“Celestia, we need to talk,” Twilight said. Half of her mane was missing, and streaks of egg yolk ran down the back of her neck.

From her desk, Celestia flicked a glance up at Twilight, only to snort-laugh and turn away. “Yes?” she said, rising to her hooves. She forced her lips to stop quivering and draped a wing over Twilight’s sticky back. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Technology,” Twilight said, ears flat, as they walked out onto Celestia’s balcony. “Pinkie Pie just bought me this magic-powered egg mixer for one of my kitchens—one of the ones on the 36th floor, I think—and you have to stand right next to it to power it. But the thing is, my mane is so long that whenever I get close to it, my hair gets caught up in it!” She growled and pointed to her ragged scalp. “This is the fifth time this has happened! I can’t keep transplanting hair from my tail to replace it!”

“I see,” Celestia said, “but I’m not quite sure I understand; why did you come all the way to Canterlot to tell me this? Couldn’t you have just written a letter?”

“I came to you because, well…” Twilight took a deep breath and looked out, off the balcony, out onto the setting sun. After a silent moment, she scrunched up her muzzle and blurted out, “I want to have a magic flowing mane, just like you!”

“Oh,” Celestia said. She raised a brow. “Is that all?”

“Well, yeah!” Twilight said, looking up at Celestia. “I suppose it’s just kind of embarrassing…”

“Couldn’t you just get a haircut?” Celestia asked. “You’d look good with a shorter mane.”

“I could, I suppose. But wouldn’t that just be letting technology win? Letting it get the better of me? I’m a scholar—I’m supposed to master new inventions, not be mastered by them!” Twilight sighed. “I’m sorry, I really hate to be a bother about this. I mean, what kind of princess am I that I can’t even handle an egg mixer?”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Celestia cooed, holding Twilight close. “Just last week, I got my horn caught in the royal espresso machine.” She paused. “Don’t ask how.”

“So, is it okay?” Twilight asked. “Can I make my mane as beautiful and magical as yours?”

“You can certainly make it as magical as mine,” Celestia said with a smile. “After all, you've certainly proven yourself as the Princess of Friendship. I don't see any reason why you shouldn't be able to enchant your mane! The process behind it is rather simple, really.”

“That’s good to hear,” Twilight said, returning the smile with a small one of her own. She chuckled and dug a hoof into the floor. “I was talking about it with Rarity the other day, and she had me convinced that you used some sort of special shampoo, made with ‘the tears of angels’ or something.”

“What? That’s ridiculous!” Celestia cried. She held a hoof to her chest. “I use the tears of angels in my body wash. But that’s beside the point—allowing the ethereal winds to inhabit your mane is a simple process. All you need to do is ask!”

“Really?” Twilight’s wings shot up. She turned toward Celestia. “Okay! Can you please give me a flowing mane like yours?” She raised her head high and waited for the familiar tingle of Celestia’s magic to wrap around her head—

Only to stumble back as she felt the cold touch of Celestia’s hoof on her nose. Celestia laughed and shook her head. “I’m afraid you misunderstand, Twilight,” she said. “I’m not the one you have to ask.” Celestia leaned in close and gestured with a wing for Twilight to approach her. She took a quick glance at the balcony doors before whispering into Twilight’s ear: “Faust.”

Twilight raised a brow. “Faust? Who’s that?”

“Faust is the Author of All Beings,” Celestia said, her voice grave. “Faust is more powerful than any alicorn. She is the one true Creator. She makes the rules.”

“Okay…?” Twilight murmured. “If she’s so important, how come I’ve never heard of her?”

“Because few ponies even know she exists,” Celestia said. “When Equestria was first founded, everyone knew her. She was always out and about, milling with her creations. But sometime after the first millennia, she decided to leave. She’s been hiding away ever since.” Celestia placed a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “Faust is the one who will grant you the ethereal wind you desire. She gifted it to me, and she gifted it to Luna.”

Twilight blinked. “What about Cadance?”

Celestia flinched at the name. Rubbing the back of her neck, she turned away. “Cadance, ah… Cadance didn’t follow the rules. Alicorns that don’t follow the rules don’t get magic manes.”

The rules? Twilight thought. An unconscious chill twinkled down Twilight’s back at that. Gulping, she looked out at Canterlot again. “You said she’s been hidden away for millennia, right? She must be living somewhere so remote, so removed from society… It’s probably gonna take me months just to get close!”

“Oh, not at all,” Celestia said. She jabbed a hoof toward the cityscape. “She lives just downtown, right across the street from the Rusty Wheel Pub. Small cottage, thatched roof. You can’t miss it.”

“Oh.” Twilight pursed her lips and jumped up onto the balcony’s railing. “Wish me luck,” she said, before jumping into the air and speeding off, headed to Faust and—hopefully—her new manestyle. She left a trail of egg yolk in her wake.

The Author of All Beings lived in a simple villa, sandwiched between an antiques shop and a convenience store. Fanciful white silk drapes hung over the windows, and multitudes of bright daisies filled the front yard. In front of the door sat a small welcome mat that read, “Home Sweet Home.” All in all, Twilight could see why nopony made a fuss about it; honestly, it reminded her of her grandmother’s house.

At least, it did, until the door opened and a massive disembodied eyeball floated out.

“Who goes there?” it boomed. Its voice sounded like a mountain ripping itself from the Earth.

Twilight took a step back, hackles stiffening. She took a few glances around to see if anypony was watching, but the street was completely empty. “Uh,” she began, forcing her mind into motion. “Are… are you Faust?”

“Faust does not talk to ponies anymore,” the eyeball answered. “Pixies, yes. Dolphins, occasionally. But never ponies. Go away.” It floated back inside and slammed the door—

Twilight held back a yelp as she jammed her hoof into the doorway, holding the door open. “Please,” she said, sticking her head in. “I’m Twilight! Twilight Sparkle!”

The eyeball didn’t react. “And?”

Twilight flared her wings. “Princess Twilight Sparkle?”

The eyeball spent a moment just staring—not that it could do much else—before opening the door and letting Twilight come inside.

The floorboards creaked under Twilight’s hooves as she walked into the foyer, which, much like the exterior, looked like it could belong to anypony’s grandmother. Dust coated most every surface. Pictures of ponies wearing clothes from ages long past adorned the walls. A musty odor hung in the air; it mixed with the scent of egg wafting from her mane and became noxious. The foyer itself stretched off into the distance, and Twilight couldn’t make out just how long it actually was.

Folding her wings, Twilight glanced around for the eyeball, but it had disappeared, leaving her alone in the quiet hallway. On each side of the hall were countless open doorways, leading to wide, intricately designed rooms. Twilight frowned and walked ahead. Just where was…?

“Twilight!”

Twilight’s ears shot up, and she spun around to face the new voice.

In one of the doorways stood an alicorn. Ruffled crimson hair fell down to her shoulders, and her coat was a clean off-white. An inkwell and quill were emblazoned on both flanks. Her eyes were wide but warm, and a grin was stretched across her face.

Twilight had to resist the urge to teleport away as the alicorn—whom Twilight could only assume was Faust—ran up to her. Faust was nearly a head taller than Celestia, and her horn scraped against the ceiling when she walked. Twilight could feel the arcane magic radiating from her bones, sparking along her coat. Just looking into her eyes was like licking a stormcloud.

The Author of All Beings was truly the most powerful creature Twilight had ever faced.

“Hey there, Twilight!” Faust cried, grabbing Twilight’s hoof in her own. “It’s been ages! How’s that plan for world domination coming along? Did the bank ever grant you that loan for buying discount magic amulets?”

Twilight gaped. “What?”

Faust’s smile disappeared for a moment, replaced by a narrow-eyed look of concentration. “Oh!” she piped, raising her wings. “You’re Twilight Sparkle, right! Sorry, sorry. I got you confused with Twilight Velvet. Pony names, right? What're you gonna do?”

Twilight mouthed her mother’s name a few times, her ears drooping more with every syllable.

“But enough reminiscing—I think I know why you’re here!” Faust turned and walked away. “Come with me.” Twilight did as she was told, following Faust down the hall for a few yards, before turning and heading to the doorway that Faust had come from.

The lights in the next room were blinding, and Twilight had to shade her eyes with a wing just to not go blind. The room was as wide and tall as Canterlot Castle’s Great Hall and stretched on to infinity—or, at least, out of sight. And yet, that wasn’t even close to being the most striking feature of the room.

That honor went to the hundreds of thousands of pictures that lined the walls. Portraits of ponies, big and small, young and old, covered every inch of space on the walls. Twilight spent a moment marveling before her body went rigid—there was a picture of her on the wall! And just a few rows away was Rarity! Cheerilee hung about twenty yards away. And next to her was… Starswirl the Bearded? A portrait of everypony ever to live, from the beginning of time to that very moment, had a place on this wall. Standing there, Twilight felt so insignificant, so small. She was just a speck in the ocean of time, thrown against the seafloor, unable to do anything—

Faust leaned down to press her cheek against Twilight’s. “You want a magical princess mane, don’t you, Twilight?”

“Exactly!” Twilight yipped, all crushing existential despair forgotten. “How did you know?”

Faust giggled and walked forward. “Oh, that’s what all alicorns want,” she said. “Celestia, Luna, Cadance, Skyla… all of them.”

“Skyla?” Twilight repeated.

“Yes, Skyla!” Faust pointed up. “Look.”

Just above Twilight’s head sat a portrait of a magenta alicorn with a purple-yellow mane. A deep frown was etched onto her face.

“Princess Skyla,” Faust said, nodding. “Became an alicorn 768 years ago next week. Cute filly. Bit of a temper, though. Explains why nopony really cared for her.”

“I’ve never heard of her,” Twilight said, frowning. “None of my textbooks ever mentioned anything about a Skyla.”

Faust shrugged. “Eh, it’s not too surprising. She was only Princess for three days before she was overthrown and beheaded.”

Twilight choked on air. “Beheaded?!”

“Yep! It was the Equestrian Dark Ages—beheading was all the rage back then.” Faust paused for a moment before her lips screwed up into a devilish smirk. She elbowed Twilight in the side. “I guess you could say she didn’t last long as… Head of State!”

Twilight stared—only for her eyes to narrow. “Skyla isn’t even real, is she?”

“Nope. Just wanted to make that joke.” Faust lit her horn, and the portrait of Skyla disappeared. Faust giggled. “You should have seen the look on your face!”

With a snort, Twilight brushed off the joke. If Faust’s sense of humor had always been like this, Twilight could see why she couldn’t quite click with anypony. “Can we get back to talking about my mane?” she asked.

“Of course,” Faust said. “Just take a seat.”

“A seat? What seat—“ Twilight jumped as her hoof bumped into something hard. A wide wooden desk had appeared next to her, along with two chairs: one behind the desk, and the other just in front. Twilight took a quick glance back at Faust before taking her place on the outside.

Faust sat down behind the desk and adjusted her nameplate—“Author.” On the desk sat pictures of Celestia, Luna, and Cadance as fillies. With a flash of her horn, Faust summoned a new picture frame and placed it down next to the others; a photo of Twilight on the day she received her cutie mark sat inside.

“So, let’s get down to business.” Faust hummed a tune as she opened up a desk drawer and hefted out a massive gold-plated book, the cover of which read, Universal Laws and Regulations. It was as big as a manticore’s head, and made a bone-shattering thump when it hit the desk. Faust touched her tongue to her hooftip and started flipping through with her magic. “Let’s see here. Carrots, Denim, Entropy… ah, Ethereal Winds! Here we are!”

Faust pulled out a pair of tiny reading glasses and cleared her throat. “’Upon ascension, alicorns may choose to receive the gift of ethereal wind, which results in the enchantment of their manes and tails to shimmer with the arcane magic trapped within their bones. Such enchantment requires both the willingness of the alicorn, as well as the express permission of the Author. Alicorns who fail to follow all Universal Laws and/or Regulations will have their enchantments revoked, and will be cursed to have boring mortal-pony manes for the rest of their lives.’” She smiled. “Or something like that.”

There were those rules that Celestia had mentioned. In a normal situation, Twilight would have smoothed down her mane out of nervousness—of course, that required actually having a mane to smooth. So, she just sat up a bit straighter.

“I see,” Twilight said, forcing a smile of her own. “Well, I don’t think that I’ve broken any laws. At least, not as far as I know.”

“That’s very true,” Faust said with a nod. “Your Cosmic Criminal Record is nigh flawless. Your aura is shining!”

The tension in Twilight’s legs faded. She leaned forward in her seat. “So you can give me my new mane?”

“I can!” Faust said, taking off her reading glasses. “But first, I’d like to just ask a few questions. Nothing big. Just protocol.”

“Of course,” Twilight said. She cracked her neck and assumed her patented ‘test-taking position.’ “Whenever you’re ready.”

Faust summoned a sheet of paper and a quill. “Okay, first question: what is your relationship status? Married, In a Relationship, or Looking for Somepony?”

Twilight blinked. “Can I, uh, pick None of the Above?”

“Hey, hey!” Faust jabbed her quill at Twilight. “Don’t sass me. I’m not the one who makes the rules here—well, technically I am, but still. Questions are questions, and rules are rules.”

“Okay, fine.” Twilight scratched her head. “Looking for Somepony, I guess.”

Faust wolf-whistled, sending a hurricane of pink ripping through Twilight’s cheeks. Before the younger alicorn could speak up, Faust said, “Next question: what are you doing for dinner tonight?”

“I don’t like where this is going,” Twilight said, crossing her forelegs.

“Aw, it was just a joke! Lighten up!” Faust sighed and shook her head. “I swear, ponies these millennia are so sensitive. Fine, fine, real next question: what is your title?”

“Princess of Friendship,” Twilight stated, head high.

Faust stopped writing. She placed her quill down and shot Twilight a pointed look. “Friendship?”

“Yes…?”

“What is friendship?”

Magic was Twilight’s first instinct, but she had a feeling that an explanation like that wasn’t what Faust was looking for. “Uh, friendship is when two ponies establish a relationship, usually non-romantic, that’s based off of common interests and—“

“No, that’s not what I mean. I invented existence, Twilight. I think I should know what the definition is.” Faust pressed her hooves together and pursed her lips. “I mean, how can you base your being an alicorn off of something as abstract as friendship? You mean to tell me that Celestia gifted you with such unimaginable power simply because you were good at making friends? For all intents and purposes, friendship doesn’t even exist!”

“Doesn’t exist?!” Twilight had to resist the urge to jump from her chair. “What is that supposed to mean? Of course it exists!”

“Can I see it, or touch it, or taste it? It’s the same thing with ‘love,’ too.” Faust tapped Cadance’s picture. “This one came in about twenty years ago, claiming she was the Princess of Love. What is love? Can it hurt me? What is it?”

“What’s your point?” Twilight asked. “What does this have to do with anything?”

“If I were to enchant your mane, it’d be breaking protocol,” Faust said. “Look at Celestia and Luna—they’re the Princesses of the Sun and the Moon. They’re Princesses of actual things, not just concepts.” Faust closed the book. “Until you can prove you’re the Princess of something that’s real, of something that I can see and feel, I can’t give you your new mane. I’m sorry.”

Twilight growled and opened her mouth to argue—but a steady-eyed look from Faust sent the words scurrying back down her throat. Twilight jumped up from her chair, letting it clatter to the floor. She stomped out.

“She said friendship doesn’t exist?!” Spike said, running a brush through Twilight’s mangled hair. “What the hay is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know! I swear, between that and all the weird jokes… I’m pretty sure this Author of All Beings is a nutcase.” Twilight sighed and buried her head into the pillow. “This is awful. How am I supposed to use my egg mixer now? I can’t return it! Not returning gifts your friends get you is Friendship Lesson #1!” She paused. “Also, I don’t have the receipt.”

“Can’t you just get a haircut?” Spike asked as he wrestled with a particularly tight knot. “I’m sure Rarity would do it for free.”

Twilight shook her head. “Not an option, Spike. After how she treated me, I’m not letting Faust win. I’m gonna follow her stupid rules, and I’m going to get my magic hair.”

“How are you gonna do that?” Spike jumped down from the bed and grabbed a mirror off of Twilight’s dresser. He threw it over to Twilight, who caught it in her magic and examined her sunburned scalp. “She said that you needed, like, a whole planet to be a real princess! Where are you gonna get a planet?”

“I’m not sure,” Twilight muttered, moving the mirror around her head. “But there has to be some way…”

Twilight trailed off as she brought the mirror back around to her front and locked eyes with herself.

She grinned. “I think I have an idea.”

Faust darted a glance up at her. “You’re the Princess of the Earth?”

Twilight adjusted her hat, sash, and jacket—all of which read ‘EARTH’ in big, bold letters—and nodded. “That’s right! I represent the Earth, just like Celestia represents the Sun. I’m one of only two ponies to ever go there, and I have sole ownership of the Crystal Mirror that leads there.”

“Mhm.” Faust jotted down a few notes. “I must admit, it’s been awhile since I’ve visited Earth. There are humans now, you said? How are they getting along with the dinosaurs?”

Twilight paused in polishing her topographically-accurate globe. “Uh, I think the dinosaurs went extinct.”

“Really? Huh. Didn’t see that one coming.” Faust slid her papers to the side and crossed her forelegs on the desk. “I must admit, this is all sounding very good. You may receive your enchantment yet, Twilight!”

“I try my best,” Twilight said, bowing her head. “Being Princess of the Earth isn’t easy!”

“I bet.” Faust levitated Twilight’s globe over to herself and spun it. “If I might ask, where do you live? Maybe I’ll come visit you sometime. We can go out for pizza, your treat.”

“Oh, uhm, well…” Twilight rubbed the back of her neck. “I don’t exactly live there. I just visit sometimes when my friends contact me with a magic diary.”

“You just… visit?” Faust frowned and halted the globe’s spin. “You’re their Princess, and you just visit them? How many times have you even been there?”

Twilight gulped. “Twice…?”

“Twice,” Faust repeated.

“Well, three times, if you count that night Pinkie made her ‘special cupcakes.’”

“That’s just—you can’t—“ Faust dragged a hoof down her face. “You can’t just be the Princess of a world you’ve never lived on! That’s a complete breach of protocol.”

“But what about Celestia?” Twilight blurted out. “I very much doubt she’s ever lived on the Sun.”

“For your information, she has. It’s where she had her Sweet Sixteen-hundredth.” Faust tossed the globe back to Twilight, who just barely caught it. “And even if she hadn’t, the Sun and the Earth are not the same thing. The Earth is populated! Nearly seven billion people live there.” Faust shot a sharpened glare at Twilight. “Do you really expect me to let you have control over an entire species, just like that?”

Twilight sighed. “No.”

“Good,” Faust said, leaning back in her chair. “Because I’m not.”

A silent moment passed.

Faust reached for a blank sheet of paper. “Now, you said that you were one of two ponies to ever visit Earth?”

“I swear, Faust is just screwing with me now,” Twilight said as she tossed the newspaper into the fireplace in her bedroom. “Why does Sunset Shimmer get to become Princess of the Earth, and I don’t? She’s barely even a pony!”

“Is that racist?” Spike asked. He chucked Twilight’s globe into the fire, where it cracked and splintered in the flame. “That sounds kinda racist.”

“It’s absolutely ridiculous is what it is.” Twilight paced in front of the fire, wings spread wide. “I like being the Princess of Friendship. I shouldn’t have to give up my entire career just because some stupid rulebook says I should!”

“Whoa. Did you just call a book ‘stupid’?” Spike took a step back. “I think you’re losing it, Twi.”

Twilight tried to glare at him, but she barely lasted a second before groaning and collapsing onto her rump. “Ugh, you’re right. Faust is driving me absolutely insane! But what am I supposed to do? I’m not going to return Pinkie’s gift just because Faust is a jerk.”

Tossing a few ribbons onto the fire, Spike shot her a sideways glance. “I’m pretty sure Close Shave’s shop is open ‘til sundown…”

“No haircuts,” Twilight said, stomping her hoof. She sighed and looked up at her half-bald scalp. “Besides, I doubt he could do much with this anyway…”

“Well, what did Faust say to you?” Spike asked. “She didn’t believe that friendship was real because she couldn’t touch it or see it, right? All you have to do is find something that’s real and represents friendship!”

“Real and represents friendship, huh?” Twilight tapped her chin. “Hm…”

“It’s a friendship bracelet!” Twilight explained, floating the bracelet over to where Faust sat. “My friend Pinkie Pie made it for me years ago, just a few days after I first moved to Ponyville. I’ve kept it on my nightstand ever since!”

Faust turned the bracelet over in her magic, studying through each individual bead as if it were some sort of ancient artifact. The bracelet was strung up with thick black string, and a set of square white beads, each one separated by a small candy heart, read ‘PINKIE.’ Despite its age, the bracelet still smelled lightly of lemon cake—the same smell that always seemed to waft from Pinkie Pie’s mane, no matter where she was or what she was doing.

As Twilight watched Faust examine it, she couldn’t help but feel the slightest sense of pride that she had managed to keep it safe for so long. The bracelet had always been one of Twilight’s most prized possessions. She couldn’t think of anything that better represented friendship.

“This is certainly very interesting,” Faust said. She laid the bracelet down on her desk. “A physical representation of abstraction. You Equestrians just love complicating your own lives, don’t you?”

“I’d like to put this forward as my ‘real’ object,” Twilight said. “And, as the Princess of Friendship, I’d like to ask once again for a magical mane.”

“Of course!” Faust smiled. “And, y’know what? For once, I’m glad to give it to you!”

“You are?” Twilight asked, eyes going wide. “For real this time? No games, no tricks, no protocol?”

“Absolutely. You’ve got your title and your real object—you’re good to go!” Faust stood up and grabbed the bracelet in her magic. “C’mon. All you have to do is take a quick trip through the Black Hole of Eternal Pain, and you'll be on your way."

Twilight cringed a bit, but shook it off; knowing Faust, it was probably just another joke. Twilight jumped out of her chair and used a wing to fluff up what little hair she had left. These would probably be the last minutes in her possibly-immortal life to enjoy having a normal mane, and she was going to live them to the fullest—

“Wait.”

“Hm?” Twilight looked up, only to find Faust standing a few yards away, staring at the bracelet with a hard glare. “Is something wrong?”

Faust held up the bracelet. “This was only tied with a single knot.”

Twilight took a step back. “And?”

“Protocol states that any friendship bracelets intended to be used as physical representations of friendship have to be double knotted.” Faust floated her rulebook over and flipped it open. “It says so right here.”

“What?!” Twilight yipped, flaring her wings. “Five minutes ago you didn’t even know what a friendship bracelet was! How can there be rules about it?”

“Hey, hey! Don’t get mad at me!” Faust said, turning up her nose. “I don’t make the rules. Well, I mean, I do, kinda. But still, those are the rules. Do you know what would happen if you broke them? The universe could implode! The entire pony race could cease to exist! I could lose my glorious, luxuriously silky mane!”

Twilight swallowed the curses flying up her throat. Instead, she grabbed the bracelet out of Faust’s magic and floated it over to herself. It only took a few seconds for her to undo the knot and retie it again, this time with a tight double knot. She thrust it into the air. “There! Now will you take it?!”

“No, sorry.” Faust closed her book. “It’s already been rendered an invalid item. You’re gonna have to find something else to represent friendship. I don’t mean to be rude about this, Twilight, but I just don’t give out sparkly princess manes for things that might as well not exist.” She turned and walked away.

“Might as well not exist?” Twilight repeated under her breath. She growled and stamped a hoof, sending a sharp clop shooting through the wide room. “Ugh! I am sick of you disrespecting me, and disrespecting friendship!”

Faust stopped and looked over her shoulder. “What? I’m not disrespecting you! I’m just—“

“’Following the rules,’ yeah, I get it. But your rules are terrible!” Twilight took a deep breath and folded her wings. With a shaking voice, she said, “I’ve devoted the past five years of my life to studying, learning, and spreading friendship throughout Equestria. I gave up everything I knew just so I could move to Ponyville and live with all of my friends. I’ve risked my life, had my home destroyed, all for friendship!”

Twilight took a long step toward Faust. “Friendship is my life. How can you possibly say that it doesn’t exist?

“You said that you can’t see friendship, or feel it. That’s a complete lie.” Twilight smiled and touched a hoof to her chest. “I see friendship every day, in the smiles and laughter of the ones I love. And I feel it, too—I’ve never been happier, or more excited than when I’m around my friends. There’s no greater feeling than that warmth you get in your chest when you realize that there’s someone who cares about you, who just wants to be around you and make you happy. That’s friendship.

“I became the Princess of Friendship because I understood that friendship is greater than a bracelet you wear, or even a planet you move.” Twilight smiled. “Friendship is honesty, loyalty, laughter, generosity, kindness—friendship is magic.”

There was silence for a moment as her words faded into the distance.

Then, a sniffle. Faust pulled a few tissues out of the box she had summoned about halfway through Twilight’s speech and dabbed at her eyes. “That… that was beautiful!”

Twilight tilted her head. “Really?”

“No, of course not.” Faust threw the tissue box over her shoulder. “That was the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Clouds of pink swirled through Twilight’s face. She looked away. “Oh.”

“However.”

Twilight’s ears perked up. “Yeah?”

“However, while you may be a walking bag of cheese puffs, you’re also devoted.” Faust smiled and touched a wing to Twilight’s shoulder. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard anypony defend their life choices as proudly as you just did. Maybe not even since I left the mortal world behind. It was pretty refreshing.

“That’s why I’ve decided to grant you your wish. I’ll enchant your mane.”

Twilight grinned. “Seriously? But what about the Universal Laws and Regulations?”

“Eh, the law can go screw. What’s the worst that could happen? The sun explodes, or something like that? Whatever happens, you're worth it.” Faust winked at Twilight. “And all you have to do is agree to go on a date with me.”

An uncomfortable heat flashed over Twilight’s face. “Uh…”

“Aw, I’m just teasing you. Probably.” Faust picked Twilight up in her magic and headed for the door. “Now, let’s go get you your sparkly magic princess mane!”

A few hours later, Twilight stood in the middle of her kitchen, her horn beaming bright. In front of her, her magic-powered mixer whirred away, ripping through a few eggs. Pinkie had given her a new recipe a few days earlier, and she was excited to finally try it. It certainly didn’t hurt that for the first time since receiving the mixer, she was able to run it without her long hair getting caught in the whisk.

Twilight could barely stop herself from singing as she caught a glance of her new hairstyle in the reflection of the bowl. Her new mane was made of pure magic, and flowed behind her like water, forever caught in an ethereal wind. It flew in long streaks of pink and purple, twinkling with tiny glimmers of cosmic energy.

Twilight held her head high. She finally felt like a true Princess. No longer would she be some awkward, clumsy, half-bald alicorn who spent her nights whispering sweet nothings to math textbooks. Now she was a powerful, regal, magic-maned alicorn who spent her nights whispering sweet nothings to science textbooks. And the trip through the Black Hole of Eternal Pain hadn't even been that bad!

This was truly the greatest day of her life.

…But what was that tugging?

Twilight felt something tugging on the back of her head. She tried to ignore it, but it grew stronger. It only took a few seconds for the tugging to become a painful yanking. Twilight had just let out her first growl when she found herself being lifted from the ground and spun around the room. Shrieking madly, Twilight looked up.

Her new, flowing mane had gotten caught on the ceiling fan.

Twilight went slack, letting the fan take her where it wanted to go. And as she hung there, the world spinning around her, Twilight could only think one thing.

I probably should have just gotten a haircut.

Author's Notes:

Thanks to Titanium Dragon for the blank newspaper picture, and thanks to Quill Scratch (a.k.a. FiM's resident genius) for giving me the inspiration to make that joke in the first place.

All comments, positive and negative, are appreciated.