Retribution came on swift wings.

They came through the splintered doors and windows, the combined contingents of police and guards. They came with speed. They came with strength. They came with overwhelming numbers. And they came with such fury, not even the gates of hell could stand in their way.

The Thirteen were ready for them. With cold eyes and colder hearts, they lay in wait, scattered around the devastated remains of the station, lurking unseen in the dark nooks and crannies, like rats, like evil, hooded rats. They bunkered down behind the rubble, behind the ruined counters and the blind corners, waiting for the moment to arrive, waiting for the moment to strike.

Then they came, those police and guards, and along with them came the moment, heralded by the shatter-crash! of the glass windows and the sound of a hundred wings on the air. They came, and their armor glinted even in the darkness of the terminal, even through the haze that went up from the floor of the concourse, littered with the bodies of the wounded and the unconscious.

They came. And the Thirteen started shooting.

Tristar pitched down through one of the upper windows, down into the train station, down into the viper’s nest. All around him, ribbons of black magic flashed through the air like lightning.

The place reeked of smoke and the electric stench of ozone. Blinking past the sting in his eyes, Tristar sought out a safe spot to land, even as a jet-black javelin of magic came streaking up, forcing him to roll narrowly out of the line of fire. Intuition and training both coaxed him toward the relative safety of the west stairs. He angled for them.

A dozen pegasi had been by his side when he came into this hellhole, but they were gone by now, each one threading his own separate course through the deadly lightshow. It didn’t matter. He could fend for himself. Yet as Tristar darted through the air, he caught sight of a flicker of white dashing along the balcony below, side-stepping past piles of rubble here and there, but still keeping pace. A wry grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he banked right, then flew down beside the other stallion.

“Armor!” Tristar called out. “With me!”

Shining Armor glanced up. “With you!”

Tristar alighted at the top of the stairs, and Shining Armor skidded to a halt nearby. Two seconds later, another magic missile came twirling up at them, hissing and sucking the light into itself like a spiraling black hole of doom.

“GET DOWN!” Shining Armor shouted. He launched himself at Tristar and tackled him, and the two of them hit the hard tile together.

Tristar didn’t have time to act, speak, or even think.

A millisecond before the blast hit, the air all around them shimmered with a magenta gloss, and Shining Armor’s trademark barrier sprang up, wrapping them in a protective bubble. The bolt of dark energy slammed into it like a freight train, but the shield held strong. Torrential waves of obsidian crashed down the stairway in the backlash, annihilating the top seven or eight steps, leaving the two of them gawking over precipice.

Tristar was back on his hooves in an instant, with Shining Armor not far behind. The two of them scampered behind the railing of the balcony, out of sight.

“I think they mean business,” muttered Shining Armor.

Tristar snorted. “Is that your strategic assessment of the situation?”

“Yeah.” Shining Armor put on a little smirk. “Comes from all my years of experience dealing with insane cults.”

Another stripe of black whizzed overhead and sliced off a half inch of Tristar’s mane before careening out the window and nailing the building across the street.

Tristar threw out a string of curses, but he peeked over the rim of the balcony despite himself and surveyed the battlefield below. Only a quick glance—then he ducked down, taking cover again.

“Seven that I can see. The one sniping us is down in the ticket booth.”

Shining Armor grinned. “Seven? You sure? You never were that good at counting, you know. You want me to double-check?”

“There. Are. Seven,” Tristar replied through gritted teeth.

“Hey, as long as you’re sure.”

Tristar rubbed his temples. “Armor. Don’t do anything stupid. I know reckless feats of heroism are your namesake, but I’m going to have more than enough letters to write after today as it is.”

“Stupid? Me?” Shining Armor gave him a humorous look from behind his sweat-matted blue bangs.

Tristar risked one more glance over the side. The battle-scarred floor of the terminal was a picture of chaos. He recognized Noble Duty, Argent, Stormheart and Proudclad, the exertion on their faces patently visible as they fought in the hellish glow of the fires, all four of them matching wits against a single Ascendant. It was the same story everywhere he looked. They outnumbered the cultists ten-to-one, but the cultists were holding them back one-to-ten.

And although it pained Tristar, he recognized other faces down there as well. Faces of ponies he knew and loved. Faces he had looked on every day, from training to the watch.

And there those faces were. Stitched throughout the blanketing quilt of civilians. Right down there on that cold, dark, undignified floor.

Their eyes closed. Their bodies deathly still.

Tristar turned away.

“Pincer maneuver. You go left over the top. I’ll go right.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Shining Armor.

“On my mark. Three, two—”

“Cadence wouldn’t make a very good widow, anyway.”

“—one, MARK!”

They sprang out from hiding, each one forging his own way down to the ticket booth a hundred feet away. No sooner did Tristar’s hock clear the railing than the air erupted with magic, jet after inky jet spewing out from behind the counter.

Eighty feet. Seventy. Sixty.

Tristar nimbly rolled out of the way, and a torrent of energy flew by, splattering against the wall, burning a hole in it like some kind of strange demonic bile.

Fifty feet. Forty.

The air whistled in his ears…

Thirty feet. Twenty. Ten. He was almost there—

And then the explosion happened.

The shockwave picked him up and tossed him head-over-hooves like a ragdoll. He flew back, his chest impacted on the granite stairs, a white-hot pain shot through his ribs and made his body spasm.

The whole world went orange in the blinding light of the flash. He lay there for a while, clutching at his chest, listening to the deafening ringing in his ears and shielding himself against the scalding glare. When at last he dared lower his hooves from their protective station in front of his eyes, he looked out across the room, and he saw—he saw—

Shining Armor.

Shining Armor. Flailing through the air, caught in the blast.

His body crashed down against the hard floor and he lay there. Still.

The color drained out of Tristar’s face. “No… No…”

The word was voiceless. Drowned out by the battle raging all around. The battle didn’t care about the innocent souls it threw down or the lives it shattered. The battle was loud… and unapologetic.

“NO!”

Tristar shot up off the ground, ignoring the pain that blazed between his ribs like a burning stake. He galloped down the last few steps, across the room, past the fallen bodies of so many of his comrades, the entirety of the grisly scene blurring at the corners of his vision, over to the ticket booth, over to those tall, gilded windows so stooped in grace and dignity and elegance and a thousand other things that were completely at odds with this moment, his moment—the moment when he would wreak his vengeance upon the bastard behind that counter.

And over the counter, he leapt, skidding to a stop on the far side. The enemy was there, cloaked, cowled, and apparently quite surprised to see him, as he stood there, dumbfounded, for a moment or two, although the full magnitude of his shock remained hidden behind that blood red hood. Tristar reared up onto his hind legs, pulled back his hoof, and slammed it into the cultist as hard as he could—and into that blow, he poured all his rage, all his hate, all his grief and sadness, and the memory of everypony who had perished and suffered that day—

But the blow didn’t connect.

A shimmering gray force field crackled into being around the cultist, encapsulating him like a sphere. Tristar stared in slack-jawed confusion, unable to comprehend.

The Ascendant began to chuckle. A low, guttural, menacing sound.

Again and again, Tristar bashed against the magic shield with both of his hooves, to no effect. The disciple’s laughter turned into an uproarious cackle. And then, before Tristar could blink, an invisible force seized him, lifted him up, and threw him back into the counter. His vision went black as his head cracked against the stone, his body wrenching in pain.

And as he lay there, helpless, unable to defend himself, he could only wonder how it had come to this. How could a life—any life—be so easily cast down and destroyed?

And he could only think of his wife and his children, their happy little faces bobbing on the tide of his memory. And how they would cry when they found out he would never come home from this day. And how much he would miss them in the darkness that was to come…

The Ascendant’s horn began to glow a malevolent black—

But before it could go off, a dazzling white flash lit up the booth, and then Sage Whitehoof appeared, standing between Tristar and his foe. In his hoof, he gripped a silver staff. For once, a smile didn’t adorn his face. For once, Tristar was happy to see him.

“Cease this foolishness,” said Sage. His voice was filled with a gravity it seldom knew. “Princess Celestia will soon arrive. If you surrender now, then I promise, there will be mercy.”

The Ascendant laughed. “You would stand in our way, ancient one?”

“I can. And I will.”

“I will make you regret it. With every fiber of your being, with—”

Before he could finish his sentence, another ripple of white went out from Sage. It washed over the Ascendant, who took an instinctive step back and raised his hoof defensively, and then it subsided, and the place became dim again, filled with the same darkness that seemed to saturate the entire train station. Their shadows played on the walls in the meager light of the fires.

Sage smirked.

The Ascendant looked down at himself, then back up at Sage. “What was that, you old fool?” he asked, his laughter spilling out. “Is that all you can do? Conjure a little beam of light? That’s hardly impressive. Even a school filly is capable of—OOF!”

The silver staff planted in the Ascendant’s gut, and he doubled over.

This time, there wasn’t a force field to protect him.

Sage brought the staff to bear once more. With one last thwack to the head, the disciple crumpled to the ground and didn’t move.

The old headmaster smiled weakly and offered Tristar a helping hoof off the floor. Tristar looked at it like it was a snake. Then, ignoring it, he struggled to a shaky stance without any assistance.

“My friend,” said Sage, “perhaps you should—”

Tristar burst into a fit of coughs. He raised a hoof to cover his mouth. Only ten seconds later, after his lungs had fallen back in line, did he look down and notice the stain of blood that had come off on his arm.

“—take it easy,” Sage finished with a grimace.

Tristar wiped his mouth and glared. “Where the hell is Celestia?”

He peered out through the window of the ticket booth. Dozens of his brothers and sisters were still fighting for their lives out on the terminal floor, battering against the remaining insurrectionists and their magical barriers like waves against the rocks.

“She’s here,” said Sage.

Tristar frowned. “Where?”

“Here. Breathing life into the fallen. While their hearts beat, while the spark of life still glimmers inside of them, they can yet be revived. Time is of the essence in what she does.”

“My men are dying out there!” Tristar yelled. “Where the hell is she?”

“Quell your anxieties, Captain. Nopony is going to die today. As soon as Celestia has cast her blessing on those in need, she will be here to—”

“ENOUGH!”

The battle ended with a single word.

A golden light poured in through the windows, glinting off the shards like a million flashing jewels, driving away the darkness in a triumphant blaze of glory. It was as if a great hand suddenly reached down from the heavens and swept aside the shadowy curtain that surrounded the place. It quashed all the fires and shook the walls until plaster dust rained from the ceiling, and it grabbed the Ascendants, and it slammed them down to the floor, their magic shields fizzling around them.

Then a majestic pillar of flame went up from the center of the station. Twin tendrils of orange spiraled up and around it, streaking ever faster, drawing thinner and thinner with each revolution until finally, they flew together over the top of the inferno and collapsed to a point—and from out of that point, there shined such a brilliant beacon of light that Tristar and Sage and everypony else there had no choice but to shield their eyes and look away.

When the light died down and they all looked back again, there stood Celestia, surrounded by a burning halo of fire. Every smoldering step she took seemed to communicate just how royally pissed off she was.

Her gaze fell on one of the Ascendants, lying in a heap near what was left of the eastern stairway. She stormed over, placed her hoof upon him, and rolled him over onto his back.

“Who are you?” she asked.

He didn’t say a word. He only sneered.

It didn’t take long for the remaining forces to realize the Ascendancy was down for the count. The guards and the officers bowed low in honor of Celestia, as was their custom.

Well, the ones who were still standing did, anyway.

Sage magicked open the ticket booth door and strolled over to greet her. Five seconds later, a dazed and unsteady Tristar staggered out after him, doing his best to ignore the warm trickle of blood down his brow.

“Your Majesty. The Ascendancy is defeated,” said Sage. His hard gaze swept across the devastated ruins of the train station, surveying the field of battle from behind his silver spectacles.

Celestia gave him a cordial nod, then cast a glare out at the masses of genuflecting guards. “What are you all doing? Stop wasting time and help the wounded! Our people need medical attention!”

They didn’t need any more prodding than that. Ten seconds later, the whole place had plunged into a total uproar again as the able-bodied rushed to the aid of the fallen—though this time, there weren’t any death rays or explosions, thank goodness.

It was all just a dull roar in Tristar’s ears. A peculiar sort of humming that seemed to grow louder as the whole world slowed to a crawl, as the seconds stretched to eons, as a weariness beyond his years crept into his distant, glazed-over eyes.

He watched, dazed, as a team of guards sprinted in slow motion over to the opposite side of the concourse, over to where Shining Armor lay in a slumped, unmoving pile. They bore the brunt of the injured unicorn’s weight as they helped him back to his hooves, his arms wrapped around their supporting shoulders, dangling like a brick on a string.

With considerable help, Shining Armor climbed to a shaky stance. He gazed out across the room, through the billowing smoke and the masses of ponies. He looked at Tristar, and he smiled a little smile.

Then a jolt of pain took that smile away, and his knees gave a buckle underneath him. The guards barely managed to catch him in time before he fell. Slowly and steadily, they led Shining Armor out through a nearby side exit, stepping gingerly through the craters and the rubble. Tristar’s eyes followed him until the moment he disappeared through the pair of swinging doors. They lingered there for a long time afterward.

“…ain Tristar? Did you hear me?”

The sound of his own name brought the whole world rushing back to clarity. Tristar snapped out of his stupor. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

Perhaps it was the wobble in his stance, or the quaver in his voice, or the river of blood that flowed down his head. Whatever the case, Celestia gave him a sympathetic look. “You’re injured.”

Tristar scowled. “I’m fine. What’s the enemy’s status?”

Sage looked down at the mute Ascendant. “Neutralized.”

“Neither he nor any of his friends are going anywhere. Not while my powers bind them,” said Celestia, her words dripping with acid. “I expect you’ll take charge of this situation, Sage. See that they’re all detained and properly interrogated.”

“Shall I take them into royal custody?”

“No. Transporting them to Canterlot will only create a spectacle, and we’ve already had spectacle enough for one day. Leave them to the local authorities. It’s the least I can do for the mayor after the assistance she’s rendered in this ordeal.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” said Sage.

Celestia gave Tristar a plaintive look. “Go home, Captain.”

Tristar stiffened. “I will not abandon my post.”

“Your obligations are fulfilled. Your honor is secure. Go home to your family. There’s no need to give them cause for worry.”

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, I would sooner chop off my own two wings than leave before these fiends are in custody and every single one of my men is accounted for,” he said, his face hardening.

Just then, they heard something. A cough—tiny, nigh-imperceptible, smothered beneath a pile of debris. Celestia and Sage exchanged looks of wide-eyed surprise. Their horns flared, and the debris shifted.

The filly they uncovered was out cold. Her white fur was caked with soot, and all the spring had gone out of her lilac-colored mane. But as she lay there, still half-buried, holding onto the charred and tattered remains of a straw hat, Celestia stifled a gasp.

“Your Majesty? Do you know this child?” asked Sage.

The Princess didn’t respond, but the somber recognition burned into her face answered Sage’s question well enough. Celestia knelt beside the wounded girl and stroked her mane with a gentle hoof.

Sweetie Belle stirred at the touch. “Ra… rity...” she whimpered.

Celestia bowed her head.

“Captain Tristar,” she said. Her voice trembled with barely-contained emotion. “If your honor demands it, then I… I have one last duty for you to fulfill. A very important one.”

Tristar stepped forward. “Your Majesty?”

“Take this filly back to her home in Ponyville. Find her parents. Make sure they’re well tended to.”

“I—of course, Princess.”

“Call in extra guards. I don’t want any more surprises.”

Tristar bowed. “Thy will be done.”

“And Sage,” Celestia said, the rage crackling in her eyes again. “I want a full investigation. Nothing like this has happened in my kingdom in the last four centuries. I will not allow my subjects’ lives to continue to be so endangered. Take as much time as you need from your post at the school and bring me answers. There will be consequences. There will be punishment.”

Sage nodded. With barely a moment’s pause, he put his hoof between his lips and blew. The whistle that resonated forth stopped everypony in the room. The guards looked at him expectantly.

“First and second divisions, fan out and commence post-operations! Report anything suspect to your commanders, and commanders, deliver those reports to me! I want a full head count—theirs, ours, and civilians! I want the when of it! I want the how of it! I want names, I want descriptions, and I want to know exactly which train they came in on! All other divisions, back to work!”

The guards snapped to their duties at once, completely at Sage’s beck and call. Tristar’s lip curled as he watched them scurry around at the old fool’s direction. He looked at Sage, and he frowned.

Down on the floor, Sweetie Belle kicked out and gave a little sob. She buried her head between her forehooves as a trembling racked her body, clearly in the throes of a nightmare.

A single tear ran down Celestia’s cheek. She paused in her mission to smooth out the girl’s disheveled hair, leaned down, and kissed her softly on the forehead. As her horn drew near Sweetie Belle’s anguished face, a serene, golden glow emanated from it.

Sweetie Belle ceased her struggle and relaxed into Celestia’s arms.

And Celestia gazed down at her, her royal brow creased with sorrow and regret. She brushed a dangling strand of hair off Sweetie Belle’s face, and then she whispered into her ear:

“May you have only sweet dreams from now on.”

Decades ago, when the architects built their vision on the downtown metropolitan soil, they poured their hearts and souls into Grand Central. They gave it its elegant sculptures, its gold-plated chandeliers flashing at every turn, its limestone walls like smooth butter, its cool, running floors of marble, like creamy lakes of milk.

And one more thing, too—an enchanted ceiling. They summoned the top unicorn mages in the kingdom to work their magic, transforming the banal slab into the very image of the night sky.

A thousand years previous, Nightmare Moon might have taken some solace in the knowledge that one day, ponies from all places and walks of life would converge here, at this station, beneath her cosmic sphere. That every morning, her wonderful constellations would shine down upon the masses, and every evening, as the tired multitudes made their way home by train, they would glance up and see the stars above them, like faraway lanterns, signaling hope.

But now the sculptures had shattered, and the chandeliers had fallen, and great cracks ran across the floors and up the walls, from whence the daylight spilled in careless, unsympathetic shafts.

The whole place was destroyed.

All except for the enchanted ceiling. By miracle, luck, or ill-intent, the artificial night plastered across that vaulted roof had escaped all damage. Not a single beam of magic had struck it.

The stars winked in and out. Voiceless observers, harboring secrets.

Sage Whitehoof leaned on his staff and looked up at them in silence.

Excerpt from the Canterlot Gazette, Friday, May 24th, Late Edition:

The choking black smoke has cleared above Grand Central Station, the site of Tuesday’s unprecedented magical attack. But questions regarding the nature of the incident continue to swirl in the air.

Three days after rogue insurrectionists swarmed the city’s downtown commuter hub, raining down untold terror and destruction, the initial shock and numbness have turned to anger. Citizens far and wide have raised their voices in a unified call for justice.

The Magistrate’s Office signaled its readiness today to move ahead with arraignments for the thirteen suspects in custody. Kingdom judicial officials were quick to offer support, with the High Justiciar pledging “Canterlot’s full help and cooperation in the ensuing trial.”

The promise of assistance comes as the Crown faces uncommon criticism for its failure to prevent the crisis, the first of its kind in centuries. In a statement today, Earnest Truth, Official Press Pony to Princess Celestia, downplayed accusations that the Crown had endangered its subjects' lives by its slowness to act, declaring, “The difficult decisions undertaken by the princesses were proven right by the heroism of the Manehattan Police Department, whose capture of these subversive elements has made all Equestria safer.”

Further controversy has stemmed from the suspects’ affiliation with the Ascendency of the Night, a fanatical underground order apparently devoted to the overthrow of Princess Celestia and the elevation of Nightmare Moon to the throne. Princess Luna hasn’t been seen in public since before the attack and was unavailable for comment, but Palace spokesponies loudly dismissed popular theories of her involvement.

Mayor Fairmane called for solidarity Thursday, assuring listeners that “The harmony of our will and spirits will bear us through the darkness of the hour. With proper respect and dignity, we will prevail stronger than we ever were before.”

In response, Lord Brilliant was quoted saying, “Stupid, meddling, elected little peasant! I could do a better job than that ninny!”

Of the more than one hundred ponies who were injured in the incident Tuesday, forty-two remain hospitalized, though by the grace of Celestia, no fatalities occurred. The Port Authority has estimated the property damage to Grand Central at a staggering seventy million bits. Reconstruction is set to begin next month, and is expected to be bankrolled in part by the Crown’s considerable largesse.

The rain came down on Ponyville. It came down hard.

Rainbow lingered back, separate from the others, and peered out the foggy second-story window. Outside, beyond the panes of water-flecked glass, the storm boomed and rumbled, and she watched with a detached sort of fascination as the puddles lapped against the embankment of the cross-emblazoned hospital sign, and as the rumpled, greenish clouds slid eastward over a horizon of thatched-roof houses.

If nothing else, she could take comfort in knowing Derpy was doing a bang-up job on the weather patrol. Still, Rainbow couldn’t help but dwell on how totally bucking weird everything seemed.

Back again in Ponyville General Hospital. Two weeks ago, she’d woken up here, snuggled beneath a warm, white wing. Then Celestia hugged her, cried on her, and dropped a freaking castle on her.

At least this time, she wasn’t the one in the hospital bed. But that didn’t make being here any less… What was that egghead word Twilight always busted out? Surreal?

Of course, two weeks ago, there weren’t groups of psychopaths running around, blowing up innocent ponies in public places. When did the world go so completely bucking nuts?

And now, here she was again. Back in the same dreary hospital room, with the same stuffy air and the same smell of rubbing alcohol. Back here again with all her friends. All except for Twilight, anyway.

“Oh, Sweetie Belle! Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, Rarity! I’m fine!”

The sisterly exchange shook Rainbow from her daydreams. She rolled her eyes. It had to be the bazillionth time Rarity had asked.

Applejack must have been thinking the exact same thing, because she chimed in just then, “Sugarcube, Sweetie Belle’s plum dandy. As a matter of fact, she’d be even better without you clingin’ to her like a cowpony to a rodeo bull. Why don’t you give her some space?”

“Let go of my dear, sweet Sweetie Belle? How dare you even suggest such a thing!”

Sweetie Belle choked as Rarity put her in another stranglehold.

“Rarity! Can’t… breathe!”

“Oh, Sweetie Belle! My poor, poor, poor, poor injured sister! I’ll never, ever, ever let you go!” she said. And it didn’t look like she was about to. She was latched onto Sweetie Belle so tightly, it would have taken a pile driver to come between them.

Naturally, that didn’t stop Pinkie Pie. Faster than a speeding cupcake, the party pony popped up from out of nowhere, putting her face right up against Sweetie Belle’s and staring at her with an enormous, bulging eye.

“Help… me!” Sweetie Belle croaked.

“Jeeze-Louise, Rarity! Maybe you’re right! Maybe she is injured! Her face is turning all bluey-bluey-blue!”

It took Rarity a second to process that. Then she let go. Sweetie Belle collapsed back onto the bed, arms and legs splayed out, wheezing as she sucked in desperate lungfuls of air.

“I dunno about the whole ‘poor, poor, poor, poor, poor’ part, though,” said Pinkie Pie. “I don’t think Sweetie Belle is really all that poor. Are you poor, Sweetie Belle? Because OHMYGOSH, if you are, you TOTALLY have to come stay with me and the Cakes at Sugarcube Corner!”

Applejack laid a hoof on her shoulder. “Pinkie, the bakery’s currently undergoin’ reconstruction, remember?”

“DON’T SLEEP ON THE STREETS, SWEETIE BELLE! It isn’t worth it!” Pinkie Pie pleaded. And to emphasize the point, she lurched forward and shook the bedridden filly violently by the shoulders.

“GYAH!” Sweetie Belle cried, head whipping from side to side.

“The streets are so cold and hard! And the cobblestones always leave these weird little indentation thingies in your back when you wake up the next morning! You don’t have to do it, Sweetie Belle! THERE ARE PONIES WHO LOVE YOU!”

Rarity’s jaw dropped. “Pinkie!”

“Oh my…”

“Pinkie, no!”

Applejack leapt right into the thick of things and seized Pinkie Pie by the arms. With a bit of grappling, she managed to pry her loose.

Pinkie gave the farmer a sheepish grin. “Oh. Hi, Applejack!”

“Landsakes, girl, what are you tryin’ to do?”

“Well, I’m trying to help, silly!”

“At that rate, you’re gonna ‘help’ the poor gal back into the hospital!”

A befuddled expression came over Pinkie’s face. “But she’s already in the hospital! How could she possibly go back to someplace she’s already in? Unless… OH NO! TEMPORAL WORMHOLES!”

With that, Pinkie dove head-first underneath the bed. And for a good while, everypony just stood and stared after her.

Rarity cleared her throat. “Well, now that that’s over…”

“Aw, leave her alone. She’s just being Pinkie Pie,” said Sweetie Belle.

By now, her eyes had finished spinning in their sockets, and she fixed her sister with a petulant glare as she blew out a heavy sigh.

“Ugh! I’m so tired of being stuck in this dumb room! This is the third day straight! I just wanna go outside again!”

“Oh, Sweetie Belle, you heard the doctor. They only want to keep you here over the weekend,” said Rarity. “Just a few days more, and after that mother and father will take you home.”

Sweetie Belle grumbled and kicked at her sheets.

“I’m just so relieved everypony’s all right,” said Fluttershy.

Applejack nodded. “How’s your dad doing, Rarity?”

“Oh, he’s insufferable, as usual. I was with mother when we checked him out yesterday, and would you believe he spent the whole wagon ride home going on about what a splendid holiday it was? ‘The most exciting vacation we’ve gone on in years!’ Really!”

“Well, at least he isn’t emotionally scarred or nothin’.”

“I’m emotionally scarred! How could anything like this happen in our Equestria, Applejack? And not by dragons or ursas, but by ponies! Flesh-and-blood ponies, no different than you or I!”

“It’s a hard pill to swallow, alright. But believe me, t’weren’t anything normal ’bout them ponies.”

“A pack of shameless degenerates, no better than… than smelly mules in a paddock! They ought to hang them by their hooves from the rafters of a Canterlot dungeon, all thirteen of them! To think they would deliberately harm a CHILD!”

She punctuated that declaration with a slam!, bringing her hoof down on the nightstand so hard, it sent the lamp wobbling.

Fluttershy flinched.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, dear. That was crude of me,” said Rarity.

“Oh no, it’s okay. I completely understand. We’ve all been affected by what happened, but nopony has been caught up in this whole thing more than you and Sweetie Belle. And your dad, of course. And, um, everypony else who was actually at the train station. And—”

Rarity stopped her with a smile and a gentle touch. “Thank you. Your kindness truly has been a blessing. But that’s enough about my sister and I. How are you holding up, darling?”

“Oh, um, fine,” the yellow pegasus replied. “It’s a little scary, you know, living alone so close to the edge of the forest. But I think the animals have been more affected by this whole thing than I have.”

Applejack laughed. “Don’t tell me there’s a little woodland critter you can’t lullaby to sleep? That ain’t the Fluttershy I know! I know the birdies tend to migrate and such, but Manehattan’s a ways from here. They can’t all be on edge about what happened up yonder.”

“I don’t know. But something has them spooked,” Fluttershy insisted. “And if they’re on edge, well… that puts me on edge, too.”

“Oh, I don’t blame you one bit, dear!” said Rarity. “It really wakes you up, seeing something like this happen. I don’t think anypony in Equestria feels safe today.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “It’s a shame that captain fellow couldn’t stay in town a few more days.”

Sweetie Belle groaned. “Oh boy, here we go again.”

Rarity turned up her nose and put on a dignified air. “I’ll admit, when that handsome hunk of a stallion came chugging into town, I was smitten at first sight. What hot-blooded mare wouldn’t be?

“Oh, the thought of him coming down from that locomotive! So filled with grace and poise and dignity, with such valor in his step! His helm off and at his side, mane blowing in the wind like silver. And stars above, the armor… the muscles… those wings! It’s enough to make a girl shiver with delight! And there astride his back, my sister, brought home to me at last by this… this sculpted savior!”

Rarity made a show of draping a hoof across her brow and tilting her head back, as though she were about to faint.

“Be still, my heart! What a tragedy that he was already taken. And oh, how I envy the lucky mare who won his love before me!”

“You done yet?” Applejack asked bluntly.

Rarity shot the cowpony a seething glare. “If you had been there with me when he stepped onto the platform, you would understand! Oh, what was his name again… Tristar? Something of the like?”

Rainbow gagged.

“Still,” Rarity continued, “if I had known he would be heading back to Canterlot so soon, I would have pressed him for a bit more security! The patrols just aren’t enough. We need a strong military presence! We need the guards here in full force! These are strange times, and you can never tell when chaos is about to come knocking!”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Everypony stopped and looked up. The knob turned, the door swung open, and into the room strolled—

Pinkie Pie. In strolled Pinkie Pie, with a great big smile splayed across her face. Scootaloo and Applebloom trailed behind her.

“Here she is, girls! One Sweetie Belle, per your request!”

“Cool! Thanks, Pinkie!” the two Crusaders said in unison. Laughing to themselves, they bounded over and jumped up onto the bed.

Sweetie Belle’s face lit up. “Applebloom! Scootaloo!”

Applejack’s mouth dropped open in amazement. “Pinkie Pie, how the hay did you get out in the hallway without any of us noticing?”

Pinkie Pie giggled. “Silly Applejack! I never left!”

With that, she spun on her hoof and exited the same way she’d come in. The door slammed shut behind her.

Applejack scratched her head.

“CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS REUNITED!”

“Aw, yeah!”

“Oh my gosh, it’s so great to see you guys!”

“Heard you had a wild time in Manehattan, Sweetie Belle!”

“Yeah, it was super-duper incredible! Well, except for the part where this one guy in a dress kicked me really hard in the ribs… But other than that, it was a lot of fun!”

“Didja see any cool sights?”

“Um, we were gonna go see the Statue of Harmony when our trip got cut short. It’s that big statue with the torch-thingy, you know?”

“Wow! That’s really somethin’, Sweetie Belle! It’s a darn shame about what happened, though.”

“Hey, are you guys thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I’m thinkin’ I don’t like it when you get that weird little glint in your eye, Scootaloo. What are you plannin’?”

“Oh, you know. Nothing special. Just… SUPER SPECTACULAR CUTIE MARK CRUSADER DAREDEVIL STATUE OF HARMONY ZIP-LINERS!”

“Wow, Scootaloo! That sounds like loads of fun!”

“Um, I’m not sure if I like this idea…”

Applejack smiled. “Well girls, maybe we oughta head out for the day. Give these three gals some time to catch up. Whaddaya say, Rarity? How about we all go get some grub?”

Rarity frowned. “Well, I don’t know…”

“I’ll be fine, Rarity! Really!” Sweetie Belle insisted.

At that moment, a pink snout and an anxious pair of blue eyes popped out from under the bed. “Guys! Is the Temporal Cold War over? Have the wormholes passed? You haven’t seen any evil twins of me from another universe, have you? TELL ME IF YOU’VE SEEN ANY EVIL TWINS!”

“Er, maybe?” was Applejack’s answer.

Pinkie Pie clamped her hooves over her ears and wailed in horror as she ran, screaming, out of the room.

“Ahem,” Applejack cleared her throat. “Well, ladies, I reckon that’s our signal to go. Come on, Rarity. Sweetie Belle will be fine.”

Rarity reluctantly agreed. With that, she, Fluttershy, and Applejack all said their goodbyes and headed out, leaving the Cutie Mark Crusaders to laugh, play, and catch up with each other.

Rainbow floated out after them, lost in her thoughts.

Three sets of corridors and two flights of stairs later, they caught up to Pinkie Pie down in the hospital lobby. The party pony had pitched a tent behind the receptionist’s desk, with a sign on the flap that proclaimed “NO CLONES ALLOWED” in bold, messy hoofwriting. It took Applejack a while to coax her out (“Pinkie, if’n you don’t leave that tent this instant, I’m gonna unstake the danged thing and drag it away with you in it! ”), but eventually, she emerged, cheerful and oblivious, with chocolate and graham cracker crumbs smeared across her face and a couple of marshmallows skewered on a stick. She rejoined the group, and the receptionist shook his hoof as the lot of them made for the exit.

Outside, the rain was still coming down in sheets and droves. Rarity paused by the door. Her horn lit up, and she produced a purple-and-white umbrella, levitating in her magical grasp.

She gave the others a patronizing look. “Don’t tell me I’m the only one who thought to plan for weather?”

Applejack scuffed her hoof sheepishly. “I reckon so, Sugarcube. Guess in all the commotion, we plum forgot to check the forecast. Don’t suppose you could share with us?”

“Of course, darling!”

Rarity pushed through the door, the umbrella flinging itself open the second it tasted the storm.

Applejack, Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy all filed through after her and ran ahead to take refuge. But it quickly became clear one umbrella just wasn’t enough. All four of them were getting soaked.

Rainbow was the last to come out, still lagging noticeably behind. She wouldn’t have minded the downpour, but before she felt the first drop of rain on her head, a pair of gray, armored ponies closed in on either side of her, each one raising a wing to shield her from the storm.

“Princess Aurora,” acknowledged the one on the left.

Rainbow facehoofed. Not here! Not now!

Her friends stopped ahead of her and looked back, their coats wetter than wet, manes and tails dripping with water.

Rarity looked annoyed.

“You see? That’s what I’m talking about. Security!” she said over a low roll of thunder. “Guards. Actual guards. That’s what Ponyville needs. That’s what my sister needs!”

Rainbow looked at her security detail hopelessly. “Uh, I don’t suppose you dudes would mind sticking around here to keep an eye on the hospital for a few hours? Her little sister’s up in 311-B. She was one of the victims of the attack.”

The two guards just stared straight ahead, stock still, eyes and wings unwavering as they continued to keep the rain off her. “We go where the princess goes,” the left one spoke again.

Rainbow saw the muscles in Rarity’s jaw clench. She pointed toward her friends desperately. “Well, can you at least go over there and help keep them dry? I’m a weatherpony! I think I can handle a little rain!”

The guards didn’t move. “We go where the princess goes.”

“Argh! Not cool, guys! Totally not cool!” Rainbow cried.

Rarity glared. “It’s all right. Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, dears. You three take the umbrella. I’ll walk in the rain.”

“But Sugarcube—”

“It’s all right, Applejack. I insist.”

She relinquished the umbrella, and then she turned away and started again down the street, water splashing off her with every step. Applejack and the others looked at Rainbow awkwardly before hurrying up to join her. Rainbow just groaned and followed after them, the guards still at her side. She couldn’t remember feeling more embarrassed.

That lasted until they got to the restaurant. Just as they were all about to head inside, one of the guards blocked the way with his hoof. “We can’t let you in, Princess. Not until we’ve conducted a security sweep.”

“Oh, you can’t be SERIOUS!” Rainbow yelled.

Rarity rolled her eyes, still wearing a cross expression as she and the others stopped near the door. “Well, you’d best conduct your sweep then. This rain isn’t getting any lighter.”

“I’m sorry, guys!” Rainbow said. “I’m so, so, so, so sorry!”

“Hush, Rainbow Dash. Honestly, you’re so ungrateful sometimes. The guards are here for a reason. Don’t begrudge them their job. They’re meant to keep you safe.”

Rainbow grumbled. Ungrateful. Heck of a way to spin it.

She suddenly realized that neither of the guards had moved from her side. She gawked up at them. “What are you still doing here?”

The left guard bit down on his lower lip. “If one of us ventures inside to perform the sweep, that means there will only be one of us left outside here with you. You… might get wet, Princess.”

“GET IN THERE AND DO YOUR STUPID THING ALREADY!”

Five minutes later, the guards had given the establishment the green light, and Rainbow and her friends were finally out of the storm, seated in one of the booths. Rarity looked like a wet dog, and Applejack, Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy weren’t much better. Even though Rarity had given them the umbrella, they’d all gotten drenched.

Rainbow, on the other hoof, wasn’t wet at all. A fact she didn’t exactly feel good about.

“Golly, what a storm!” said Applejack. She took off her stetson hat and started wringing out her hair.

Rarity looked horrified. “Applejack! That’s appalling!”

“What? A pony’s gotta get dry.”

“Well, there are certain things a pony shouldn’t do at the table!”

A loud skreeeeeeeeee! filled the room as Pinkie Pie pulled a hair dryer out of thin air and put it on full blast, her lips flapping in the jet stream.

Rarity groaned. “Honestly!”

The restaurant was deserted, save for them. The rest the tables stood mute, clean, and polished, patiently waiting for customers who wouldn’t dare leave their homes on a gloomy day like today—especially not in the wake of what had happened on the East Coast. But the music still wafted over the speakers, and the dim, soothing lighting reflected in the chrome of the napkin dispensers.

Behind the counter, near the open door that led off to the kitchen, the lone waiter on duty was speaking frantically to the cook. Every now and then, he would turn animatedly and point to where the five of them were sitting, with a nervousness about him that raised the hairs on the back of Rainbow’s neck. Eventually, he ambled over to their table with a stack of menus and gave one to Rainbow.

“Hello, and welcome to Filly’s!” he said—Rainbow took the menu and started leafing through it, already drooling at the thought of normal food that didn’t come out of the Canterlot Castle kitchens—“And may I just say what an honor it is to have royalty dine in our restaurant today. We’re so very honored, Princess Aurora. It’s not every day we have somepony like you come down from the capital…”

Rainbow slumped down, suddenly less interested in what was on the menu than in hiding her face behind it.

“…and might I say, if Princess Celestia or Princess Luna would like to sample our food sometime, we’d be more than happy to—”

“Bosco. It’s me. Rainbow Dash, remember?” She gave him a pleading look. “I live here in Ponyville? Watered your daffodils that one time?”

“Oh. Er, right. Princess Rainbow Dash. I’m so very sorry,” the waiter said. “But like I was saying, our restaurant would be happy to host a party from Canterlot, if you’d be willing to pass along the invita—”

“Ahem,” Rarity cleared her throat.

The waiter’s head swiveled, his eyes blinking stupidly, as if he’d only just remembered there were four other ponies there aside from Rainbow. Fluttershy looked bored, Applejack was drumming her hoof on the table, Rarity had her arms folded, and Pinkie was amusing herself attempting to balance a spoon off the end of her nose.

“Um, what?” the waiter said.

Rarity glared at him. “Our menus, please?”

“Oh! Right!”

A sweat broke out on his brow as he passed out the rest of the menus he was holding. “I’ll be back in a couple minutes to take your orders. I do hope everything is to your satisfaction, Princess!”

And with that, he scurried off.

“Well, I know somepony who won’t be receiving much of a tip,” Rarity muttered to herself.

The five friends lapsed into silence.

On the surface, they weren’t talking because they were all supposed to be busy figuring out what to order. But as Rainbow sat there, squirming in her seat, she couldn’t help feeling like… like there was something more to it than that.

The celebrity treatment was really getting stale. Give her a fan club to tell her how awesome she was for saving other ponies, sure! An audience of spectators cheering her on as she blew ’em away with her flying skills, no problem! But this whole princess thing? It was like… what did she have to take pride in?

She hadn’t done anything. She hadn’t earned it.

And besides, how the hay was anypony supposed to recognize her for her achievements if they couldn’t see past her wings and this dumb, stupid horn? She wanted ponies to appreciate her for all the cool things she could do, not because she was Celestia’s daughter, or whatever!

But no. Apparently, that was asking way too much.

Being an alicorn was like… like… like constantly wearing a billboard, each and every bucking place she went. A billboard that she couldn’t hide or take off. A big, flashing, neon billboard, painted with the words, “Insert false praise here, get favor.”

Only she hated false praise, and she wasn’t a personal favor dispenser, and she was sick of being used for her supposed connections with Celestia, damn it! She barely even knew Celestia!

But more than any of that, she was terrified all this special treatment was helping drive a wedge between her and the rest of her friends.

Everything felt so… messed up right now.

It wasn’t just because of Sweetie Belle. Already, that made everything totally bizarre. But that wasn’t the only reason for it.

She felt like the entire dynamic between her and the others had been altered while she’d been away in Canterlot. The group and her place in it… Her relationship with her friends. There was an aura of weird that seemed to hang over everything like a sickening cloud.

Or was it just her?

Maybe she had it all wrong. Maybe her friends still felt totally normal around her, and she was the only one who felt awkward. She wasn’t sure. Was she off-balance because she was looking at things the wrong way, or was it because the ground had actually shifted?

“Sooooo…” she said, eager to break the ice. “…How’s the farm, A.J.?”

Applejack gave her a wry smile. “Well…”

The cowpony launched into an account of recent events. Preparations for the coming zap apple harvest. Construction on a new silo. Just a bunch of simple, mundane stuff that Rainbow was all too happy to listen to. The kind of stuff she’d left behind when she’d gone away to Canterlot on that golden chariot. The kind of stuff she missed.

Yet all the while, she sat with a lead weight in the pit of her stomach, certain the conversation would eventually come back around to her.

It did.

“So Dashie! How’s princess life treating ya?” Pinkie asked.

The muscles in Rainbow’s shoulders coiled in tension. It was probably the first time in her life she didn’t want to talk about herself.

Mercifully, the waiter came back just then. “Can I take your orders?”

“Just a salad and a glass of water, dear,” said Rarity.

Fluttershy nodded. “Make that two.”

“Think I’ll have the apple fritters,” said Applejack.

“Ooh! Chocolate cake! Chocolate cake!” Pinkie Pie, of course.

Rainbow’s eyes danced across the menu. It all looked… so… good.

“I’ll have ten daisyburgers and hayfries.” she declared.

The waiter’s face tweaked. “T-Ten?”

“And a pineapple pizza… three burritos… a grilled cheese sandwich… mashed potatoes and gravy… guacamole… egg foo young… oh, yeah, and a chocolate malt, that sounds awesome!”

Fluttershy looked at Rainbow strangely. “Um… are you sure—?”

“Look, you guys don’t know the kind of garbage they try to pass off as food in Canterlot! I’m hungry, okay?”

The waiter shrugged, jotted down the order, and hurried off again.

“I take it life in paradise ain’t all it’s cracked up to be?” Applejack said.

Rainbow scowled. “It sucks.”

“Oh, nonsense, you silly thing!” chided Rarity. “I’m sure it’s all simply exquisite! Canterlot—The glamor! The excitement! You really should try to be less ungrateful for it all.”

There was that word again. Ungrateful.

“Whatever,” Rainbow muttered.

She stared down at the table. A fork and knife had been set there, right beside the empty appetizer dish. For no real reason, she reached out and started to play with them, pushing them idly across the wood.

“Now then, Dash, here’s what I’d really like to talk to you about.”

Rarity leaned forward, brushing aside the silverware and placing her pearly white hoof on top of Rainbow’s blue one.

“The guards,” she said.

Rainbow stared and pulled back her hoof. “What about ’em?”

“We need them. Here in Ponyville. Sweetie Belle needs them.”

“Uh…”

“Now see here, it isn’t fair of Celestia to withhold them. My father and sister were ruthlessly and deliberately attacked! They require some kind of protection!”

“But… There’s already, like, a bajillion Royal Guard unicorns with big, pointy spears backing up every police station from here to Trottingham,” Rainbow said. “Not to mention a bajillion more pegasi flying patrols over every major city in Equestria, plus Ponyville.”

“That’s all well and good, but my Sweetie Belle needs more than that. She needs a personal escort, like the one you enjoy!”

“I don’t ‘enjoy’ anything!”

“But you do!”

Rarity leaned forward again.

“Please, Rainbow Dash, for Sweetie Belle’s sake. You can convince the guards! Surely they can spare one or two bodies?”

Rainbow gave a hollow laugh. “What, you think they’re just gonna do what I tell ’em to? Me and them don’t exactly see eye-to-eye.”

“But you are the Princess Aurora! To be certain, I can think of at least one pony in Canterlot you might speak to on our behalf. Somepony with the authority to post guards on a whim.”

“Look, if you’re talking about Captain Jerkface—”

“I’m talking about Princess Celestia!”

Rainbow grit her teeth and tried to clamp down on her annoyance. To her credit, she didn’t let it show. Not too much, anyway.

“What about Celestia?”

“Well, you are her daughter, after all, and you’ve been with each other for these past many days! Surely you must have some currency with her by now?”

“Nope. Still flat broke.”

Rarity feigned a laugh. “Oh, you are a riot!”

“Look, what is it you want, Rare?” Rainbow asked, crossing her hooves as she leaned back in the booth. Her eyes locked with Rarity’s, a stubborn glare pitted against a mercenary glint.

“Only for you to put in a word with the Princess on our behalf. Now, I know you’ve moved up in the world, darling, and you’re living the palace lifestyle now. But you mustn’t forget us little ponies who were there for you before you discovered your lineage!”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, Rainbow! Of course! After all, when you’ve concluded your visit here, you’ll return to Canterlot and resume living in pomp and splendor, but the rest of us who remain will be forced to endure the most barbaric conditions! You don’t know what it’s like to live here in Ponyville!”

Rainbow’s eye twitched. “Pretty sure I do, actually.”

“Oh, please, Dash. You know what I meant to sa—”

“You know, considering I’ve lived here since I was twelve.”

Rarity’s face softened. “I’m sorry, dear. It’s just… It’s been hard for me, these last few days, knowing that my family was just—that Sweetie Belle and my father—that they could have been—”

The unicorn looked away, tears threatening.

And Rainbow instantly felt like the biggest ass in the world.

“Rarity…”

“I’m the Bearer of Generosity. I have been ever since we stopped Nightmare Moon. But never did I once consider…”

She looked back up.

“Who would have thought an attack against Equestria could ever be a possibility? But it happened. It happened. And whomever is responsible—whether it’s this… Ascendancy, or somepony else—aren’t they just as able to strike at Equestria by attacking the Bearers themselves? By attacking us? And if that’s so, then what does that mean for our friends and families? Is my Sweetie Belle still in the line of fire? What about Applebloom? What about Scootaloo, Rainbow Dash!”

Rainbow’s ears flattened against her head as the implications swam in her mind’s eye. Visions of a little orange filly, hurt, crying, alone, caught up in something bigger than herself…

Rarity was right, wasn’t she? Scootaloo wasn’t Rainbow’s sister, but it wasn’t exactly a secret what a fanatical devotion the kid had for her. She could get roped into this just as easily as Sweetie Belle had.

She bit her lip. “Celestia will keep everypony safe,” she said lamely.

“You mean like how she kept my sister safe?”

Something in Rarity’s tone rubbed Rainbow the wrong way. But what could she say to the pony with a sister in the hospital?

“Please, Rainbow Dash. Be a friend,” said Rarity. “A true friend would agree to help. A true friend would do everything she could.”

“Look—” Rainbow’s voice was uneven. “If… If you really want, I’ll try to get Celestia to post more guards. I’ll try.”

“That’s all I can ask of you, dear,” Rarity replied. She gave Rainbow an encouraging smile. “A few extra guards isn’t too much to ask. And really, it’s the least Princess Celestia can do to make amends.”

With that said, Rarity finally sat back and relaxed. Satisfied, at last, to have gotten what she wanted. And that probably would have been the end of it—the conversation would have moved on, lunch would have arrived, Pinkie would have cracked a joke or two, and the five friends would have come together and enjoyed the afternoon.

It probably would have turned out that way.

But after spending a week and a half in the capital, Rainbow had finally figured out there was such a thing as subtlety in a conversation.

“Make amends for what?” she asked.

Her eyes narrowed.

Rarity looked surprised. “Whatever are you talking about, darling?”

“You said, ‘It’s the least Princess Celestia can do to make amends.’ What do you mean? What’s she got to make amends for?”

“It’s—well—I—” Rarity stammered.

She seemed to grasp for the right words. But a second later, her brows drew together, and her face hardened with indignation.

“For what she allowed to happen to Sweetie Belle, of course!”

“For what she allowed to happen,” Rainbow echoed icily.

“Well, yes! Posting guards is the least she can do! My Sweetie Belle and I deserve better than to have our lives put in danger for her purposes. What happened is her fault in the first place, and to be treated like second-class citizens on top of it is the epitome of—”

“What?”

A sudden, inexplicable anger tore through Rainbow Dash. She jumped up, front hooves on the table, bristling with a fury she couldn’t explain, the feathers on her azure wings standing tall, like battle-ready soldiers. “What do you mean this is Celestia’s fault?!”

“Oh, Rainbow, darling. Don’t be so uncouth.”

“Uncouth?!”

At this point, Applejack finally thought to intervene. “Um, girls? Maybe y’all had better—“

“It was because of Celestia that nopony was killed!”

“It was because of Celestia that my Sweetie Belle ALMOST DIED!”

They were nose-to-nose over the table now. Close enough for Rainbow to see the tears glimmering at the corners of Rarity’s eyes.

Why am I getting so mad over stupid Celestia?

The question poked at the edge of her mind.

She felt Applejack’s hooves on her shoulders, gently pulling her down, guiding her back into her seat. “Now, Rarity, you ain’t bein’ fair,” she heard the earth pony say.

“Talk to my Sweetie Belle about fair!”

“We know the Princess. She’s done more for us five than most ponies could ever ask for. Come on now, you know she’d never intentionally put your sister or anypony else in danger!” Applejack said. “Y’all are just… hay, what’s the word them psychologizers have for it… projectin’ your anger. T’ain’t rational, and t’ain’t right.”

Rarity met the cowpony’s gaze. “Be honest, Applejack. Suppose it had been Applebloom caught in the crossfire. How would you react?”

“I… well…”

Applejack fell silent, and Rarity put on a satisfied little smirk.

“Exactly.”

“I don’t believe this,” muttered Rainbow.

“And as for you, Rainbow Dash,” Rarity fired back, that ice-blue glare filled with reproach. “Try being a little more loyal to your friends.”

“Are you serious?”

“My Sweetie Belle was nearly killed. How serious do you think I am?”

“I don’t know. I’m still trying to decide if this is all one big joke.”

“Ooh! Ooh! I like jokes!” Pinkie chimed in.

“N-Now, girls,” said Applejack, “I realize emotions are high right now, and this is a tough time for both of you, but maybe we should all hold our horses for a spell. You know, let things cool down a little.”

“‘A tough time for both of us?’” Rarity repeated incredulously. “How is this a tough time for anypony but me? Your family didn’t come within an inch of death, Applejack!”

“I—well—”

“And how can this possibly be a tough time for her, of all ponies? She doesn’t have to live in constant fear here in Ponyville! She’ll go back to the castle, to live in peace and security while the rest of us are in danger! For goodness sake, she doesn’t even have a family here left to lose!”

“SHUT UP!”

The lights flickered as the alicorn’s voice BOOMED in their ears.

Rainbow was up out of the booth, wings snapping furiously, sneering down at Rarity with fire-filled eyes. “You are the DUMBEST pony I’ve ever met!” she yelled.

Rarity was startled at first, but she recovered quickly. “How dare you!” she said. “Is this what friendship means to you? Crude insults and temper tantrums? The Princess put Sweetie Belle’s life at risk, but you won’t even admit to that! Some Element of Harmony—it’s obvious where your loyalty truly lies!”

“I hope you DO get attacked!” Rainbow spat.

The unicorn stiffened in her seat. “You can’t mean that.”

“I DO! I hope somepony DOES attack you! And whoever they are, I hope they give you a FAT LIP!”

Rarity sputtered, her face flushing beet red. “You—You—!”

“Girls! Please!” Applejack tried, hopelessly.

“I was GONNA help you, but now, you can go buck yourself!” Rainbow shouted. “You and Sweetie Belle can hide in a bucking closet for all I care! Go make out with your precious Tristar if you want extra guards posted—it’s obvious you two were MADE FOR EACH OTHER!”

Rainbow spun around and took off. She blew out the restaurant doors so fast, she sent the two pegasus guards whirling. A second later, they gave chase, their voices rapidly fading into the distance: “P-P-Princess Aurora! Wait! Waaaaaaaaaait…!”

Which left four fillies to sit and stew back inside.

Rarity sniffled and held back tears, while Pinkie Pie had a cotton swab stuffed halfway down her ear, working hard to re-kajigger her blown-out hearing. Applejack just slouched and facehoofed.

“Well, that escalated quickly,” she deadpanned.

Fluttershy meekly peeked out from underneath the table. “Is… Is the fighting all over?”

Applejack helped her up. “I reckon so, Sugarcube,” she said with a sigh. “Leastways, things can’t get any worse.”

Just then, the waiter wobbled over, balancing ten daisyburgers and a dozen other plates piled high with food.

“So, will that be one check or separate?” he asked as he looked at the four of them expectantly.

By the time Twilight Sparkle descended into town a short while later, the weather was even worse. The fat, blustery droplets of a few hours ago had retreated into themselves, becoming cold and dagger-sharp, and she felt them crash down on her back as the chariot dipped below the clouds, like little icicles on her back.

The fog drifted lazily, covering the earth in a shifting soup. Up through the haze poked the rooftops of Ponyville, gabled summits floating above the mist like boats on a marsh, ghostly and passengerless.

It’s appropriate, really. Metaphorical. The liquid precipitation, the substandard visibility conditions, the northerly air currents of somewhat below average temperature. If the dew point were a few degrees lower, it would be a perfect meteorological tribute to the somberness of the national mood.

Despite herself, Twilight managed a smirk. She could be a poet.

Yeah. A tribute to the national mood. Not to mention her own mood. That swirling sky, the color of old white bone, seemed a perfect analogue for the queasiness in her own stomach.

It wasn’t because of her brother.

Lying there in that Canterlot hospital, all done up in bandages…

It wasn’t because of her brother.

Lying there… Sedated… Unconscious…

Shining was fine. He’d be out in a week. Hopefully.

The beep of the heart monitor… Cadence, wispy-eyed at his side…

It was a purely professional state of queasiness. A logical, reasonable, intellectually-justifiable queasiness. A totally appropriate, totally normal, totally predictable queasiness response.

She was in control of her emotions.

Completely.

Her completely stupid, illogical, unscientific emotions.

She sighed.

“If it isn’t too much trouble, could you gentlecolts please fly a little bit faster?” she asked the charioteers. “My friends are waiting for me.”

“You got it, Miss Sparkle.”

They kicked it into gear, swooping over the village with purpose. The gray earth tilted upward and filled the unicorn’s field of view as they raced down, down, keeping pace with the falling rain, down, toward Ponyville, down, toward the restaurant.

Twilight chided herself. There was no reason to be concerned. Shining and Sweetie Belle would both be fine.

I just hope I will, too.

She didn’t stay long.

“Let’s go,” she called out to the drivers. The doors swung shut behind her, and she made a splash with each hoofstep as she waded back over to the chariot through ankle-deep water.

“Where to?” one of the armored stallions asked.

“East. Out beyond the edge of town,” Twilight replied, climbing back into the cart. “I’ll tell you when we get there.”

Seconds later, they were back in the air. They weren’t flying with the wind this time, and so it buffeted them as they soared back up, knocking them turbulently from here to there.

Twilight braced herself against the golden rail. The cold breath of the storm hit her in the side, seemed to pierce between her ribs and chill her whole body from the inside-out. She shivered.

Below them, the town dwellings began to thin out, supplanted by the fields and fog-drenched meadows of the countryside. The shady walks of Whitetail Wood lay south from here, and Canterlot to the north, although the banks of mist rolling through the trees made the peaceful forest look about as inviting as Everfree, and she couldn’t catch glimpse of Atlas Rise at all through the oppressive wall of gray.

But then, from out of the haze, their destination melded into view.

“There it is,” Twilight said, pointing down.

Rainbow’s house had seen better days. The waterfalls were gone, the colorful streams all dried up. The columns had gone askew, some leaning sideways, others fallen altogether.

All in all, it looked about as stark, grim, and depressing as everything else cloud-related Twilight had seen today.

“Set us down there,” she said, indicating to the front drive.

The stallions spread their wings and swooped in for a perfect landing on the fluff. Twilight checked her cloud walking spell, then hopped out of the chariot and made for the door.

She knocked.

She waited a minute.

Then she knocked again.

When there was still no response from inside, she tried the doorknob, and she was surprised to find it unlocked. The handle turned without any protest. The door inched ajar.

“Miss Sparkle,” said one of the drivers. “Please allow us to accompany you. Given the ongoing security situation—”

“Stay here,” said Twilight.

The stallion balked. “But—But Miss Sparkle—”

“Stay here. I’ll be fine. Don’t follow me.”

Twilight stepped into the front hall and shut the door behind her. Her eyes strained to see in the dim interior. Shadows draped about the place in defiance of the gray light from the windows, and she heard the sound of curtains blowing in the wind in distant rooms.

“Rainbow Dash?” she called out.

There was no reply.

She pressed on anyway.

The pillars of the foyer gave way to an airy den. Twilight wandered in, her hooves clicking noisily against the checkerboard floor.

“Hello? Is anypony here?”

The room answered her with silence, and a quick scan of it turned up no sign of Rainbow. Only dust and disarray.

As a roll of thunder rose above the pitter-patter of the rain, Twilight’s eyes drew to the barren fireplace, and to the picture hanging crooked on the wall above it: the painted blue sky fading to black as a brilliant ray of color spiraled into nothingness.

She sighed.

It felt strange even being here, in this house so dark and derelict. Like standing in the middle of an empty heart, desolate and familiar. And she would have left right then—

—if not for the sudden crash! from upstairs.

Her head snapped in the direction of the noise, her breath catching in her throat. The frown on her face deepened.

Two seconds and a teleport later, Twilight was at the top of the steps, peering cautiously around the upstairs landing. The door to the bedroom stood open at the end of the hall. Through it, she heard the telltale sound of somepony muttering and rummaging through their belongings, and as she approached, she spied a familiar cyan pony near an open closet.

“Rainbow Dash!”

Rainbow was so wrapped up in… whatever it was she was doing, the sound of Twilight’s voice made her jump. She spun around in surprise, and something flew from her hooves and landed on the floor.

“Whaaa? Twi? What are you doing here?”

Twilight bit her lip at the sight of Rainbow’s room. Every drawer and cabinet stood ajar, their contents seemingly tempest-tossed. Trinkets and knick-knacks were strewn across every surface, and what few articles of clothing Rainbow owned were currently decorating the floor.

“Wow. What a mess,” she murmured.

Rainbow shot her a look. “I’m gonna assume you have a better reason for breaking into my home than to rag on me for my housekeeping.”

Twilight’s face flushed. “I… Sorry. I guess it isn’t my place to criticize you for being so disorganized.”

Rainbow stared disbelievingly for a second. Then she raised her eyes to the ceiling and gave it a beleaguered sort of look. A sigh of resignation blew past her lips.

Her wings fired into a lazy motion, and she drifted, grumbling, across the room to pick up the thing she’d dropped before. A book, Twilight now realized as she watched Rainbow scoop it up.

“I went to the restaurant and talked to Rarity,” Twilight said. “I heard about the… the disagreement you two had over lunch. And I bumped into your guard detail. They were in such a panic over losing you, I thought I’d better try to track you down.”

Rainbow didn’t even bother to glance up. “Long as you don’t tell them where to find me,” she replied, her gaze angled downward as she flipped through the pages.

Twilight’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want ’em here.” She snapped the book closed. “Didn’t you see the sign on your way in?”

“Sign? What sign?”

“The one on the front door that says, ‘No Guards Allowed.’”

Rainbow gave Twilight an appraising look. But a few seconds later, it flickered and turned to a frown. “Gah. I didn’t put it up, did I? Knew I forgot to do something…”

“Do you… want to talk about what happened with Rarity?”

“Rarity’s an idiot!” Rainbow snarled, with a furious expression on her face that made it clear she wasn’t about to be lectured. “If you came here to try and get me to apologize, you can just bucking forget it, ’cause no way in hay am I gonna—!”

“Okay! Okay! Subject dropped!”

In the seconds that followed, some of the heat drained out of Rainbow. But her posture remained tense, defensive—and she stared at Twilight in a suspicious, so-why-are-you-still-here sort of way.

“So, uh…” Twilight fumbled for something to fill the awkward silence. “I love what you’ve done with your home. It’s very… lived-in.”

“You mean to say it looks like a tornado went through her.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have used those exact words, but—”

Rainbow gave a snort and a toss of her mane. “Psh. Whaddaya expect? She’s a high-maintenance house, and she doesn’t react well when folks up and leave her. Actually, I think she’s held up pretty good. I was half expecting to come home and find her blown clear across the Everfree Forest, but it looks like I lucked out.”

In spite of the rather… chilly… reception, Twilight buckled down and forced herself to enter the room. A trio of pegasi in blue flight suits stared questioningly down at her from a poster on the wall, as if to ask her what she was even doing there.

Rainbow, meanwhile, finished checking over her book. She gave a flap and bounded through the air, dropping it neatly into a suitcase on the bed. A suitcase festooned with Wonderbolts stickers.

“You’re packing,” Twilight said.

It wasn’t a question.

Rainbow shrugged. “Yeah. Figured I might as well.”

“You’re not… actually giving up on all of this, are you? When I told you to go to Canterlot, I never meant for you to have to move out of your own home. You know that, right?”

“I’m not moving out. I’m just… grabbing a few things, that’s all.”

“Just grabbing a few things,” she echoed.

“Yeah,” said Rainbow. “Don’t know the next time I’ll have a chance to hit up Ponyville, so I figured, since I’m in town, why not pack some stuff to bring back with me to Canterlot? Not a lot. Just… you know… some of the things that matter.”

Twilight sauntered over and levitated the book. Her eyebrow perked at the title: Little Green Gallopinghood and Other Classic Bedtime Stories for Fillies and Colts.

“Branching out from Daring Do?” she asked.

Rainbow made a desperate lunge and tore the book from her magical grasp. “I—No!” she sputtered, color rising to her cheeks as she hugged the beat-up old paperback to her chest. “Look, Twi, if you’re gonna be a pain, maybe you should just—”

“Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to embarrass you!” Twilight said quickly. “I still keep my children’s books, too. In fact, I have a whole shelf devoted to them at my parents’ house in Canterlot.”

“Good for you,” Rainbow muttered.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s odd or peculiar at all. There isn’t anything wrong with keeping a book you treasure from your past. In fact, I think it speaks highly of you. It’s a very noble thing to do.”

Rainbow’s teeth clenched. “Great. Noble. Just what I always wanted to be. The world’s awesomest, noblest pegasus.”

“Rainbow Dash—”

“Except I’m not even a pegasus anymore, am I?” Rainbow kicked the air uselessly, a scowl rolling across her face like a thunderhead in front of the blue, open sky. “What’s the point in keeping any of this junk? Home isn’t home anymore, nothing’s right, nopony’s the same, and my whole damn life’s just as screwed up as my house.”

Twilight felt more than a little helpless as she watched Rainbow turn and float back over to the bed.

“Look, I know you’re having a hard time adjusting to all this, but—”

“Aw, shut it, Twi,” Rainbow snapped.

She held in her anger for a few seconds more. Then a sigh rattled out of her, and her shoulders sagged.

She glanced up. Tired.

“A hundred people get hurt in some sick attack, Rarity’s sister’s in the hospital, and all I do is get mad and yell at ponies,” she murmured. “Some awesome pegasus.”

Gingerly, Rainbow set the old book down in the suitcase, and then she flitted back over to her closet to continue rummaging.

Twilight watched her, the gears in her head turning, the frown on her face still adamantly refusing to abate. Undeterred, she peered down over the lip of the suitcase to see what else Rainbow had packed.

There were some trophies in there, and ribbons of all sizes and colors tucked away in the pockets. But those were all shoved to the sides. What really took Twilight aback were all the… well, the mundane items Rainbow Dash stashed away.

The golden stub from her ticket to the Grand Galloping Gala.

A battered old horseshoe, engraved, “Iron Pony – 1st Place. ”

The colorful, cloud-studded dress Rarity had made for her, folded up along with the flight team garb Rainbow wore every Winter Wrap Up.

A photo of the six of them together on a bright, blue day, taken in one of the fields out near Fluttershy’s cottage. Twilight felt the corners of her mouth pull upwards at the sight of it. She remembered this photograph. She remembered taking it, and how she’d enclosed a copy of it along with her very first friendship report to Princess Celestia. It had been right after the defeat of Nightmare Moon, when their friendship was still so new and they barely knew each other. It seemed like so long ago…

And sitting there at the top of the pile, the creased and dog-eared copy of Little Green Gallopinghood. Right next to… Right next to the one item in the bunch she didn’t recognize.

She picked it up.

It was another old photograph. Black and white, and lovingly framed. Twilight had never had a chance to meet the two ponies in the picture, but she could guess who they were easily enough, and she took a moment to study their features. The kindly old eyes on the stallion, and the motherly smile on the mare.

Rainbow Dash was in the picture too, in her own way. For whatever reason, she hadn’t been in the original shot, but she’d fixed that by tearing herself out of a different photograph and slipping it into the gap between the frame and the glass. The result was a full-color likeness of Rainbow as a filly that sprung up beneath the pale-faced couple. She looked younger and spikier than Twilight had ever seen her, but she still had her patented daredevil grin. And if you stared at the composite for long enough, at just the right angle, it almost looked like she belonged there.

Father, mother, and daughter. The three of them, alive and together in a frozen moment in time.

But now this was becoming a little too personal for her liking. She was here to talk to Rainbow, not to snoop on her. Seeing the relics of her past laid out like this… For the first time since breaking into Rainbow’s house, she actually felt like she was trespassing.

Reverently, she placed the picture back down where she’d found it. As she did, her eyes fell upon the book again. Bedtime Stories for Fillies and Colts, the cover read.

Her eyes flickered from the book to the photo. Then back to the book again. Then back to the photo.

In that moment, she thought she understood.

“Princess Aurora!”

A sudden voice made them both jump. There in the door were the two pegasus guards she’d left outside by the chariot, looking all too happy with themselves. Shoulder to shoulder, they began to advance, stomping their way into the sanctity of Rainbow’s bedroom.

Twilight saw every well-toned muscle in Rainbow’s body coil, saw her wings ripple and flare open, every primary and secondary and covert and alular standing on end as a wildfire of rage blazed across her face. “They can’t come in here,” she snarled.

“Princess Aurora! Thank Celestia we’ve found you!”

“I told you gentlecolts not to follow me in!” Twilight cried.

“Sorry, Miss Sparkle. We got anxious,” one of them said. Then, pushing his way past her and closing in on Rainbow, “Your security detachment’s been looking everywhere for you! Word just came down the lieutenant’s called a search. He’ll be glad to have you back!”

“Get out of my house.”

If the guards heard her, they paid her no mind. Instead, they came up on either side of her, boxing her into a corner, cutting off her escape. The talkative one even went so far as to place his hoof upon her shoulder, as if to help guide her out. Rainbow stared down at it in a cold fury.

“Allow us to escort you, Princess!”

“Let go of me. And get. Out.”

“Please, Princess. If you’ll just cooperate and come with us—”

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

Rainbow’s voice crashed over them like a tidal wave.

The offending guard let go and took a step back. “Princess—”

“GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!”

A CRACK! of thunder boomed all around them, rattling their teeth and their souls, the lights flickered out, the room plunged into darkness, save for Rainbow’s eyes, shining bright with a terrifying radiance, and for the briefest moment, Twilight could only look on in awestruck horror as the ceiling swirled like a hurricane above her, and as electricity began to leap from the walls in crackling yellow arcs. She dove for cover behind the bed, a counterspell already glowing at the tip of her horn—

But before she could get it off, the guards ran screaming out the door with their tails between their legs, bursting through an open window and taking off into the sky.

The room gradually brightened as the lights came back on. The walls stopped sparking. The ceiling stood still.

Half in a daze, Twilight peeked over the wispy mattress and gaped at Rainbow Dash. Her friend’s eyes were back to their normal shade of pink, the power gone out of her as she leaned against the dresser, panting.

“R-Rainbow…”

“…Yeah?”

“That was—That was—”

To Twilight’s complete and utter disbelief, Rainbow’s face eased into a lopsided grin. “Pretty awesome, right?”

Twilight’s jaw dropped. “NO! That was the most UN-AWESOME thing I’ve ever SEEN!”

“…I thought you said ‘un-awesome’ wasn’t a word.”

“WHEN DID I EVER SAY THAT?”

Rainbow stared at her quizzically. “Uh. Like, a week ago, when I got your hot air balloon trashed. Remember?”

“Argh!” Twilight facehoofed.

“But seriously, did you see the way those creeps ran outta here like a couple scared foals?” Rainbow snickered. “That was pretty great, right?”

“You ALWAYS do this!”

“What?”

“THIS! You always do something stupid, and reckless, and immature, and you NEVER think about anypony other than yourself!”

Rainbow’s face fell. “What? So I’m just supposed to let ’em kidnap me out of my own home?” she asked, the anger and frustration surging back into her voice.

“The guards are just following orders! Keeping you safe is their JOB!”

“Their JOB is to clip my wings and keep me under Tristar’s big, dumb hoof, and I’m TIRED of it!”

“You’ve GOT to learn some self-control! ESPECIALLY over your own abilities—I’ve never seen such a flagrant abuse of magic—”

“I DIDN’T ASK FOR THIS!” Rainbow yelled, jabbing at her horn. With a furious flap of her wings, she charged across the room, face-to-livid-face with Twilight as she hovered there, mere inches between them. “I DIDN’T ASK FOR ANY OF THIS! You think I know how this is supposed to WORK? I woke up from a bad headache, and now everything’s different! Nopony looks at me the same, nopony treats me the same, everypony expects me to be somepony I’m not! I can’t BE the pony you want me to be, Twilight! I don’t know how!”

Twilight stood her ground. “The least you can do is respect the ponies who are there to keep you safe! If Princess Celestia didn’t mean for them to protect you, she wouldn’t have appointed them to the task!”

With a roll of her eyes, Rainbow touched down, stuck her hoof in her mouth, and whistled.

From high atop one of the shelves, there came a flash of orange. A tiny spark of fire blazed to life, then began to curl outward, growing to a hardy blaze. It sprouted wings and a pair of talons, and it gave a loud “CAW!” as the flames coalesced to a familiar shape.

Twilight gasped. “Philomena!”

Rainbow held out a hoof, and the phoenix swooped down to perch.

Flashbacks of Fluttershy’s bird-napping escapades played like a slow motion train wreck in Twilight’s mind. “Rainbow Dash, w-w-what are you doing with the royal pet?” she asked nervously, a queasy feeling rising in her stomach.

“Philomena, meet Twilight Sparkle. Twi, meet Philomena, my Celestia-appointed bodyguard. Bet you feel dumb now, huh?”

A stunned silence was that question’s reward. Rainbow seized on the opportunity to think, her brow scrunching up ponderously. She frowned to herself.

“Er… Actually, I guess you two have probably already met, right? That one time last year after the royal brunch when you and Flutters screwed the pooch—”

Philomena buried her head in her wing and made a retching sound.

“Princess Celestia… gave you her pet phoenix? Why?” Twilight finally found her voice.

“I dunno, ’cause she’s my mom or something? ’Cause she saw through Tristar’s crap and decided to cut me some slack? ’Cause she felt guilty for ruining my life?”

The words spewed from Rainbow’s mouth like venom. She gave her hoof a shake, sending Philomena flying off with an indignant squawk. And with that, the little blue alicorn turned and retreated to her suitcase, her ears flat and her head held low, prismatic tail dragging across the floor like a frayed, worn-out paintbrush.

And the sneer on Rainbow’s face collapsed to depression.

Not that Twilight had a mind to recognize it. She was fuming, the shock of Philomena all but worn off and the adrenaline of the argument back in full swing.

“How can you even talk like that?” Her voice dipped dangerously low, her brain working itself into a frenzy, unearthing memory after memory, as if gathering evidence she could use to throw in her friend’s stupid face and proclaim, ‘Here, Rainbow. Here’s why you’re wrong:’—Memories of study sessions under Celestia’s watchful eye. Of evenings spent curled up next to each other with a good book, and nights spent stargazing. Of all the happiness, and the wisdom, and the joy…

Twilight glared. “You don’t know how lucky you are. Princess Celestia is the most special pony in the entire world. But you’re too blind to see it.”

“Look, Twi—”

“Do you know what I would give to be in your place? To be something other than just her student?”

Rainbow groaned. “Look, I’m sorry about—”

“No. I’ve heard enough. I can’t believe how ungrateful you are.”

The change that came over Rainbow Dash was apocalyptic.

“YOU KNOW WHAT? Why don’t you just GET OUT!”

Twilight barely had time to dodge before the lamp flew past her head and smashed against the wall, and by then Rainbow was already airborne, descending on her like a bird of prey. Over on the bookcase, the actual bird of prey cocked her head to the side at the show of aggression. Philomena winced and flitted up to a higher shelf.

“But—”

“I DON’T CARE! GET OUT!”

“But I—”

“OUUUUUUUUUUT!”

As she backed up, making note of the positively murderous look in her friend’s eyes, Twilight was forced to consider the possibility that she may have taken her criticisms a teensy bit too far.

“Fine! I’m leaving!” she shouted.

She backed up cautiously, too worried about being pegged in the head with a vase or an alarm clock to turn her back. Rainbow floated above her and watched her go with a leer.

Then Twilight’s front hoof clanged against something metal.

Her eyes darted down to it. So did Rainbow’s.

It was a circular headband of shining yellow gold, with two ornamental pegasus wings at the temples and a bolt of lightning grafted at the crown. And though it lay on the floor, kicked aside and forgotten, Twilight knew it in an instant.

“Rainbow… It’s the trophy you won for your sonic rainboom.”

“I know what it is!” Rainbow said, a growl rising in her throat. “What are you still DOING here?”

Twilight ignored her and levitated it off the ground. The pristine band flashed as it twirled in the air, suspended in her magic grip.

“You weren’t planning on leaving this, were you?” she wondered. “You worked so hard for it… Princess Celestia herself gave you this.”

“What do YOU care?”

Rainbow half turned away. Her hooves came up and folded across her chest as she drew into herself.

“Stupid thing’s worthless to me now, anyway,” she muttered. “Doesn’t even fit anymore. They made it for pegasi with normal heads, not ponies with dumb horns that just mess everything up.”

Twilight frowned.

Her horn lit up, and before their eyes, the metal at the front of the band began to change. It shimmered as it turned to liquid: a long, thin strand of molten gold, dangling in the air like stretched taffy. Then it twisted and it shifted, it hardened and compressed, and by the time Twilight was done with it, it was back to looking like its normal self—but with a newly-added notch, big enough to accommodate a unicorn horn.

She tossed it into Rainbow’s open suitcase. “You’re welcome.”

“I… uh…”

Whatever words of anger Rainbow would have had died on her lips as she flew in place, staring.

“Princess Celestia wants me to teach you magic,” Twilight said, and her voice betrayed her still-simmering anger. Her eyes locked with Rainbow’s, stern and unyielding. “Given your attitude, I’m not sure if it’s a good idea or not. But for her sake, I’ll try.”

She turned around and strode out.

“We can start next week,” she called on her way through the door. “Just as soon as you’re done feeling sorry for yourself.”

And the door swung shut behind her with a slam.

Rainbow resumed her efforts, diligently packing while Philomena sat and watched quietly. She had a conflicted look on her face as she worked, and it stayed with her long into the night.