you find Princess Luna so engaging and interesting?” That Twilight was actively trying to befriend one sister to save the other only made it more reasonable and likely a proposition.

“I…suppose not,” Twilight admitted.

That was one problem if not resolved then at least out of the way for now. “I will speak to Sweetie Belle tomorrow, and I’m sure Bon Bon will help Lyra.” True love conquered all, did it not? “Trixie will be more complicated, but I’m sure with everypony working together, we can bring her around.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Darling, have faith in yourself. For a mare who had no friends outside of her family only a moon ago, you’ve come a long way.”

Twilight opened her mouth, but no words came out. She drew inward, a thoughtful look growing on her face. Then, in time, she said, “You really mean that?”

“Of course.”

A strange look settled onto Twilight’s face, one which she directed at Rarity. It only became more odd as the seconds passed. Then a decisive gleam entered into her eyes. On any other pony, Rarity would swear they were about to–

Oh my.

It was dreadfully inexperienced, wet, and Twilight’s breath reeked of alcohol, but it was certainly a kiss. Once the surprise died down, Rarity pushed Twilight away with a gentle hoof. She knew better than to take any meaning from a drunken kiss, especially from somepony who had no prior experience with alcohol or, most likely, the affairs of the heart.

“Twilight, dear, it’s not that I’m not flattered–”

“No, it’s fine. I didn’t really…” Words failing her, Twilight tried again. “It felt like the thing to do. Thought it’d be worth a try, but…meh. Never really had any interest. In anypony, not you specifically. I’m sure you’re worth the emotional upkeep for snuggles and companionship, and I’m just making this worse. Ugh… Sorry. I’m too drunk for this conversation. And sorry for not asking first.”

Rarity tittered as Twilight’s rambling apology came to a close. “Apology accepted.” Even if a little liquid courage had been involved, it was good she’d at least tried to step outside her comfort zone again. There was much work left for her to finish with the Elements and their bearers. After hearing her story, Rarity had been a bit worried she’d withdraw into herself and not come back out before it was too late.

“If it’s of any consolation, you can tell all your friends you were the archmage’s first kiss.”

Unable to resist teasing, Rarity replied, “Yes, I could tell.”

Twilight snorted, indignant, but couldn’t hide the smile poking at the corners of her lips.

“We should get you back to the castle for the night.”

“Psh. I’ll be fine the moment I undo my polymorph. Poof. No more alcohol.”

Now that Twilight mentioned it, that did line up with what she’d told Rarity about the spell. There was one complicating factor to consider, however. “Can you do that safely in your state?”

Twilight hesitated a moment that Rarity didn’t miss. “Of course I can. If Trixie can cast complex spells while four sheets to the wind, so can I.” She lit her horn but cried out in protest a moment later when Rarity flicked it with her own magic to dispel the building power.

“If it’s so important, we can do so in private with somepony qualified and sober casting the spell. You have nothing to prove.”

Although she huffed, Twilight acquiesced. “I’ll sleep it off.” Clearly, somepony was embarrassed to be caught drinking. “Can I at least finish my cider?”

“No.”

“But I paid for it!” Rarity never thought she’d hear the Archmage of Equestria whine, but here they were.

“Darling, you have the entire treasury behind you. I think you can afford to waste a little drink you don’t even want.”

In a show of solidarity, Rarity pushed away what remained of her wine and rose to her hooves. She then helped Twilight up to hers, which went as poorly as expected. She could barely keep her balance, and walking without support was a nonstarter. As they had no other option, Rarity pulled Twilight’s arm up over her shoulders with some magical assistance. Seven legs proved to be the precise number Twilight needed to move about.

Once they were out on the streets of Canterlot, the sun having long set on them, Twilight said, “Hey, Rarity?”

“Yes, Twilight?”

“You’re a good friend.”

That drew a warm smile out of Rarity. It was always nice to feel appreciated.

“Remind me to give you an old book in the morning. I think you’ll like it.”

Rarity promised to make a note of it before she went to bed.

Rarity knocked on the door to the bedroom Twilight shared with Spike and Sweetie Belle. The former two were off with the other bearers, leaving her alone to speak with her sister.

The door opened to reveal Sweetie Belle standing just behind it. Although whatever surprise she’d experienced had long since faded thanks to Generosity’s early warning, she still had a bemused look about her. “Rarity? What are you doing here?”

Rarity blinked and then tore her eyes away from Generosity. “Oh, Twilight and I ran into each other in Canterlot. She really needed somepony to talk to, and I thought perhaps you might as well.”

A moment passed in silence. Then Sweetie Belle stepped aside and left the door wide open.

Rarity took the invitation for what it was and entered. As she expected for what was essentially a glorified camping trip, there wasn’t much inside: three clouds repurposed into beds, a foal-sized desk, a few books, some odds and ends, and everything a young filly needed to take notes. Even when things were at their most dark, there would always be homework.

Eying Twilight’s bed as having the most real estate to work with, Rarity cautiously approached it and poked it with a hoof. While hers went right through, Sweetie Belle climbed up onto it without hesitation, digging her hooves into the cloud and then finally throwing herself atop the covers. “The sheets are bespelled,” she said when she saw Rarity’s reluctance to follow.

The Crusaders had thankfully never acquired Rainbow Dash’s penchant for pranks, so Rarity slid onto the bed with only an appropriately mild level of caution. When it remained firm yet softer than fresh snow, she melted into it with a pleased moan. “Oh, I simply must have one of these.”

In a moment of marvelous inspiration, Sweetie Belle suggested, “You could sew a cloudwalking spell into a sheet.”

“My beloved Sweetie Belle, if I could feel my anything right now, I would hug you.” On her way out, Rarity would have to ask Twilight for the spell diagram. Now that she knew such luxury, how could she ever get her beauty sleep with anything less?

Moreover, if the magic wasn’t too time-consuming to turn into an artifact, Rarity could make a fortune just selling luxury bedclothes! She’d be able to pick and choose her clients entirely as she pleased to devote more time to becoming an artificer. She imagined all of the good she could do with a heavy purse added to all the other changes in her life.

And with such wealth, it would be that much easier to help her shadow princess rule Equestria should Princess Luna triumph.

“Rarity?”

At Sweetie Belle’s call, Rarity stirred from her musings. “My apologies. I got lost in thought. Now then, Twilight told me what happened from her perspective. Why don’t you tell me yours.”

She started slowly, but then the whole story came tumbling out from Sweetie Belle without filter. “I wanted to help Trixie and Archmage Twilight sort out their differences so they could be friends. When Apple Bloom and Scootaloo fight, I always step in and help them make peace. Trixie… She’s complicated. More than I thought. I’m still not sure I entirely understand her, even knowing that I don’t know her whole story. I managed to get her talking, and she was in a good mood. She, uh, likes attention.”

Rarity rolled her eyes. “You don’t say.” Anypony who’d been within a league of the Great and Powerful Trixie for any length of time would know that.

“Right, well, then Archmage Twilight came to fetch me for dinner. She was polite, and I fed Trixie’s ego to keep her…not happy, but not hostile. Everything was going well, and then I broached the subject of their relationship. I… Archmage Twilight told me it wasn’t the right time for it, but I thought I knew better, so I pressed, and then she told me about Trixie, and I got scared, and that set Trixie off, which made them fight, and now Lyra’s scared, Trixie left, Archmage Twilight doesn’t want to teach me anymore, and it’s all my fault!”

With that all coming out at once, Rarity pulled her now sobbing sister into her arms. She gently stroked Sweetie Belle’s mane as she processed everything she’d heard. Mentor and protégé, it seemed, were perhaps a little too well matched in their sense of responsibility. This mess wasn’t Sweetie Belle’s fault anymore than Twilight was a failure.

Well, might as well tackle what she’ll consider the most important one first. “Sweetie Belle, there are some things that we adults only talk about with each other. She may tell you this when you’re older and less likely to laugh at her, but Twilight wants to teach you so much that she’s been creating lesson plans in her dreams.”

Wet laughter emanated from Rarity’s soggy chest. Sweetie Belle sniffed and pulled her head back enough to look up at Rarity’s face. “Really?”

“Really.” If perhaps that had been in Twilight’s dreamscape, Sweetie Belle didn’t need to know. “Even having delegated most of her responsibilities until the solstice, she’s been” – the vivid memory of holding Twilight’s mane back as she vomited surfaced uninvited – “busy.” Rarity did also recall her mentioning undertaking the rather more morbid task of setting up some unspecified failsafe in case Princess Luna killed her. “You just have to be patient. This is new to both of you; it will take some time to adjust.”

Sweetie Belle, after thinking about it for a few seconds, said, “Okay,” and actually sounded like she believed it to some extent. Rarity would call that progress. Then surprisingly, she said, “She did say I’d need self-motivation studying under her. And that this would be different than school.”

That did line up with what Rarity knew of Twilight’s poorly documented education under Princess Celestia, and she told Sweetie Belle that and then explained what little she knew from snippets of gossip, the news, credible soources, and the few things Twilight herself had said. Sweetie Belle patiently listened to every word, and Rarity thanked Celestia for perhaps the thousandth time that her sister was the quiet, reflective type.

“So you see, Twilight is here to guide your studies. She certainly has several important lessons she wants to pass on to you. She can introduce you to new ideas and possibilities. She can even give you direction. But at the end of the day, you will only get out what you yourself put in.”

After a few moment’s thought, Sweetie Belle said, “A hundred time zero is still zero,” with a little nod to herself.

Seeing that the point had been made, Rarity set that topic aside. Sweetie Belle had for years demonstrated a consistent and sufficient level of self-motivation when it came to magic to make this odd arrangement work. She and Twilight would figure out the rest together until they found their own rhythm, Rarity was sure. And if they didn’t, Twilight had promised to provide a more structured learning environment. All would be well.

“Now then,” Rarity began, “I do believe there was another matter troubling you.”

Sweetie Belle flinched.

“Surely you must know Trixie’s, shall we say, outburst was inevitable.”

“I guess…”

Nopony would accept that as a proper answer. “But…”

“It didn’t have to be this bad. I should have waited to act. I should have heard all of the facts first. I should have taken the time to digest them. I shouldn’t have reacted so badly. I–” Sweetie Belle’s voice finally cracked as she batted away tears with a fetlock. “I-I shouldn’t have stolen Generosity. From you.”

Rarity heaved a silent sigh. The downside of having an introspective little sister, despite how much easier it made life, came when she thought too deeply about things. “You did no such thing. In fact, Twilight told me she made the final decision to bond it to you.”

With the widening of Sweetie Belle’s eyes, Rarity noted that Twilight had neglected to tell her that. Not that it came as a surprise. It was a very minor detail to overlook when there were so many other larger events to dwell upon. But that knowledge alone banished the dark cloud hanging over her as the guilt she so obviously carried lifted. For the greater part, at least.

“Even if you had,” Rarity pressed on while Sweetie Belle remained receptive to her message, “Generosity is a responsibility, not some great prize. Put this worry from your mind. Twilight and I are friends without it, as you would still be her student should it have come to me instead.”

“But Trixie–”

Rarity denied Sweetie Belle’s self-condemnation any chance to regain steam and spoke over her. “–is not your fault. You acted as a wonderful, kind, caring young lady should. You’re not to blame for Trixie’s boorish behavior.”

“But – but if I hadn’t meddled–”

“–then you would be going through this next week far too close to the solstice for comfort. You six have time to amend fences.”

“That’s…probably true,” Sweetie Belle admitted. “But that’s not how responsibility works.” That came off almost as a question. “Index, er, Archmage Twilight said it was her fault I stole Generosity from her. She said that when you’re walking the path of magic, you have to take responsibility for the consequences of your actions.”

Rarity heaved an exasperated sigh and made no secret of it this time. She pushed a little magic into her horn to massage her temples. While she knew little about magic and assumed whatever exact wording Twilight had used was correct and important, she strongly suspected Twilight had long forgotten what it was like to be a foal.

“Sweetie Belle, darling, this is a very complicated subject. Twilight is one of history’s greatest mages and one step removed from a princess. What’s true for her isn’t true for you. In time, perhaps, but right now, you’re responsible for nopony’s actions but your own. Okay?”

It came hesitantly, but Sweetie Belle nodded and said, “Okay.”

“Marvelous. Now let’s get a good look at you.” Rarity shifted back and used her hooves to inspecte her little sister’s face. “Oh, darling, you look awful!”

Sweetie Belle’s, “Gee, thanks,” went ignored.

“Let me take care of that for you. Hold still a moment. A lady must look her best.”

Rarity ran her magic over Sweetie Belle, cleaning her face of any mucus and removing the lingering traces of her tears. The bloodshot eyes were already returning to normal, so Rarity left them alone. Lastly, she summoned a tissue from the desk and instructed her sister to blow her nose.

When she finished all that, Rarity leaned back satisfied. “There. You need a good bath to truly fix your mane and bring your coat to a shine, but this” – though it killed her to say so of anything less than perfection – “shall do for now.”

Sweetie Belle didn’t offer her thanks, but she did smile just a little.

“Will you be okay here if I leave for home or would you like me to stay for the day?”

With a shake of her head, Sweetie Belle told Rarity she’d be fine on her own, so they made their way together back to the entrance hall. She tried to lead them down the wrong corridor once or twice, but Rarity kept them on the right path.

“How do you know your way around so well?” Sweetie Belle asked with a bit of a whine in her voice.

Rarity smirked and replied, “Darling, this is hardly my first time going spelunking.” The pout she got in return only made her laugh. Maybe someday she would teach Sweetie Belle her secrets.

Soon enough, the pair bumped into Twilight just outside the corridor leading to the test chambers and the teleport back to Ponyville. She offered to take Rarity back home herself, but it seemed an awful waste when there was a more convenient option waiting only a short walk away.

Rarity did, however, ask after and receive the spell diagram she’d have to decipher to stitch a cloudwalking enchantment into fabric. Regardless of whether she made a business of it, she must have one for herself. It also felt like an appropriate step up from the simple toy projects she’d worked on together with Twilight.

After bidding goodbye to her sister, Rarity left Sweetie Belle in Twilight’s capable hooves. She accepted the offer of a teleport straight to the test chambers rather than having to walk all the way there herself, and then she was back in Ponyville in the middle of Pinkie Pie’s room. She could get used to being able to move about Equestria so quickly, even if she felt a little nauseous for a few moments. It almost made her want to undergo the grueling grind necessary to build up the prerequisite magical stamina herself. Almost.

There was much to do, but Rarity decided to stop by Fluttershy’s cottage for a quick chat to catch up with one another first. She might even run into Rainbow Dash there as well. If not, who knew where that mare would be off to.

Not long after leaving Sugarcube Corner and a very confused Cake couple behind, a very unexpected voice called out, “Rarity!”

Rarity froze midstep. It couldn’t be. She turned woodenly in place to find that it was. “Mother. Father.” This was the last thing she needed right now with so much else she needed to do and think about.

Heedless to her distress, Hondo Flanks and Cookie Crumbles, her parents, approached. Her father was wearing that ratty sombrero of his and some tasteless shirt that had seen far too many years of use. Her mother was marginally better, but her fashion sense remained, as ever, thirty years out of date and not nearly ‘delightfully retro’ as Rarity strained herself to call it.

“Oh, Rarity, thank Celestia. With all the chaos of the festival, we were beginning to think we’d come home to the wrong place.”

Hondo Flanks nodded his agreement. “We hardly recognized Ponyville when we first arrived. Your friend, Fluttershy, told us you were in Canterlot, but she didn’t know when you’d be back.”

“Ah, yes, well, I just arrived, actually.” Rarity dreaded to ask, but she had to. “Did she mention why I was there?”

“Something about meeting with the princess for the festival,” Cookie Crumbles said, although she sounded a bit unsure.

Rarity sent her silent thanks out to Fluttershy with the promise of an all day spa trip in the future for letting her break the news in her own time. If at all possible, she wanted Twilight at her side when that happened lest it merely devolve into another argument.

“Speaking of which, did Sweetie Belle go with you? We haven’t seen her.”

“No, she’s off camping with a friend.” It wasn’t not the truth, and Rarity figured it would buy her enough time to bump into Twilight again. She’d just leave a note with Amethyst to give to Index. Twilight was still the Summer Sun Celebration’s overseer, after all. She’d have to come back at regular intervals for at least a check-in.

Meanwhile, however, Rarity needed to keep her parents distracted.

The end of the day came as a relief when Rarity finally managed to return home to her boutique. She habitually turned the sign from closed to open, realized her mistake, corrected it, and then finally removed the note saying she’d be out of town for a few days. She’d need to remember to make a new one as soon as her parents were sorted out to direct customers to her new address in Canterlot.

Rarity climbed the stairs up to her private residence. At the top, she eyed what luggage Twilight had brought back for her from her castle apartment. Did she really want to unpack right now? No. Certainly not. She was too tired for that. All she really wanted to do was curl up in bed with a good book, so that was precisely what she did.

A deep sigh escaped Rarity when she slipped under the covers of her regular spring bed. She’d experienced perfection, and now she had to suffer such primitive accommodations. “No wonder Rainbow Dash spends so much time napping on stray clouds.”

Without any other choice, however, Rarity resigned herself to the inevitable. She levitated the book Twilight had given her over from her nightstand, read the title and author with some surprise, and then finally cracked open Entering the Dream Realm.

Author's Notes:

A slower chapter after the rapid downward spiral of the last two. Rarity has set up some future plotlines and took her first few proper steps into Canterlot society. Meanwhile, the bearers generally milled around accomplishing nothing. Now that everyone has some distance from the event, we can resume our regularly scheduled programming.

Spike just missed bumping into Rarity.

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Twelve days remain until the solstice.

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