The First Stitch [to Monochromatic, from Carabas]

Where to begin? Always a vexing question for the storytellers. But let it never be said Rarity neglected even the most vexatious tasks, and so I shan’t.

That very morning, perhaps, in the week running up to Hearthswarming Eve. When the sun rose high and bright over a brisk winter’s day in Ponyville. When the streets and rooftops were strung with lights and decorations, and mantled with snow the weather team had let fall overnight. When dearest Twilight and Starlight Glimmer were preoccupied trying to stop space-time from eating itself. And when I had put the finishing touches to that year’s winter range in Carousel Boutique.

Forgive a moment’s digression regarding that range. It was, if I do say so myself, one of my finer collections yet. A Nouveau spirit had quite overtaken me for my first sketches, had clarified itself during testing and fitting sessions with Fluttershy’s help, and it had manifested itself marvellously in the final articles. Multiple sets of dresses and gowns and saddles, made from warm wool and velvet, dyed with naturally-hued greens and cream-tones and whites, adorned with floral patterns on the sleeves and hems, and sewn into gently-curving lines. Accompanying them were all the accoutrements winter demanded — hats, scarves, leg-warmers, boots, under-saddles, and more, all wrought in the same style and accented with bolder hues here and there.

Style and utility working hoof-in-hoof. I was quite satisfied. Although it always serves to adjust one’s expectations downwards and remain modest, I anticipated the appreciative souls running Chic and Apparel Weekly would be more than satisfied as well. I anticipated acclaim.

Not all of it was for Carousel Boutique, of course, Sassy Saddles and Plaid would receive some of the articles for display and sale in Canterlot and Manehatten respectively, and delivery would have to be conducted. Delivery, as it happens, makes for a wonderful excuse to visit either city and catch up with them both. Therefore, after aforementioned finishing touches, I spent a happy while drinking cocoa and packing away those articles destined for more urban locales, to be delivered by my own self in a whistle-stop tour that very afternoon.

As I sipped cocoa and packed, there came from outside an earth-shaking and somewhat plaintive roar. On its heels came poor Twilight’s voice, sounding very strained. “Come on, stay still. Good theropod.”

That was the other main component of the morning, you understand. Twilight and Starlight had had the idea for what they dubbed a Scryerscope, some intricate chronomantic design inspired by a potion of Zecora’s and some other writings by Starswirl, which would let them peer freely into the past. I’d excused myself from involvement there — my own skill for arcane theory and practice ends woefully short of time-based magic, alas — but was most keen to see what came of it.

Teething problems seemed to have emerged. Every so often as I worked in the boutique, there would come from outside a prolonged and bassy vwoorp sound (which I am assured is the sound of consternated space-time) and that would often then be followed by a confused bellow from some large and primeval entity. I’d gone outside earlier to see if assistance was needed, of course — the winter range could wait — and had been assured by a tousled and frantically-smiling Starlight Glimmer that everything would be fine, fine, she said, and that if I could avoid stepping into any spontaneous chronospasms, that would be more than enough help. Then one of said chronospasms had vwoorped into existence in the sky behind her, something large and green and covered in spikes had tumbled out from its aperture, and Starlight had turned to deal with that. With mixed feelings, I had turned back as well. I didn’t wish to merely get in the way, after all, and I was sure Twilight was absolutely capable of resolving the matter. But on the off-off-off-chance events grew out of hoof, one should always remain ready to intervene.

Twilight seemed to have justified all faith in her, though, and the kerfuffle seemed to be dying down. I finished packing, drained my cocoa, and donned a fetching scarlet set of boots, saddle, scarf, and ushanka to made the journey in cosy style. A train would depart Ponyville Station in the right direction in just over ten minutes, assuming the clock wasn’t lying, and so I gathered up the dozen or so large parcels and bags about me and dared the great outdoors.

Outside, upon leaving my front door, brisk air hit me. The divine sight of Ponyville under winter whiteness and crowned by a pale blue sky would have taken my breath away, as it tends to. At its forefront, though, somewhat more arresting sights compelled my attention.

At one side of the street before the boutique, there sat Starlight with what looked like a great and intricate spherical dial wrought from glowing spectral lines suspended in the air above her horn. She frantically twiddled with it, obscure arcane notation glowing and shifting in the air above her as she worked. Twilight hovered front and centre in mid-air, raising a magical shield to keep several curious onlookers out of harm’s way and calling out advice to Starlight. At the other side, Opalescence, who had ventured forth from her cushion by the stove for the first time that day, had cornered approximately ten tons of bewildered saurian and was trying to hunt it.

“Twilight?” I called out. “Are things alright, darling? Can I be of any use?”

“Rarity!” she replied, flapping to turn in my direction and smiling wearily. “Thank you, but everything’s okay … ish. Starswirl’s Sequencer just didn’t want to play nicely with Grimoire’s Constraining Dweomerlayk, that’s all. It’s, er … sequencing too hard. But we’ve managed to send back most of the incursions, and we can fix it! We just need a few more minutes. Starlight? How’s it —?”

“Almost,” Starlight said, sweat beading on her brow. “Just got to map on Milky Way’s Abstractional Syphon to clear off some of the excess, and then we’ll able to arrest the sequence manually. Just give me a moment.”

There was a great crash at one side, and I turned to see that the saurian had flopped to the ground in surrender to Opalescence, belly presented and tiny arms waggling helplessly, inviting mercy. Opalescence, who regrettably tends to regard mercy as a four-letter word, simply escalated her efforts to try and dismember the poor thing.

“Opal!” I said sternly, trotting her way, my corona of bags rustling. “Don’t torment the poor creature, it’s already—”

“Uh-oh,” said Starlight in that moment. “Er, excess. Excess! Lots! Look out!”

“What?” Twilight and I said in unison, turning just in time to see the sphere over Starlight fizzing with agitation, and then spitting loose several magical bolts. Most of them screamed up into the empty sky, flashing out of existence with bangs and vwoorp sounds. Most save one.

A flash erupted up above, and as I instinctively turned my head up, there was a great sound like VWOO—

That moment, everything seemed to slow, the world moving like treacle all around me.

The solid lines of Ponyville melted away like frost in a furnace.

Twilight’s face collapsed in horror and shock as she lunged towards me, horn blazing.

And then the whole world turned white.

Freefall through whirling blankness. Things screamed in through one ear, fizzled what they found, and flew out the other side as voices in reverse, and I would have screamed had everything not been quite so distant and muffled, including myself. A thunderous ticking rang out all around, and sped up and up and up as I fell. Tick. Ticktick. Tickticktickticktick—

***

—OORP.

The whole world turned dark and cold. Freefall ceased, and I plummeted face-first into a thick pile of snow. Bags crashed down all around me, next to where I lay fallen.

Composure was slow and effortful in the regaining, and I spent more time than was ideal spluttering snow away from my muzzle and struggling back to my hooves. All was whirling, frigid darkness, and I lifted my head and blinked around at my surroundings to restore some sense. “Twilight?” I coughed. “Twilight, are you there? It’s alright, I—”

But no sooner had I opened my mouth, there came a ghastly howling as wind slashed down at me, bringing down what felt like an extra inch or so of snow for the layer I already stood in. Huddling under my hat, I stared out at what remained wild blackness, and coaxed light to my horn. Soft blue light spilled around me, lighting up snow, fallen bags, silver flurries of snow pelting the ground. And further out...

I stared wildly around me, a ghastly suspicion becoming a certainty as I looked vainly for any sign of Ponyville. “Twilight?” I ventured once more, equally vainly.

No Ponyville. No streets, no ponies, no noon sun. Instead, the walls of a narrow and forested gully rose up around me, cragged with snow-smothered rocks and roots and small trees, all violently shaking as snow-edged winds lashed into them. Shadows danced past what small light I’d conjured, and up past it all, to where the silhouettes of trembling trees lined the gully’s lip, the dark sky roiled with clouds.

I peered up desperately, shielding my eyes with a hoof, squinting for any other light, any sign of where I might be. Nothing. Nothing but pitch-black skies, slashing down with sheets of snow. Amidst that blackness, though it may have been my imagination, it wasn’t impossible to make out vast and sinuous shapes, capering and twisting and, all but lost against the shrill howl of the wind, something faintly laughing…

Consider my position. Hurled from hearth and home, lost elsewhere (and perhaps elsewhen, considering the magics that had been in play) in an unknown wilderness, alone, at the mercy of unknown and unpleasant forces high above, and clad in garments that could only furnish so much insulation in the face of a winter worthy of the Founders.

You can understand that I was a little out of sorts. I spun around on my hooves and looked this way and that, hunting for any friendly sight. “Anypony?” No small amount of emotion coloured my voice at this unexpected turn in what had hitherto been a pleasant day. “Hello?”

“Ēalā?”

A mare’s rough voice from above, ringing out like a miracle in that moment. I spun and looked up, just as lilac light spilled across the ground from her direction as well, mixing with my blue. On the edge of the gully, high above my position, there stood a unicorn, her small shape vague and swaddled up behind a large cloak. Lilac light flared up from her horn, poking up past her cowl, illuminating what looked like a haggard face and bright, sharp eyes.

“Oh, thank heavens! Hello!” I began. Her head seemed to tilt and her gaze narrowed as I called up. “There’s … ah, been some manner of magical accident! Could you tell me where I am? Could you help me? I’d be ever-so—”

Her horn flashed and, amidst magical light and flurrying snow, she abruptly teleported right in front of me. I reflexively shyed back.

The instant after, I got a good look at her. And I reflexively shyed back again.

She wasn’t the most intimidating entity I’ve ever seen at close quarters, but she merits mention in the category. Diamond-hard eyes hammered into me out of what was far too gaunt a face to be healthy. Her lean features were blistered with cold, the spiral of her horn was scorched and faintly damaged by prolonged magical strain, I could tell. Her cloak and cowl were ragged, reeking, filthy things, patched and repaired many times over with as many different materials. Under her cloak, I could make out a stick-thin body corded about the legs with thin, ropey muscle and covered with matted hide.

Lilac magic flared right at me, down the length of a horn which brought to mind unfavourable comparisons with loaded crossbows, and I broke into chatter, desperate to get things moving into a somewhat more friendly mode. “Good … good day to you! My name is Rarity — perhaps, ah, the name rings a bell? Element Bearer, designer extraordinaire, that sort of thing? It is very, very nice to make your acquaintance, and may I compliment you on your lovely cloak, and may I enquire after your own na—?”

As I babbled, she looked me up and down, and when her eyes snapped back up to mine, her gaze was cold and suspicious. “Hwā ēower nama īs?”

It wasn’t spellfire, which was a reason to be thankful. But it wasn’t entirely comprehensible either. I stood, and stared, and shivered, and did other similarly useful things while the strange mare regarded me. “I … apologies, could you repeat that? Is that, ah, a Ponesylvanian accent? It’s quite —”

“Spraec māra slāwlice,” she snapped, her voice firm, her bright eyes boring into me. “Hwā ēower nama īs?”

(I detail her speech after the fact, you understand, by racking my recall of what at the time were so many terrifying syllables, consulting a relevant dictionary, and extrapolating where necessary. Let none say I don’t make the effort.)

Headway seemed stymied. I looked at her helplessly. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t understand you.”

“Spraec thu Æquisc?” she said, the hardness of her gaze softening slightly. She sounded quite puzzled. I shared the feeling.

“I … ah … yes? No? Possibly?” The words were something very nearly close to familiar, and yet so far as well. I paused, took a breath, and tried to steady myself. Panic and confusion were no excuses for losing one’s dignity if one could help it.

The glow around the mare’s horn dimmed slightly as she closed her eyes and murmured something under her breath. A thread of little glowing glyphs and lilac fragments of arcane notation unspooled from the tip of her horn, coiling out into a ring that hung in the air before us and rotated slowly. I studied them warily, trying to discern their meaning, but to little avail. Again, I grudgingly acknowledge arcane theory not being my strongest field. But I knew enough to recognise it as an intricate piece of work that only trained magical academics would entirely apprehend, let alone cast.

“Sprece tō mec,” the mare said, not ungently. The words were still strange to me, but something of the meaning came across, and I cleared my throat as she gestured with a forehoof.

“Ahem. My name is Rarity, and while I am pleased to make your acquaintance, I’m afraid I’m in a rather awkward —” I paused. The little glyphs glowed and pulsed as I spoke, and the strange mare nodded and smiled at me. A rather sad, tired-looking smile, but a smile for all that. “Gracious, is this a translation spell? And not a rote trick, one from scratch? That’s quite a complex piece of — ah, beg pardon, maybe I shouldn’t comment on it itself while it’s taking in my speech, lest I confuse it. Anyway, I’m in something of a predicament involving chronomancy. Could you help me get my bearings so that —?”

The glyphs glowed white-hot in the air, and with a satisfied grunt, the mare bore up the rotating ring with her magic and lifted it over to my own head. I tensed as the warm thrum of its magic made my mane hairs prickle, but before I could do anything, the ring flashed down across my head. I tasted lilac for a second, my ears and throat prickled, and then the sensations passed. The mare eyed me, and then, in a rough voice that didn’t quite match the movement of her mouth, said, “Am I understood?”

“Understood … oh, yes! Yes, we’re now on speaking terms, as it were.” I laughed briefly, joy blossoming at the prospect of simply talking to another pony again in this awful place. Curiosity filled me as well, as to who this curious and dishevelled mare might be, with enough magical skill to potentially talk shop with Twilight if the two ever met. I met her gaze and smiled quite unreservedly. “Thank you! May I know your name?”

“I am Clover, aide to Her Highness,” she said, a frown asserting itself on her features once more. “What is your name, stranger?”

“...Clover?” I repeated.

“No, stranger, that is mine,” she said with much patience. “What is yours?”

I didn’t answer immediately. Clover.

Maybe it didn’t mean anything. It was a common-enough name. The festive atmosphere back in Ponyville had undoubtedly slipped it into my head. But on the other hoof, she was a skilled and powerful unicorn. She served an as-yet-unspecified Highness. There was a terrible winter blowing all about us. And I’d recently been on the wrong end of some chronomancy.

“Who exactly is Her Highness?” I stammered at last, looking for confirmation.

“Princess Platinum of Unicornkind, as you should know.” Her eyes narrowed with suspicion, and an edge to her tone betrayed incredulous bewilderment. “You are a unicorn whose face I do not know, who does not speak our tongue, wears strange garb, and does not know the name of her princess. Who are you, stranger?”

That settled it.

I didn’t slump to my haunches in the snow right then, I hasten to add, but only just. “I think I’m very, very lost,” I said, in a small voice which wasn’t quite rising to proceedings as it should. In fairness, the mind behind it wasn’t either.

Clover the Clever closed her eyes and breathed out. “A fourth time, then. Stranger, what is your na—”

“Rarity,” I managed. I looked up at her, and I suspect I cut a most out-of-sorts figure, there in that snowy gully. “From Ponyville. You won’t have heard of it, it’s very, very far from here. I’ve been on the receiving end of a nasty magical accident, and I’m a long way from home. Please, I know you’re in unhappy straits yourself, but could you help me? I can try my best to explain things.”

For a long moment, Clover studied me in silence, her bright eyes picking me apart with the air of a dispassionate surgeon. For my part, I just tried to maintain proper composure in front of a legend in the flesh, and tried not to shiver as wind-driven snow howled through the night.

Then the same weary smile she’d worn earlier returned to Clover’s features.

“I have acquired a knack for helping,” she said. “Walk with me somewhere warmer, Rarity of Ponyville.”

***

And somewhere warmer we did indeed walk — and teleport as well, at least for the slope up the gully’s sides. Clover was good enough to bear me along with her, and I found that the land atop the gully was overrun by a forest of towering trees, their blizzard-tossed canopies growling overhead, while the wide spaces between them snarled up in a mess of stone ridges, great snaking roots, and mud frozen solid. An Everfree of times past, I thought, before emphasising the ‘times past’ part to myself. It was all the Everfree.

Clover loped on through the trees, her lilac light guiding us, and I hurried along at her back. I may or may not have stumbled over what felt like every protrusion the forest floor had to offer, with diminishing dignity each time. Clover was courteous enough not to comment, though when I got caught on an especially irksome root, the magic she used to disentangle me may have had a somewhat long-suffering air to it.

I thanked her on reflex alone, my thoughts elsewhere. My mind worried at my situation like Opalescence with a saurian.

First and foremost, with regards to my own life and limb and prospects of returning home, I had settled somewhat. I had no doubt that Twilight and Starlight and everypony else capable of pitching in would be trying to track me and rescue me at that very moment — or rather, that moment well in the future, which was to say, the present, and that I, presently in the past, would best help them by staying still and awaiting their efforts, as and when they came, which might be shortly in the future. My future, that is. But also theirs, which was the present.

The point is, I had faith in my friends. But a niggling feeling, unrelated to them at all, had set in.

A reminder, once more, that I really and truly am no expert in time-based magic. I’m aware that it exists, that it is something best not meddled lightly with, and that common counsel for its use in all the associated stories and legends warns against trying to assassinate one’s grandmother. Heavens knows why this has to be specifically pointed out to time-travellers. Perhaps their lot is an unusually stressful and confusing one, filled with indiscriminate assassination. Perhaps they tend towards strained familial relations. I shan’t judge. But there are definite guidelines against meddling in the past. The reasoning for these rules that I’ve heard varies — either one’s meddling produces the exact same outcome regardless, and one has put oneself through maddening stress to no avail, or one changes events, and potentially irreversibly so.

It occured that interaction between myself, a modern pony from modern Equestria, and Clover, to whom Equestria wasn’t even yet a word, might be exactly the sort of meddling one should refrain from. It may even be worse than grandmother assassination. I couldn’t say for certain.

Best, therefore, to stay as silent and unrevealing as possible. Let me simply be a strange and confused pony to them, found in the snow one night and vanished just as quickly. They’d put me from mind, and Equestrian history wouldn’t be irreversibly damaged as a result. Most likely. Perhaps.

I mulled it over as Clover and I pressed on over what in truth was a fairly short distance, made insufferably long by the conditions and by the persistent refusal of the roots underhoof to play nicely with my gait. Lights appeared past the treeline, flickering orange in the darkness and descending down past my sight.

As we drew closer, Clover led me onto the edge of the forest, There, I found myself at the top of another rise. And below me…

Fires. Fires and tents, straddling the width and length of a small valley plunging down within the forest to afford some measure of shelter from the blizzard. And around these fires and within these tents, dozens, hundreds, countless unicorns. They huddled under antiquated cloaks and cowls, called out to one another over the crackle of the countless campfires and bonfires, huddled on thin blankets spread over the earth, held foals close, shivered, bore trugs and wagons full of freshly-hewn timber and firewood. The fires roared as they were fed, each one flaring defiance up at the winter, weaving a wall of smoke between the unicorns on the ground and what waited above.

I stared mutely for a while, taking it in, taking in what it was. Tents and battered pavilions predominated, some of them sporting equally battered banners and crests, and the clothes nearly every unicorn sported were as ragged as Clover’s own. This was the Unicorn Kingdom of old, on the move through the windigo-sent winter of old. I tried to count the scores upon scores of fires, and I was sickened to realise that I could.

Unicornkind looked horribly finite at that moment.

“This way,” said Clover, her weary voice rousing me, and she motioned down the valley slope to where one pavilion nestled up against a rock wall, faded patterns running across its surface that might have once been gaudy. An opening at its top vented smoke, and the banner by the pavilion’s entrance sported a stylised white unicorn’s head on a diamond-dusted purple background. Recognition dawned on me, as old history lessons scrabbled up through memory to earn their keep. Old lessons, and props from a play starring yours truly.

With another disorientating flash, Clover whisked us both down to the pavilion’s entrance. Most of the other tents and unicorns were at a remove from it, and those that glanced our way only spared a second or so before returning to their tasks or rest. “Follow me in,” said Clover. “Remember your courtesies.”

Obedient and wordless, I followed her, and was greeted by the interior of the royal pavilion, which proved marginally warmer than the outdoors. A small fire and an overhanging cooking pot sat at the centre of its one circular room, the flames murmuring to themselves and sending a dwindling stream of smoke up through the ceiling’s vent, trapping enough to make me cough. A couple of heavy wooden boxes lay scattered around its perimeter, as well as a trug of kindling and logs. On it leaned a jeweled and hiltless blade, scuffed as if it had been used to cut wood. And by the fire, what I initially took to be a bundle of fabric, with one purple-ish rug lying over it and the gleam of metal at one end.

Then my initial thoughts were confounded, as the metal slowly rose and twisted in our direction, revealing itself to be a silver crown studded with jewels. That triggered memories as well, but less so than the face that revealed itself under the crown’s brim and blinked unsteadily in our direction.

“Good Clover,” whispered Princess Platinum vaguely, her gaze unfocused and her voice hoarse and awfully, painfully small. “You found the … disturbance?”

If I’d thought Clover somewhat gaunt, Platinum looked positively withered. Her frame resembled nothing so much as too-pale hide stretched over a bundle of sticks, and her eyes were bleary and red-veined. She struggled to rise from her prone position, steadying herself on her forehooves only with some effort. The crown seemed too large for her head, her famed cloak was as faded and worn as Clover’s own, and her motions were unsteady and lethargic.

Clover dropped into a bow before rushing to her. “I did, Your Highness, and all’s well. Nothing that seems a danger to us at the moment. Please, rest. You mustn’t exert yourself—”

“Is this … a supplicant?”

Clover and Platinum both turned on me, and I mastered myself sufficiently to drop into my own bow, mirroring Clover’s — the sort one may give to one of the Princesses. It seemed only reasonable to give it to any Princess at hoof.

“No, Your Highness. I believe her to be associated with the disturbance in some way. But she was alone in the snow, and I presumed to bring her back here. Both to safeguard, and to question.”

“Good.” Platinum nodded at nothing in particular. “Most good.” Her gaze turned upon me, furrowing slightly as if she was trying to think. Whatever effort she made, it petered out swiftly, and she bestowed a smile that was a shade too tired to be entirely regal and serene. “Do come closer. Your princess … is somewhat indisposed.”

I edged closer and leaned towards her, offered up another bow on the grounds it couldn’t hurt, and carefully didn’t mention that I’d once played her in a stage production. “I … ah, well-met, Your Highness.”

To one side, Clover had opened one of the wooden boxes and was rummaging. A stray tendril of her magic tossed a couple of logs onto the fire, building it up from its diminished state. As Clover busied herself, Platinum reached one hoof out towards my face and patted one of my cheeks. I remained still as it patted up towards my horn.

Apparently satisfied, Platinum let her hoof drop and re-bestowed the same almost-regal smile. “A subject. Good show.” Her gaze drifted towards my clothes, and lingered for a moment. “Such … marvellous needlework on these stitches. Very small. Commendably… even.”

It had indeed been commendable work on the part of my sewing machine, but it dawned on me as a reason to get yet more suspicious about the strange guest in their presence, and I prayed Clover wouldn’t pick up on it. “Thank you, Your Highness,” I said quickly. “I, ah, have a steady hoof and a lot of patience.”

Her gaze drifted for a moment before alighting up on me again, her eyes briefly betraying concern. “Tell us. You are … fed? Warm? Sheltered?”

I swallowed. I had breakfasted only a couple of hours ago and finished my cocoa not twenty minutes before, while square meals looked like only a distant memory for Platinum and every other unicorn here I’d seen. “Yes, Your Highness.”

She looked happy, smiling brightly before near-regality reasserted itself. “Excellent. Most excellent. If you lack, then let … Clover or ourselves know. We shall have nopony suffer ...” She coughed and broke off, and when she resumed, her voice was quieter than before, if such was even possible. “We … we have tried as well as we could … But rest assured, good pony, an … end is in sight. We are but one more day’s march from the mouth of Dream Valley.”

“You are? We are?” I rifled through dates in my head, and placed where I was. T’was the night before Hearthswarming. T’was the night before the three tribes met at Dream Valley, the night before the last flare-up of rivalries and the last windigo onslaught. The night before the tribes finally united, once and for all.

“Indeed. There will be … shelter there.” Platinum broke off into a series of rasping coughs, each one painful enough to even hear. But she resumed. “We know it has not been … a pleasant road. Over the mountains ... and down into this land, hounded by winter all the while. But one day more, and unicornkind shall have a home again.” Her hoof fumbled forward and found mine, and pressed it as hard as I guessed she could manage. “It will not all be for nothing. Your princess swears it.”

“Settle, Your Highness,” said Clover soothingly. She had returned from her delving into the box with a little glass jar in tow, and her magic absently tucked in Platinum’s cloak. At the same time, she uncorked the jar and squinted down into it. Eyeing it myself, I saw what what could be the barest remains of some honey hiding in its corners, barely enough to spread over a toast corner. Clover didn’t look dismayed by the quantity, but just regarded it with a weary sort of stoicism, and scraped out these last few dregs with her magic to add them to the cookpot. I glanced into the cookpot, gently steaming away to itself over the fire, and came away dismayed. A small quantity of thin brose bubbled at its bottom, oats drifting in the liquid like lonely ships in a sea. The honey had vanished without a trace, and likely to no effect.

“Good Clover,” said Platinum to no-pony in particular. She blinked, and then looked up at me. “We are glad to have borne our ponies this far. Clover … has been of great help in this. She in turn has borne us where necessary.”

“Often literally so, Your Highness,” said Clover, with some weariness but little rancour. She had picked up a nearby wooden spoon and was busy stirring the brose, and turned towards Platinum. “Your Highness, this should now be ready,” she said gently. “Please, take a bowlful. It’ll help soothe your throat.”

“We are most grateful, good Clover, but we are quite sated for the time being,” replied Platinum, her voice still small and hoarse. She waved in the approximate direction of the pavilion’s flap. “See if there is somepony else in greater need of it this night. Far be it from us to have a full pot while others go withou—”

“Your Highness, please, eat this night,” said Clover, sounding somewhat more frayed. “You’ve done all you can for your ponies, and none wish to see you starve. The rations have been shared as best they can—”

“Enough, Clover. Your … princess has spoken.”

A certain cast came to Clover’s expression. “I’ll fill a bowl for you, Princess,” she said, doing exactly that as she spoke. “You may eat it or knock it over the ground, as it please Your Highness.”

“Clover? Clover, we forbid it,” protested Platinum, her voice still feeble, as a bowl of gently-steaming brose was set down beside her along with a small wooden spoon. “Clover, this is insolence. This is rank insolence—” She stopped as she descended into another coughing fit, her thin frame shaking violently under her cloak. It passed after a few moments. “Clover?” she said plaintively, her voice on the absolute edge of hearing. “Clover, we are cold.”

“All’s well, Your Highness,” said Clover soothingly, opening one of the wooden boxes and drawing out a threadbare piece of cloth to drape over Platinum. “I’ll tend the fire. Please, eat. That’ll make it better.”

Platinum subsided, and Clover fed the fire while her princess begrudgingly picked up her spoon with her own pale magic. I watched on, still a mute observer, and that inaction had rankled. What was one meant to do in these sorts of situations? Especially when one knew how it would end. They would pull through.

And yet…

“Is there anything I may do?” I ventured, drawing Clover’s attention. Platinum seemed preoccupied with trying to navigate the spoon to her mouth. “Shall I fix anypony’s clothing, or get more firewood, or …?”

“What you may do, now that I’ve attended to my Princess, is talk to me, Rarity of Ponyville,” said Clover. The hard brightness had returned to her eyes. “Three possibilities have occured. Firstly, you are some trick, some skinchanger or unknown beast in this new region that has taken pony form in order to prey on us. And there are sufficient accounts and stories of such beings for me to give the notion credence.”

“I … what? What? I assure you, I’m not a—”

“However,” pressed Clover, “the translation spell I wrought also had some detection charms worked into it, and as far as they could reckon, your essence was that of an entirely ordinary unicorn. I assure you in turn that you would not be here had they told me otherwise.”

“Oh.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Relief, moderating mild panic. “That’s always nice to hear.”

“Secondly, you are some farflung kin of ours. One we didn’t know about, who already calls this land her home, and may not dwell in it alone.”

“That’s somewhat closer to the mark —”

“But the griffon tribes who guided us across the mountains assured us this was virgin territory, uninhabited wilderness that had been uninhabited wilderness in all living memories. If any dwell here now and have cultivated the soil and developed a civilisation, they must either be exceedingly discreet or exceedingly non-existent.”

“The — the latter. For now,” I said, and clamped my mouth shut on the last part much too late.

“Thirdly, you are one of our own, confused by the cold or some other sickness.” Clover’s eyes drifted down me, and I was aware of her regarding my intact clothes, my full and healthy frame. “But you have not shared our journey. And if you had been hoarding for yourself while others withered on the vine, you’d have been found out.”

“None of these three,” I said quietly. Enduring this round of questioning and not jeopardizing future-Equestria too much would require a deft touch, and it was proving tricky to develop one.

“So what are you, Rarity of Ponyville, wherever that may be?” Clover just looked confused. Who could fault her?

“I’m … reluctant to say.” Clover opened her mouth, and I pressed on. “Please, I know that sounds suspicious. But if you’re about to ask me why I’m reluctant to say, then I’m not altogether sure I can even explain why without doing damage.”

“Such ease that sets me at.” Clover’s voice was dry. “Can you explain why you can’t explain why, or does this way endless farcical iteration lie?”

“...I’m really not informed informed enough on the subject to take chances,” I managed. “On my word, I mean you no harm at all, I’ve simply been the subject of forces beyond my apprehension, and the best way of resolving it all without calamity lies in you paying me as little heed as possible.”

Clover gave me a flat look. Platinum coughed to herself. I evaluated how well that had done in easing tensions, and had to admit it wasn’t my best output.

“As it turns out, we are both unicorns who dislike taking chances on unknown subjects, Rarity of Ponyville.” Clover kneaded her brow with a forehoof. “Consider yourself detained until you decide to become more forthcoming.”

“What? You can’t do that! I’ve done nothing to —”

“Does this displease you? Then merely speak.”

“I can’t.”

“So be it.” Clover shook her head. “Maybe I should see if any of the other tribes has a notion of what you are. I had hoped to treat with them tomorrow regardless. I believe we are all bound for Dream Valley, and I … I hope we can all reach an accord —”

“No,” rasped Platinum. She threatened to totter upright, and Clover turned on her hastily. “No. There shall be no ... treating. There shall be no accord.”

“Your Highness,” began Clover, with the air of one who’d had this argument and who it hadn’t grown on. “Please—”

“Where … have they been?” hissed Platinum. As she spoke, the winds outside gathered strength, and howled across the outside of the pavilion. “Where have they been during our privations? The pegasi … pleading helplessness before the weather. Their one skill … squandered when we struggled through the high passes! When the blizzards came scything down! Where were they? Where were the earth ponies? They had provisions for all, we are certain, yet where were they while we starved? When … when the old floundered in the snow, and foals thinned, and our subjects… when so many ...”

“Your Highness, we have no choice,” said Clover desperately. “Winter is hunting us, and if we can’t reach concord with the other tribes, then we’ll surely perish, each and every —”

“Let them perish!” snarled Platinum, and now the winds all but screamed. “We shall thrive! We … we have come too far to do any less!”

Her voice has risen to become something hoarse and savage, and over the bellowing of the storm outside, I struggled to make myself heard as well. “They’re struggling as well!” Both Clover and Platinum turned on me, and I hesitated. “They’re … they’re struggling also. All of you.”

Both of them regarded me in silence, and I pressed on, racking through these old history lessons once again. “The pegasi under Hurricane? They’ve taken the route straight south from the Greycairns, and they’ve been battered left and right by the snowstorms, and they’ve got less food than you at this point. And the earth ponies under Puddinghead … I know they’re a ways north-west of you, coming through frozen marshes, and they’re on their last legs as well. I know you’ve enmity towards them, but please, they’re all suffering, and they’re not—”

“What interesting details,” said Clover suddenly. “The furthest-ranging and fittest of what scouts we have left have reported similar positions on the part of the other tribes. Which begs the question, Rarity of Ponyville, how on earth do you know of these things?”

I hesitated.

I hesitated some more, on the off-chance it would help.

It didn’t, but a third time’s supposedly the charm, and so I —

“Rarity, I have collected a few clues, and I don’t intend to let this matter drop,” said Clover. “Is it better that I start guessing what you may be and act accordingly? Would that do any less ‘damage’ than you suspect my knowledge would?”

Take this as the foremost lesson from my tale, if nothing else; know how time travel works. Then you might be able to answer these sorts of questions with some authority. For my part, I could only feel helpless and wretched. I looked up at Clover, and her eyes were hard and bright, as they so often were.

And weary as well. Which they were even more frequently.

I considered my position. Had she not just said that she was planning on treating with the other tribes regardless? Unification was on the cards regardless, for all that Clover didn’t seem optimistic. All I had to do in an answer was not jeopardise that, to not stoke wrath or undermine whatever negotiations would come tomorrow. So long I could control what Clover concluded, and not leave her guessing at random.

Consider the subject matter I was dancing around, as well. Was Clover not the foremost magic-wielder of her time? Was she not notoriously the Clever? Was she not sensible? Could she not be trusted?

One more bout of hesitation then, just for good luck, and then I said, “Clover, how much do you know about chronomancy?”

Clover opened her mouth.

Then she closed it. She looked at my clothes, and the mechanically-precise stitching that Princess Platinum so gratifyingly commended. She looked at my frame, and then back up at my face.

“Some details,” she said slowly, lowly. “Scraps of the theory. Why do you bring it up?”

In for a bit, in for a … larger amount of bits, as the proverb goes. “Because I’ve been subject to it. I’ve been thrown backwards in time. And I’m waiting for my friends to save me, but until then, I can’t do anything here that threatens the timeline. I don’t know how much harm I might do.”

It all came out as one breath, and when I stopped, Clover looked at me in perfect silence. Platinum hovered over her bowl of brose, only approximately in touch with current events. Outside, the wind billowed and things clattered

Platinum spoke first, with the air of one who was only loosely in touch with the conversational thread. “We … back home, we once saw a play with time travel in it.”

Clover released a breath. “I, ah, think I remember that play as well, Your Highness.”

“We found the plot too convoluted to follow,” Platinum said vaguely after staring briefly into space. “We did like the two comic gravediggers, though. We commanded that there be a follow-up play putting them at the forefront.”

“I … I do recall the playwright biting through his quill before promising his best effort, Your Highness,” said Clover, tucking the rug over Platinum. “Why don’t you get some more rest? Your ponies shall need you at your best on the morrow.”

“We are that customarily, though,” mumbled Platinum, sounding somewhat disgruntled but putting up little resistance. Clover saw to her, and then turned back to me. For the first time since seeing her in the flesh, she seemed almost trepid.

“I believe you. That would explain the magical disturbance from before. And I have seen much stranger things.” She started slowly. “But I understood time to be a ... fixed loop. That what might be done by a chrononaut was meant to be done, that their present already depended on whatever malarkey they wrought.”

“Sometimes. There is apparently disagreement on this, as I can make out. Making too great a change in the past can imperil what comes after, and though I’m not clear on the existential implications of that, I know enough to be wary.”

Clover looked me over, and I wondered what she was looking at. At the whole of the apparently hale and hearty unicorn from centuries on in the future? At my garb to glean what we considered the height of fashion? At my mannerisms?

At the horn on my head? Her eyes seemed to fixate there, turn briefly back to Platinum, and then swivel back towards me. Her mouth opened and closed, and questions piled up behind her staring eyes, I could tell. She all but hopped from hoof to hoof, so great was her sudden agitation.

“What happens?” she whispered. “I … we live, plainly, but how? How many? How do we do it? Do we turn back, or head eastwards instead? What happens to us? Do we make unity or war? Does something unforeseen interfere? What happens?”

I took a step back and tried my best to speak gently. “Clover, I mustn’t answer that.”

“What do I do?” she hissed, taking two steps forward. “What’s best? We’ve been wandering in the dark for so long, with little hope to speak of. Give me something! Some certainty!”

“I can’t —”

“Please!”

“I can’t!”

Hush then, as she stared at me and breathed heavily, trembling where she stood. I stared back, forcing myself to maintain eye contact with the simmering well of emotion before me. Platinum looked up and between the pair of us, apparently unsure what the shouting was in aid of. “Cease this loudness,” she murmured at the world in general.

Clover took a long, deep breath, studied the space between her forehooves for a moment.

“I understand,” she said, trying to put on as brave a face as possible when the consequences a thousand years down the line were staring her in the face, shorn of any context. “You know how it’ll go. You don’t wish to invoke the … what is it now? The ‘killing your own grand-dam’ problem.”

“That’s a concept you have as well?”

“Yes. I shall not query the base ethics of chrononauts, if they don’t query mine.” Clover studied the floor between her forehooves. “And I understand you don’t want me to query you. Lest the knowledge I gain prejudice my future actions, to the detriment of all you know in your own time.”

“I’m sorry,” I replied. What else was there to say?

“Tomorrow, I intend to seek peace and friendship with the other tribes,” she said slowly, carefully, like someone testing the waters with a hoof. “If they have more knowledge than I on how to drive back the demons behind this winter, then we may all yet live. There’s a few who think like me. But if Platinum and those who think like her have their way, and the Chancellor and Commander are as unyielding when last we saw them … then I don’t know what follows. Maybe the winter continues. Maybe it stops in time, once the demons have had their sport. Either way, I don’t see a way it ends without more strife, more conflict, maybe war to the finish. But if I’m sure there’s others in the tribes who don’t want that. If we can all work on our leaders … if we can all find a better way ...”

She inspected my features, desperately looking for any sign, any tell-tale give, and it was all I could do to maintain complete composure, much as I wished to reassure her. Eventually, she relented.

“When do you believe your friends will come for you?” she said.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “There are exact mechanics involved, I assume, but I don’t know what they are. I do hope soon.”

Clover nodded. “If they’re delayed, you may bide the night here. Borrow my spot by the fire. I’ll doubt I’ll be getting much rest tonight.”

When coming from a pony who didn’t have much in the world besides that spot by the fire, it was an offer to make one feel distinctly unworthy, and to make one hang one’s head. Especially after what I’d just had to deny her.

A night without rest. How long would that night be for her, dark and frigid and storm-wracked as it was, with a whole nation’s fates potentially resting in your hooves on the morrow and not a word of consolation offered up by what was to come? And how hopeful did she feel? Whatever she’d said regarding the next day had been peppered with ‘ifs’ at every turn, and every smile she’d worn had been weary or put-upon or both. Scant optimism about her efforts, for all she felt they needed attempting.

The wind howled outside the pavilion’s walls, and my thoughts went to all the unicorns out there as well. All of them huddled around hungry fires, under the eyes of the windigos themselves, dressed in rags and tatters and with little filling their bellies, if Platinum’s own provisions had been any measure. And past them, to all the earth ponies and pegasi, shivering wherever they rested as well.

On the grandest of levels, on this night of all nights, one had to consider the destiny of Equestria. All the souls within it yet to come, who would live with the consequences of a stray word here or there. The night might have been dark and starved of hope, but it would pass and turn out for the better. Surely it would. What place of mine was it to interfere?

On a night like this, what place wasn’t it?

My head rose.

“Oh, stars take it,” I said aloud. “I can do something. I’ll do something. Hang on here, I’ll be back presently.”

“What? Rarity —” said Clover, a second too late, as Platinum lifted her groggy head. I was already turning and rushing for the pavilion flap, pushing out into the pelting blizzard beyond. Darkness overcame me, and I summoned light to see by, the whole world turning into a torrent of silver flakes.

Back up the rock wall behind the pavilion I went, scrabbling and puffing and scraping myself on things until I was up and clear. Back into the wild woods, over root and ridge and what felt like every slick impediment in the world. There were distant calls at my back, I thought, and cruel laughter from the sky, but no matter. I was committed.

After interminable minutes, back down into the gully where I’d first found myself, where my quarry still rested in piles all around, dusted with fresh snowfall. I swept it all up with one magical motion and caught my breath for a moment. Then I turned around and tore back the way.

Envisage a return journey much like the first, albeit with less teleportation, less assistance, more distraction and encumbrance, and significantly more tripping and yelping. Thankfully, it passed, and ere long I skidded back down the slope of the rock wall and made for the waiting pavilion.

“Rarity?” exclaimed Clover as I stumbled back through the pavilion’s flap. Princess Platinum blinked in my direction as well, as befuddled as a pony could get. “What in the Creator’s name was that? You charged off with scarcely any warning —”

“I went retrieving,” I panted, and I drew in all the bags I’d gathered up from the gully and bundled them into the pavilion. My entire winter range.

“What on earth —”

“I shan’t go into the design details, as I don’t think any of the terms so much as exist,” I said, still breathless, as I pulled them out of the bags and folded them up into neat piles that started to fill the pavilion. “But they’re all made for beauty and utility both. Dresses, see? And hats, saddles, scarves, boots, leg-warmers, all sorts. There’s not an abundance, I appreciate, but, ah, let them go to wherever they’re needed the most. Nothing in a foal’s size, alas, but if one needs any of them, do feel free to cut them down and repurpose the spare material. Keep the bags as well, they’re good canvas. Some of the materials might be a shade tougher than you’re used to, so if scissors don’t work when refitting, use a doughtier blade and punch hard with your needle. As for —”

Clover stared at the collection, wide-eyed. Platinum seemed faintly curious, and her pale magic lifted over a gown, which she inspected for a moment. “What odd-looking garments,” she said amiably.

As self-effacing and modest as I may usually be, and as delirious on the giving spirit I was, that off-hoof ‘odd’ rankled. Even in the face of heroes of antiquity, one must defend the honour of one’s craftmareship. “I anticipated them being received very well indeed by Chic magazine, if you must know, Your Highness” I said, a smidge frigidly.

“Chick what-now?” Platinum studied the gown. “Most snug, though. Clover, are there any outside in need of clothes?”

Clover swallowed. “I … some families come to mind. Others. I … I shall see them garbed before time passes.” She looked to me, to the winter range again, and then back to me. Her voice came out a bit hoarse. “How? And why?”

“When I crossed paths with chronomancy, I’d just finished making these and was in the middle of delivering them. As for why …” I hunted for the answer for a moment, and decided on, “...it’s a cold night. And I suspect a scarf or two here and there won’t change the destiny of Equestria too much.”

Clover didn’t speak, and lifted over some of the clothes to study them for herself, turning them this way and that to inspect the fabric.

“Good pony,” rasped Platinum suddenly. “We were distracted earlier. Remind us of your name.”

“Rarity, Your Highness,” I said, turning to her.

She smiled, and for all it was drained, it was entirely genuine. “You are … a credit to the dressmaking profession. We shall be pleased to offer you a royal commission once we are … settled again.”

It wasn’t my first royal commission, but it was my earliest, and I glowed. And I would have answered, had there not come a choke from Clover. I turned on her, and her staring down at a dress within her magic. Whatever about the dress had startled her wasn’t clear for a moment, until I studied it more closely and realised one crucial aspect about the design.

There were openings at the back, to accommodate a pegasus’s wings.

Clover looked directly at me, and I realised there were tears in her eyes.

“Oh,” I said, in an entirely un-discomfited manner, I assure you. “Oh, fie. Fiddle. I, um —”

“Don’t say anything,” said Clover, her voice thick with what I realised was joy. “You don’t have to. And you don’t have to worry about things being ruined. There will be unity, like there was already going to be. You don’t have to nod. And you don’t have to worry that I’ll talk. If you like, these were found in an old crate somewhere we’d been lugging along all this time, and goodness knows who the competent maker was.”

I stared round at Platinum, who was engrossed with a boot. “What about ...” I whispered, nodding at her.

“Don’t worry,” Clover coughed, scuffing at her eyes. “She can be … suggestible, especially in her current state. This can all have been a fever dream, if I persuade her of it.”

I nodded. Anxiety twisted a knot in my stomach, before I forced it down. If I’d not inspired anything that wasn’t already going to happen, surely Equestria as I knew it would live. If Clover was a canny mare who’d keep what needed to be hushed hushed, then surely the impact would be minimal.

And if all I’d done was make a few ponies happier for one night, on a night when happiness was sorely needed … then that would be enough.

Conversation ceased for a while, as everybody stopped trusting themselves to speak and as Platinum cooed at the boot. Off in the distance, past winter’s roar, there was a sound.

The sound was vwoorp.

I coughed and rose. “I believe that’s my faith being justified.” A novelty though the deep past could be, I ached to hear my friends’ voices, to see Sweetie Belle, Ponyville, my boutique, everything long on from here.

“Your rescuers?” Clover glanced in the direction of the vwoorp. “That’s from the forest at our backs, if I’m not mistaken. You’ll be going, then?”

“Yes. Yes, and quickly too, lest they wander over here, and time risks getting in even more of a muddle.” I drew myself up and prepared to give them both the respectful bow that heroes of antiquity deserved. “Well. Farewell, both of —”

“Come here,” said Clover roughly, and drew me into a sudden hug. I froze, then yielded, and embraced her unreservedly for a long moment.

“Well,” I said, as we both pulled back. “Ah. Happy Hearthswarming.”

Clover’s tearful smile tilted. “Happy what?”

“First of many,” I replied. “Possibly I shouldn’t have said it, but it seemed to need saying. Best of luck tomorrow.”

“And to you.” Clover bowed briefly. “In whatever your tomorrow may hold.”

“Your Highness,” I said, turning to Platinum. “It was an honour to meet you. I’m afraid I must go.”

“So … soon?” Platinum frowned, and then nodded graciously up at me. “We were pleased to receive you, good Rarity, and you … will be welcome to seek court at any time.”

One last farewell bow, and I backed towards Clover. “Between you and me,” I murmured, as I drew close to her, “now that you’ve guessed our situation, at one point in the future, I play the role of her on-stage. In a traditional historical production we put on most years. A dramatisation of events here, you understand.”

Clover looked from me to Platinum, and the notion seemed to entertain her. “Hah! She becomes a figure of note in history, then?”

“Indeed she does. And a much better pony than I plays you.”

Clover boggled, and that seemed like a perfect note on which to depart. I slipped out the pavilion flap and headed back out into the last wild night for a long while.

Though one last realisation seized me, and I whipped off my scarlet garb, leaned back into the pavilion, lobbed them at the existing piles and called out to their startled faces, “These’ll help clothe somepony as well!” Then I was off. Brisk it may have been, but I was sure a minute or so’s unclothedness wouldn’t do me too much harm.

Up the rock wall once more, clambering and slipping and shivering, and as I sprackled up into the woods once more, I heard voices in the distance.

“...and so, my faithful student and student’s student, I hope a valuable lesson about experimental chronomancy has been learned.” That voice was Princess Celestia’s. No effort had been spared in my retrieval, and I felt rather touched.

“We’re sorry, Princess Celestia.” That was Twilight. “The books’ll be going back to the protected wing in Canterlot Palace and staying there, you have my word.”

A pause, and then Starlight. “I’m sure if we’d just invested a little more power into Grimoire’s Dweomerlayk, we’d have — ow!”

“Not the time, Starlight!”

“I’d be much more severe,” said Celestia, “if during my own younger days, I myself hadn’t imperiled Creation several times. In my defence, though, I was tipsy most of said times. Luna will be delighted to dispense the details, I’m sure. Now please search for Rarity while I hold the portal open. And should either of you catch sight of your grandmothers, please refrain from —”

And it was at that moment, half-delirious with the sheer blistering cold, that I stumbled into the clearing where they’d emerged. Twilight and Starlight, bundled up in my own designs, and an unclothed Celestia behind them, casually holding open a great oval-shaped portal in time open with her magic. I sighted Ponyville on the other sight and stumbled vaguely onwards as my legs threatened to simply freeze off.

Then warm hooves and magical auras caught me, matters became a bit of a blur, and home we apparently went.

***

Upon returning, after the initial volley of hugs and how-are-yous and I’m-fines and what-happeneds, I interrogated everypony I met, grabbed hold of every paper and magazine and current-events periodical and read them in furious detail, and consulted every history textbook Twilight’s palace’s library had on hand until my eyes ached.

Succumbing to a sneezing fit as the nastiest cold I’ve ever had overcame me didn’t help matters either. A minute or so’s unclothedness exacted its price, and took my dignity as interest.

But everypony was as they were. The research had failed to turn up any glaring discrepancies. The world was ticking by in the same style as I’d left it. Equestria had not been irrevocably changed by my actions, which is always a commendable outcome for any time-traveller.

There was one rather major problem that needed to be addressed, though.

“And, ah, in essence, that’s why stock for the winter range may be a little more limited than anticipated,” I told Sassy Saddles and Plaid Stripes the day after, concluding with a thunderous sneeze. We were all mustered in an upmarket Manehattan coffeehouse, wrapped around various warm liquids. Espresso for Sassy, a towering hot chocolate for Plaid, and a pot holding approximately all the chamomile tea in the world for myself.

Plaid looked agog. Sassy looked mixed parts intrigued and exasperated. I shifted in my chair, embarrassed under her regard. “I’m very, very sorry about this, you two.”

“It sounds like it was done in a worthy cause, at least,” sighed Sassy “I suppose I knew you were based in Ponyville when I took up the job; this sort of event must be factored in. In any case, I’m sure there are some suitably festive-looking items I can fish out of storage.”

“Keep them there for now. I’ll send you what I’d reserved for Ponyville on the first train tomorrow,” I said before turning to Plaid.“Plaid darling, if you have anything in storage that’s suitable for the season —”

“It’s alright, Miss Rarity, I’m a step ahead of you.” Plaid leaned in with a conspiratorial smile. “Remember how I had that idea for decorating dresses with baubles? And how I then thought, ‘wait, what if I just made the whole of the dress out of lots of little baubles?’”

“I … have indelible memories of that particular conversation, Plaid.” One does not simply forget that sort of thing. In my nightmares, I sometime still hear her prototype jangling.

“Yeah! You screamed with joy when I showed you my sketches, remember? And you said that if I made the dresses, we could call putting them on display ‘Plan B’?”

“I, er.”

Plaid beamed. “Plan B’s here to save the day, Miss Rarity!”

I didn’t burst into tears, let it be noted. And I managed to disguise my one involuntary sob as a cough, I think.

“A one-shop range, then,” said Sassy. She looked concerned. “Are you certain you don’t wish to keep your own stock for yourself, Rarity? I can get by in Canterlot, I’m sure.”

“More exposure to be had for it in Canterlot,” I replied, possibly a shade too breezily. Having nothing for the boutique stung. “More chance of a Chic reporter stopping by, which is always important. If I work like the clappers for the next few days, I can recreate some of the designs, I’m sure.”

Sassy Saddles hesitated. “Rarity, with all respect, you’re in no position to work like the clappers.”

“You’ve brought up your own weight in phlegm into these tissues since we got in here. You need to rest,” said Plaid, somewhat less diplomatically.

I would have protested, had a bassoon-like sneeze not thundered out of me that instant, and so I begrudgingly conceded the point. “It is a pity,” I muttered to myself. “I was so very proud of the designs.”

“Do you have the sketches?” said Plaid. “Could we see them?”

“I do indeed, and why not?” I dipped into my saddlebags, and brought out the sheets on which I’d sketched the initial designs. “Have a look.”

The papers unfolded, and the pair obligingly had a look. “Hmm,” said Sassy, nodding with approval. “Taking notes from antiquity?”

“I … Nouveau was my intention. Do they not —?”

“Yeah, they’re a lot like the dresses you see ponies wearing in old paintings and tapestries and such, just after Equestria was made.” Plaid leaned closer. “See? They all went in for those sorts of floral-patterned sleeves back then.”

I opened my mouth to protest, to query, and then realised. Bewilderment, vertigo, and some frustration at originality scuppered flared up in my mind … and then all subsided. I instead leaned back, and sipped at my tea as Sassy and Plaid’s features creased with realisation, and animated discussion commenced.

Possibly I would get into trouble once Twilight and others found out about it. But for now, I could be content with that change.

The first time ever [to Mavinator5, from Olden Bronie]

Octavia sat in her soft overstuffed chair, cup of hot tea in hoof, watching through the window. The snow was coming down steadily and she was happy to be inside, sitting near the fireplace which, with the tea, helped to keep the cold at bay. As she watched the snow slowly piling up in the streets of Ponyville, she smiled while thinking of memories from a few years past.

Her house-mate, a white unicorn mare with a short cut blue mane and magenta eyes, was sorting through sound tracks on her synthesizer just across the room. While she dubbed various tracks and sounds together for a dance party later in the evening for a Hearth's Warming Eve party, she looked toward Octavia and noticed her smile.

“Bit for your thoughts, Octy.”, she said to her.

Octavia stirred and glanced toward the mare, smiling wider, while brushing her dark mane behind her ear. “Oh, I was just remembering my first Hearth's Warming here in Ponyville. Do you recall that time, Vinyl?”

“Of course I do, Otcy! You sure had your tail in twist that night!”, Vinyl Scratch added with a laugh.

Octavia's eyes opened wide, her pupils shirking to pin-pricks and her cheeks turning crimson. “I most certainly did not!”, she retorted, turning away and frowning. “I was just homesick and a bit blue, that's all.”

“More like stuck up, pretentious and grumpy, it seemed to me”, Vinyl teased, laughter in her eyes.

“Hmph!” Octavia glared at her friend for a moment, then smiled slyly, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

“You owe me a bit.”

“What?”

“You inquired as to my thoughts and I told you. Pay up.”

Vinyl grinned and tossed her a bit. “Fair enough”, she said, “but I know you had a great time by the end of that night.”

“I did, indeed”, Octavia replied smiling warmly. “As I recall, it started with you asking me about my thoughts that night, as well.”

“It cost me a bit that night, too”, Vinyl laughed.

Three years earlier….

Vinyl walked into the living room to find Octavia slumped on the couch. Just as she had been two hours ago. And an hour before that. She looked disheveled and unhappy. Her usually well kempt dark mane and tail were a tangled mess. Her coat was uncombed and scruffy. She had a forlorn look in her eyes as she started out the window. She could sense that something was wrong, but hadn't been able to coax and answer from her since she had arrived two days before.

They had been friends for a couple of years in Canterlot, having met in music college. Though they studied and enjoyed widely different styles, they found a common bond in their love of music it self. After school, Vinyl had traveled Equestria, playing popular music and her own dub and drop bass style in dance and night clubs. Her music style had become wildly popular very quickly. She enjoyed the fame and popularity immensely. But her friend, the dark gray mare reclining on the couch before her, had been her rock, her confidant, somepony she trusted through all the fame and attention she earned.

To see her in this state was just too much. Octavia was prim, poised and confident, always. Something had happened and Vinyl was determined not only to find out what but to cheer up her best friend.

Vinyl approached her and looked into her eyes.

“A bit for your thoughts, Octy.”

Octavia stirred lightly, glancing up at the other mare. “You know I dislike it when you call me 'Octy'. And they aren't worth a bit.”

Well it was a start, Vinyl thought to herself.

“Why don't you tell anyway. It might earn you a bit.”, she coaxed.

Octavia sighed and pushed herself up to sit up on the couch.

“I may well need that bit, you know.”, she said sadly.

Vinyl sat silently, waiting for her friend to continue.

“I lost my chair at the orchestra, Vinyl”, she whimpered, tears beginning to brim in her eyes.

Vinyl stared back, stunned. “What?! H-how could they...”

Octavia was the best cellist in the Canterlot Symphony, first chair, For three year running.

Tears were running down Octavia's cheeks as she continued. “The head conductor asked me out on a date and I declined. Then he told me if I didn't go out with him, he would terminate my position with the symphony. He had me fired, after he told the head of the company that I had been harassing him and attempting to move up in the symphony by offering him 'favors', if you get my meaning'.”

Octavia's face was filled with a deep scowl and tears of anger. Her voice rose loudly.

“How could he even say things like that!? How did he convince them so easily that I would do such a thing?! It's disgusting and deceitful and I-I….I thought they liked me, Vinyl!”, she wailed.
Vinyl sat in shock for just a moment, then reached out and pulled her sobbing friend into a deep hug. She held her there while she cried, her sorrow and pain flowing out of her with each sob. They sat for sometime, until Octavia pulled away and started to compose herself.

“It feels better when you share. You always told me that you know.”

Octavia wiped away a tear and gave a slight smile. “A little. Thank you.”

Vinyl leaned back and reached down beside the couch. Pulling up her saddlebags, she produced a handkerchief and put it into her friends hooves, along with a bit.

Octavia looked back, puzzled. “What's this then?”

“I asked for your thoughts and you answered. There's your bit.”

She gave a little laugh and grinned back at her. “You are just the best, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know!”

They sat in silence for a while until Vinyl asked, “So, what happens now? When are you getting your spot back?”

Octavia gave her a resigned look. “Well, of course I demanded a meeting with the board. My father went with me and I feel I made an excellent case for reinstatement.”

“But….”

She sighed deeply,”Even though some of the board believed me, they are conducting a full investigation. Until it is complete, they removed me from the symphony and refused to allow me to participate in any of the holiday performances.”

“What about the scum bag conductor?,” Vinyl asked. “Don't tell me he got to stay on?! Isn't your dad a lawyer? Couldn't he convince them you didn't do anything?!” Vinyl's voice raised a bit as her own anger came out.

“He did insist that they hold the investigation, Vinyl. The board was ready to just dismiss me out of turn. Neither of us can attend events or return to the hall until the investigation is complete.”

“Well, there's that, at least. It's still not fair, Octy.”

“No, but I believe I will prevail in the end. Though I quite agree, I shouldn't have to endure this type of treatment.”

Octavia hung her head again and muttered, “I just so miss Canterlot at Hearth's Warming though. All the grand balls, the concerts, the decorations and lights and the fun.”

“Why can't you have that here? It's still Hearth's Warming, you know.”

“Oh, Vinyl, thank you for trying….but this is Ponyville.” she said a bit sarcastically. “It just wouldn't be the same. It's so…..”

Vinyl raised an eyebrow. “So, what? Unrefined, uncouth?! Not good enough for you and your upscale tastes, Octy? Ponyville a bit too backward for you?”

Octavia's eyes widened and her ears lay back. “No, no! That isn't what I meant at all!”

Vinyl glared at her skeptically. “So just what were you trying to say?”

She looked down at the floor and muttered quietly, “It just isn't home, Vinyl. I miss being home for the holiday. I'm sure Ponyville has their own way of celebrating and that it is just as wonderful. It just wouldn’t be what I'm used to doing and being a part of during this time of year.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend.”, Octavia offered quietly.

Vinyl smiled. “Yeah, I'm sorry, too. I just hear somepony put down Ponyville when they don't live here and know how great it is. They should give it a chance before they put it down, ya know?”

“Of course I understand. Someponies feel that Canterlot is full of snobby, stuck up ponies. It isn't completely true in the slightest.”

“Mostly, though!”, Vinyl retorted, earned her an indignant look from her friend.

“Vinyl, you should really heed your own advice, don't you think?”

“True, true.”

“So, where do you want to go first?, Vinyl asked.

“Whatever do you mean?” asked Octavia.

“It's Hearth's Warming Eve, Otcy. I'm not going to just let you sit in my house and have you miss it. Come on, let's get going!”

“Oh, Vinyl! I don't know….I'm liable to be very poor company, considering everything that has happened. Do g- go ahead, though, I'll be quite fine here, alone.”, Octavia said with a small but sad smile.

Vinyl only grinned wider. “Nothing doing, sister! No one in Ponyville is alone on Hearth's Warming Eve.” She grabbed her hoof and moved toward the door to her home. “Besides, once Pinkie Pie finds out you're here, you'll be a part of the town, anyway! So we may as well get started.”

“Whom is Pinkie Pie? I don't think we've met?”

“Don't worry, Octy. She already knows you!”

The rest of the evening was nearly a blur for Octavia. But she had more fun than she could ever remember having at Hearth's Warming in all her years living in Canterlot.
From viewing the unusual and sometimes eclectic outdoor decorations of some of the residents (Cranky Doodle had the most varied collection of ornaments and decorations of anypony) to the grandeur of Carousel Boutique's coordinated lighting display, Octavia could truly say she had never seen anything like it in Canterlot.

The party at Sugarcube Corner was, well, intense but warm and friendly. Vinyl had a huge crowd for the dance party. Even though it wasn't her style of music, Octavia was happy to she her friend having fun and making the party swing! And Vinyl was uncannily correct about Miss Pinkie Pie and her knowledge of Octavia Melody. It was a bit unsettling at first, but she could tell Pinkie had a good soul and just wanted her to have a good time.

The most impressive event, though, turned out to be one she would have never guessed.

After all the wubs and confetti had faded from sight and sound, Vinyl insisted they go to Ponyville General. She was most secretive and mysterious about the reason, though. Octavia was getting a bit concerned until the nurse brought them to the foals ward. She still didn't fully understand until they opened the door and all the colts and fillies saw Vinyl and cheered.

Vinyl was there to spend an evening with all theses foals and their families. Just to bring them a little happiness and warmth on a night Octavia knew they all wished to be in their homes together. She sang Hearth's Warming carols with Vinyl and all the foals and parents. Even though they were out of tune and missed some of the words, it was still the best concert she had ever participated in with such good friends.

As they were leaving sometime later, she saw Vinyl give the nurse a large envelope and point to a closet down the hallway, with a whispered explanation and a shocked but warm look from the nursing staff. Vinyl motioned to Octavia that they should go and they quickly left before anypony could say much else to either of them except 'Thank you!'

Once they were outside and away from the doors, Octavia turned and stopped her friend.

“Alright, then. What was that on about then?”

“What do you mean, Otcy?, Vinyl pleaded innocently.

“Don't be coy with me. What were you up to visiting here? You never used to enjoy spending time with foals. Where has that come from?”, Octavia said, warmly smiling.

“Aw, come on, Octy. I'm just being nice. It's good to be nice to foals on Hearth's Warming. It brings good luck!”, she said with a bit of flair.

“The famous DJ spends Hearth's Warming with foals, entertaining them and giving them gifts and helping their parents. Yet no pony has ever heard of the generous Vinyl Scratch.”

Oh, so I'm just a partying jet-setter, right?”, Vinyl laughed.

“Don't worry, Vi”, Octavia told her with a wink. “your secrets safe with me.”

“Thank, Octy. I do it for them, not for me.”

Back in the present….

Vinyl started out the window, lost in thought while her friend recounted the story. Suddenly Octavia turned to her and noticed her contemplation.

“A bit for your thoughts, Vinyl.”

Vinyl blinked and turned to her. “Oh, just thinking that it sure has been great that you stayed even when you could have gone back to Canterlot and the symphony after you won your case.”

“You helped me see that where your friends are is where your home is. This is my home now.”

Vinyl looked at her and smiled.

“And you answered my question”, she said , flipping the to coin to her. “Here's your bit.”

The Royal Duel [to TheAmazingMe, from Flutterpriest]

"So that's when I said that SHE didn't have any manners! That poor mare," Blueblood said. "I really did try to let her down softly. But only so much could be done. It's a terrible shame."

"It happens," Celestia said, piping up beside him. "Some ponies just think that Royalty will swoon over them and make all their dreams come true."

"Hey, it worked for me!" Shining chuckled. It wasn't often that he and Cadance had guests in the Crystal Empire, but none were more welcome than Celestia and Blueblood. It provided an opportunity for the Princesses to 'let down their hair' so to speak. "I consider it a blessing I was able to woo such a charming, graceful Princess."

Cadance had her face buried in a corn cob, only half paying to the conversation. She lifted her head then looked at the table.

"Oh! Uh, yes. I love you too. Why do royal events have to always serve such tiny food and encourage so many different manners? I mean really. It's oppression I'm telling you. We should do something about that. I was ready for salad for lunch today and they served a LEAF."

Celestia snickered to herself, swirling a glass of wine with the golden magic from her horn.

"The royal life is a difficult one."

"I believe it," Shining says. "I'm happy I don't have to do a lot of the Prince related tasks and stick mostly to guard work. At least then I'm able to get a good workout every day."

Prince Blueblood cleared his throat and patted his chest after fluid went down the wrong pipe. His attention turned to Shining Armor with a sense of mild irritation.

"Are you implying that Royalty is weak?" Prince Blueblood asks. Celestia and Cadance each snicker to themselves.

"Oh Blueblood, you know he doesn't mean that," Celestia adds.

"I am the peak of physical fitness, tell 'em Shiny."

Shining grows quiet. His head goes back down to his food.

"Tell him," Cadance says, setting down her corn.

"Well, I mean," Shining says. "When was the last time you guys actually took down a bad guy?"

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table.

"Well, Twilight-"

"My sister is a rainbow magical pony girl that's imbued with the elements of friendship. I don't think that really counts. I mean when was the last time that Royalty -really- took down the bad guy?"

Celestia bites her bottom lip and looks down to her food.

"Er, well. We're usually busy and stuff," Cadance adds.

"I'm just saying that with a little combat training, something we already do with the guards, you guys could defend yourselves. No more abductions. Twilight can sleep better at night."

"Royalty aren't weak!" Blueblood says, standing at his place at the table. "I'll show you weak! I challenge you to a duel!"

Shining remains in place, looking up at Blueblood. Then, a smile curls on his lips. Then, a snicker sneaks out the sides of his mouth.

"I swear, if this is a card games joke, I'm going to actually lose it," Shining says.

"A duel of the sword!" Blueblood shouts. "To the Death!"

"Uh, no," Cadance says. "Flag on the play. He's married. I am NOT going to be a widow when I look this pretty."

"Seconded," Celestia interjects. "Plus he would kill you, Blueblood."

Blueblood looks incredulously to the two Princesses.

"You two don't believe that I could take down one guard?"

"Captian of the Royal Guard. And the Crystal Guard, technically," Shining interjects.

In unison, the Princesses shook their heads and muttered unconfident phrases.

"Fine," Blueblood says. "Then, I challenge you to a hoof wrestle."

Each of the ponies at the table burst into uncontrolled, unrelenting laughter. Blueblood remained serious, staring down his opponent. Once the table quieted down, Shining looked back up at Blueblood curiously.

"Oh you're serious," Shining says in disbelief. "Well. Alright. Fine. You asked for it."

"I'm getting popcorn," Cadance said.

"I need more wine," Celestia added.

The table was cleared. Shining and Blueblood sat across from each other, massaging their hooves for the big challenge.

"Please don't break his hoof, Shining," Celestia said as she sat down in Blueblood's corner. "Don't think I don't remember your first year in Guard Academy."

"Wait- what?" Blueblood asked in a panicked tone.

"Alright. The rules are simple," Cadance says. "Winner is who can get the other opponent's hoof down. No elbows off the table. Any funny-business, foot stomping, or other ways of distracting your opponent is disqualification. This is just one match, and not a best two out of three."

Shining placed his hoof up on the table.

"Let's do this. We have pie for dessert. We whipped the cream ourselves," Shining says non-chillingly.

"How are you all so -calm- about this?!" Blueblood shouts.

"Well, he does have a point. We kind of are helpless," Cadance says. "But it's nothing new. And we don't have time to do anything about it. We're locked up in negotiations most of the time. Celestia and Luna are the most experienced. I'm literally a mother, so I don't want to put my life on the line, and Twilight is a young scrappy magic user that has some of the best backup in Equestria. Why wouldn't we just let her do all the dirty work while we do that? I mean, could you see Twilight trying to broker trade deals or negotiate deals with infrastructure contractors?"

Blueblood remains silent.

"So, this isn't a lash at your honor."

"No," Celestia says. "It was constructive criticism. Sometimes it's not fun to get, but you need it. It's what it is."

Blueblood sighed and placed his hoof on the table.

"Please don't kill me," Blueblood says.

Shining grabs his hoof and smiles back at him.

"Don't worry, I'll go easy on ya."

Cadance places her hooves over the stallions' grip.

"Three. Two. One. Go!"

Then the table literally broke in half.

Blueblood's hoof was pushed through the actual table, and a deep split went down the table from the force of the impact. Prince Blueblood's eyes shot wide as he looked to his hoof, a bruise quickly forming. He was in that moment of shock and belief before the pain set in.

"Well, that was anticlimactic," Celestia said, lighting her horn. A bandage quickly appeared from thin air and wrapped Blueblood's fragile hoof.

Shining shrugged and looked back to the Princesses with a smile.

"Pie?"

"Yes, please," Cadance says. "I've been thinking of that pie ALL DAY!"

"That..." Blueblood said in astonishment. "Why don't you guys fight the bad guys?"

"That's not our job," Shining says with a smile. "We keep the citizens safe. That's our first job. We'd rather have as few civilian casualties as possible, rather than end the evil in some brutal way. If we focus on just vanquishing the enemy, what separates us from our enemies?"

A light blue aura from Cadance's horn quickly fixed the kitchen table and levitated the dessert in from the kitchen.

"I guess I never realized how much work the Royal Guard does," Prince Blueblood mumbles.

"Hey, don't worry man," Shining says, dishing out a slice of dessert to his opponent. "Consider this your slice of humble pie."

The Visitor [to Solobrony, from TheBandBrony]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Filthy Rich wasn’t expecting a visitor on Hearth’s Warming Eve. He also wasn’t expecting one of the world’s greatest villains to appear at his doorstep asking for forgiveness. As Filthy finds out, he’s not the only one who’s on the receiving end of her strange plea.

No, her list is quite extensive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One dark Hearth’s Warming Eve, Silver Polish the butler heard some strange noises coming from his employer’s personal study. The Filthy Rich estate was always prone to drafts, but these sounded nothing like wind whistling through the cracks in the siding. This sounded like a struggle.

Silver Polish opened the study door to find Filthy flinging stacks of paper about the room in a fit of confused rage. He babbled incoherently, “Is this what you want? Is this what you want? Huh?”

Silver Polish considered leaving Filthy to work things out on his own (he usually preferred staff to stay out of his way) but another more pressing matter required his attention.

“Sir? Mister Rich?” Silver said in a posh accent.

Filthy paused. Paper fluttered to the ground like so many snowflakes. “Oh. Polish. Good evening.”

“Good evening to you too, sir. I don’t mean to interrupt, but there is someone here to see you.”

“Tonight of all nights? Is it a charity or something? I don’t give to charities on principle.”

“It’s not a charity, sir.”

“Well, whoever it is can wait. As you can see, I am extremely busy.” Filthy accidentally kicked a wad of papers on the floor, sending them skittering to a stop in the corner. “Very, very busy.”

“I can see, sir. But the... mare, at the door is quite insistent.” He paused. “Menacing, too.”

Filthy regarded the disheveled state of the room around him. “Alright, fine. I’ll see to it.”

“Very good, sir. Shall I reorganize these papers?”

“No, leave them. They are all exactly where they need to be.” He tried to step around Silver Polish only to slip on a multi-million bit contract, tearing the paper in two. “Except that one. That one could use some tape.”

Once Silver Polish had left the room, Filthy adjusted his bow tie and vest. He took one more apprehensive look around the study before making his way to the main foyer to see who had disturbed him.

Who to his surprise should be at the door but one-time most dangerous pony in Equestria, one-time terrorist, one-time failed dictator, one-time reformed goodie-goodie Tempest Shadow. Her shoulders were bowed with an unseen weight, and her horn all but crackled with nervous energy. Her eyes looked so tired. They roamed the floor aimlessly, tracing the boards of the hardwood floor stretching from beneath her hooves, across the room, all the way to Filthy.

“Mister... uh...” Tempest set her jaw. “Mister Rich. Filthy Rich, and family.”

“Shouldn’t you be in jail?” Filthy asked. “Or in Tartarus? Or someplace other than my house?”

“Filthy--”

“Mr. Rich will do.”

“And the daughter, Diamond Sliver? No, that Diamond Tiara. Filthy and Diamond Tiara and your wife--”

“Mr. Rich.”

“It would be Mrs., actually.”

Filthy scowled. “Again, shouldn’t you be in jail?” He turned to Silver Polish, who had reappeared in the corner of the room. “Make a note to talk to the princesses about the gross dereliction of our country’s justice department. The real criminals are beating down my door, and yet I’m the one under investigation for tax evasion every year. Obscene.”

“Mr. Rich and family, I’ve come here tonight on a mission.”

“Maybe I should try and take over the throne,” he said to no one in particular. “If I fail I’ll still be able to run around and harass the rich for handouts, apparently.” He turned to face Tempest. “Are you here for handouts? Or are you just going to skip the pleasantries and rob me?”

The tired look in Tempest’s eyes was momentarily replaced by pure rage. “I’ve come here tonight on a mission. My recent actions have had a profound effect on not just the lives of those in Canterlot, but all across Equestria. It’s my intention--”

“You sound like an intern giving her first boardroom briefing. Skip to the heart of the issue, please.”

“It is my intention,” Tempest said between grinding teeth, “to make amends for what I’ve done. Starting by asking for forgiveness from every pony in Equestria I have wronged.”

Filthy paused. He cast a confused look at Silver Polish, who shrugged. “So, you’re not going to rob me?”

“No. I hope that by expressing my sincere and heartfelt apology, you will at least in some small way understand my willingness to change and my desire to open my heart to the magic of friendship.”

“If you’re not going to rob me, I must ask that you leave.”

“I know this may be--” Tempest paused. “What?”

“Leave, please. Good luck on your journey. I would get someone to see you out, but everyone else is asleep, and you were never technically invited in.”

“But--but you ponies are all so forgiving.”

“Some of the more rustic ones, yes. Now goodbye.”

“But wait--”

With that, Filthy slammed the door in Tempest’s face. The halls rang with such a satisfying echo.

“Now, I will have to return to my study. Silver, please don’t let anyone else in tonight.”

Before Silver could nod, a bright flash of light filled up the room. Filthy blinked away stars to find Tempest standing right in front of him.

“Breaking and entering!” he shivered. “Or, just entering. If you had been smart, you would have chosen a better law to break on my property.”

“Mr. Rich,” Tempest said, “you don’t understand. This is vitally important.”

“If you’re going to get the whole country to forgive you, you’d better get going. There’s a lot of friendly souls out there in need of gratification.”

“Yes, I know. I know very well how many ponies are out there. I’ve counted ten thousand and twenty four so far.”

Filthy laughed in her face. “The population of Canterlot alone is nearly ten thousand. Good luck and goodnight.”

Filthy tried to go around the seething Tempest, but another flash of light brought him nose to nose with the scarred unicorn.

“You don’t understand,” she repeated. “This is deeper than you or me.”

“Get away from me.”

Tempest just pulled him closer. “Have you ever felt compelled to do something?”

“Like listen to you? No. I compel others.”

“No. Like, have you ever felt supernaturally compelled?”

The foyer fell dead silent. In the pause, the faint sound of ticking clocks could be heard from down the hall. Silver Polish looked on, frozen to the spot, unsure of whether to charge the unicorn and get zapped or do nothing and lose his job for sure.

Slowly, Filthy’s smug scowl fell into something much less haughty. “What are you talking about?”

“By my estimations, this night has lasted nearly eight days, but only for me. It won’t end until I apologize to every pony in Equestria.”

“What on earth makes you think that? Maybe you’re just crazy. That seems reasonable.”

“I wish I were. Look--can I just tell him?” she asked, turning her head to look into an empty adjacent hallway.

“Um--let’s not rule out insanity here.” No longer held in place, Filthy back away.

Tempest groaned. “Then how am I supposed to--okay okay, whatever, I’ll try.” she turned back to Filthy. “I am being compelled by something beyond the realm of understanding here.” She turned back to face nopony. “Is that vague enough for you?” A pause. “No?”

“Oookay.”

“Look. I’m being compelled by... my conscience. Yeah, conscience. I’m being compelled to forgive every pony I’ve wronged since I came to this place. It just so happens that I seem to have wronged every pony in Equestria.”

Silver Polish finally found his nerves and walked off to phone the police. Filthy stopped him before he could leave the room.

“Not so fast. Put a pot of coffee on and don’t let anyone else know of this.”

Silver nodded. “As you wish.”

Tempest asked, “So does this mean you’ll accept my apology?”

Filthy crossed the room, until he was almost nose to nose with Tempest. After a pause that seemed to stretch on for hours, he said, “So you say you’re being compelled to make amends?”

If the closeness wasn’t weird before, it was definitely giving Tempest a strange feeling now. Or maybe it was Filthy’s eyes, how they darted around the room before alighting on hers.

“Yeah,” Tempest said. “Compelled. By my conscience.”

“But not just your conscience, yes? By something else. Something with the power to turn one night into eight. And you’re not even halfway through.”

“Uh--you know what? I think I should come back some other time. Do you plan on getting drunk anytime soon? I’ll come back then. Stallions are more agreeable when they’re drunk.”

“You’ll do no such thing.” Filthy straightened his back, and for the first time Tempest realized just how imposing a stallion Filthy could be when he was onto something. “Tell me.”

“You wouldn’t understand it anyway. It’s beyond your stupid mind.”

“Don’t underestimate me, villain. You’re haunted, aren’t you?”

Tempest’s pupils shrank. With a deft slap-n-slip motion, she put some distance between herself and Filthy. While the ladder was left subbing his ears and cursing, Tempest shook out her mane and relaxed a little.

“Haunted by a guilty conscience.”

Filthy let out a long sigh and looked for a chair to sit down in. “If I accept your apology,” he said slowly, “will you leave?”

“I’ll never set foot in this stupid house again,” Tempest replied.

Filthy dragged an ornate chair over from one side of the room and plopped himself down. All the hours he should have spent sleeping were catching up with him in a hurry. “Then I forgive you.”

A moment passed. Tempest looked around. “Um--could you say it a little louder?”

“I forgive you,” Filthy belted, his voice ringing through the dimly lit hallways.

“Alright... I think that will do it. That will do it, right?”

“What are you asking me for?”

Tempest shushed him. “I wasn’t asking you.” After another moment of silence, she nodded. “Good enough. Happy Hearth’s Warming, Filthy Rich.”

As the door shut behind her, Filthy called out, “And if you ever come back, I’m suing you!”

Finally, Filthy was alone again. With no sign of Silver Polish or any of the other mansion staff, he slipped out of the chair and pushed it back to its corner.

“Did you see all that?” he asked no one in particular.

From out of the corner of his eye, a shadow moved along the wall, making its way to the floor before solidifying in the rough shape of a pony.

I did, it said in a voice as coarse and cracked as burnt charcoal.

“So, what? You can be in more than one place at once? Haunt more than one pony at once?”

Silence.

“Are you going to make me do that too? Go house to house and--” Filthy gulped, “apologize?”

Yes, it replied.

His legs grew weak. “Does she count as one?”

The ghost of Hearth’s Warming replied, Don’t be so glum. You never tried to take over the world. Your list is shorter than hers... but not by much.

Filthy wailed, a terrible sound that filled the halls of the Rich manor with despair. “But I tore up all those contracts!”

A Capper Is Fine Too (aka Capping Off the Holidays) [to nailah, from Shortskirtsandexplosions]

Capper's eyes briefly shimmered like turquoise as he glided past the spotlight—as if on ice.

"And so...!"

A charming glint of his fangs, a twitch of his whiskers, and he raised two nimble paws before the magical projection, conjuring a pair of dynamic shadow puppets against a crystalline wall.

"...Prince Stonepride of Panthera and Valkyrie Dewclaw of the Eaglescythe Guard sprinted gallantly up the carved steps of obsidian..."

A feline silhouette "ran" on all fours, accompanied by an avian figure carried aloft on shadowed wings.

"...until—at long last—they reached the Onyx Mountain Lair of the dreaded Emperor of Wyverns!"

Equine gasps lit the chilly air as a reptilian shadow appeared against the wall, undulating with serrated jaws.

"Stonepride and Dewclaw wasted no time with announcin' themselves." The feline figure reformed, swinging a curved sword. "'You scaly coward!' Stonepride shouted, his mane billowin' somethin' fierce. 'You shall answer for your slaughter of the Abyssinian catfolk!'" The avian figure took center-stage in the spotlight, brandishing a claw-shaped spear. "'And the slain Valkyries of Hawk's Rest shall be avenged!' shouted Dewclaw in the same righteous cadence."

With a flick of his tail, Capper knocked a lampshade off its perch and planted it on the shoulder of his burgundy coat. Keeping his bright eyes on the spotlight, he spoke sideways into the improvisational bullhorn. His paws recreated a draconian silhouette befitting the reverberating voice.

"'Mwaaaaaaaaahaaaarggggh! Foolish mortals!' roared the Wyvern Emperor, as melodramatic warmongerin' Wyvern Emperors were wont to do. 'Suffer in mourning for your dead friends! What I've accomplished cannot be undone!'"

Capper's paws whipped around in a blur, and suddenly the avian figure was back, jabbing with its spear.

"'Nor will anyone ever be able to unspill your entrails!' shouted Dewclaw, infused with the fury of the night. Then—with a sky-splittin' Valkyrie shriek—she pounced on the Emperor of Wyverns first. The beastly motha would've ripped her in half right then and there—hadn't the crafty and opportunistic Prince Stonepride crept around on silent catfeet and pinned the nasty Emperor's tail to the ground with his sword when he was busy lookin' at the eagle warrior. 'Your evil reign ends tonight, suckah!' shouted Stonepride... or... y'know... somethin' to that extent. This is a modern translation, ya dig? Ahem..."

Capper licked his chops, then nimbly stuck his tail into the spotlight while his paws wriggled on either side of them. This produced a remarkably convincing portrayal of two flanking figures stabbing violently into a serpentine creature's abdomen.

"Together, Stonepride and Dewclaw brought an unsavory end to the wicked Wyvern Patriarch. And—believe me, y'all—it sure as Tartarus wasn't pretty. 'Aaaaaaaaargggh! Why is it takin' so long for me to be fully eviscerated!' the Emperor of Wyverns whimpered like a little sissy baby. 'I swear! Y'all've been rippin' my intestines out one by one for at least seven whole hours now! Who even has the stamina to torture someone so hardcore?! Much less the torturee?! I'd go to the library and read up on it, except I can't read! Also I'm being disemboweled!' Which—when ya thank about it—ain't a very dignified way to die. That's more or less the reason why present-day Wyverns are nearly extinct by now. With that in their collective memory, they ain't fixin' to repopulate the Onyx Reaches anytime soon, ya feel me? So... anyways..."

At long last, the tail fell out of the spotlight like a wet corpse. The avian and feline figures "dropped" their weapons and came together in a shadowy embrace.

"The Emperor of Wyverns was no more; Stonepride and Dewclaw were victorious. After all they had lost in avengin' their respective nations, they realized they had gained somethin' far more precious—undyin' love and respect for one another. They eloped to the Humid Hills—beyond the Steam Peaks—and there they made sweet heroic love to each other from dusk 'til dawn for over a decade."

Capper ducked out of the spotlight, rolled forward, and stood back up—striking a devil-may-care pose in the center of the Friendship Castle's crystalline lobby.

"And that's how the race of griffins were born, y'all!" the Abyssinian visitor said with a wink and a whiskery smirk.

At long last, Starlight Glimmer switched off her illumination spell. As the spotlight against the wall dimmed, the overhead lights switched back on, revealing a room full of Ponvyilleans surrounded by holly, tinsel, and festive ribbons. Equines in toasty-warm winter-wear cheered and clapped their hooves against the floor of the place. The Castle resonated with mirth and applause, causing the ornaments dangling from the large Hearth's Warming Tree in the center to shake on the flouncing branches.

"Wooohooo!" Pinkie Pie pumped a hoof in the air. "Go Stonepride and Dewclaw!" She waggled her fuchsia eyebrows. "Hubba hubba!" This was followed by the mother of all giggle-snorts.

"Whew-wee!" Applejack smiled, cradling a mug of nutmeg in her sweatered fetlocks. "Talk about a real whizzbanger of a story!"

"You can say that again!" Rainbow Dash's voice cracked. She had spent the last two minutes of the story trying to sneak a shake or two of the presents beneath the tree. Now—with more than a few eyes flicking her way—she dropped the packages to the ground and hovered with her hooves dangling innocently behind her flank. "Uhhhh... I-I really liked the part when they stormed the Wyvern Emperor's lair and killed him!"

"Uhm... wasn't that the entire story, Rainbow?" Fluttershy breathed.

"Er... yes..." Rainbow Dash blushed, rubbing the back of her head as she avoided everypony's gaze. "...and... it was... awesome...?" She pretended to be interested in something across the room. "Holy crud! Fruitcake!" Swooooosh! She was gone in a blur.

"Woohooo!" Scootaloo hopped in place beside her two closest friends. "Now that's what I call a Hearth's Warming story!"

"But..." Sweetie Belle's muzzle scrunched. "...what does it have to do with Hearth's Warming?"

"Yeah, Mister Capper!" Apple Bloom took a few curious steps towards the Abyssinian guest. "I thought Twilight had asked you to give yer culture's version of a Hearth's Warming story!"

"Hmmm?" Capper looked down at the three foals, his turquoise eyeslits blinking. "Oh. Uhhhh..." He tickled a whisker or two with his claw. "Did... I... forget to mention that they was all wearin' red-and-green turtlenecks?"

Silence.

"Oh!" Scootaloo suddenly piped up, grinning. "I get it! To soak up all the blood!"

"Woohoo!"

"Cool!"

"Yes..." Twilight Sparkle trotted up towards the center of the group, putting on her best smile. "...that was certainly a very... ahem... zesty story..."

"Are you kidding?!" Sweetie Belle's voice cracked through a heavenly new octave as she performed a giddy leap. "It was downright ziggurat!"

"Yer a dictionary, not a thesaurus," Apple Bloom droned at her.

"Still..." Scootaloo smirked devilishly. "...it sure as heck beats the same old boring re-read of A Hearth's Warming Tale that Twilight makes us listen to every year!"

"Mmmff-hrmmmmf!" Rainbow Dash whizzed by, her muzzle full of fruitcake. "Yuff damff riffgh, squirff!"

Gathered ponies laughed and slapped the ground uproariously.

Twilight Sparkle glanced towards the ceiling, jaw clenched tight. "Mrmmmm..."

"Well, the Great and Powerful Trixie gives it four Shiny Sorceress Hats out of five!" Trixie stated, trotting up. "Although I'm surprised Twilight let you tell it."

"And why's that?" Capper asked, one cat ear twitching curiously.

"Well..." Trixie tossed her mane, eyes closing shut. "Per usual the Princess of Predictability expects all stories told on Hearth's Warming Eve to have a 'very special moral' or 'friendship lesson' that's supposed to stick in one's fuzzy head foreverafter."

"Ain't it obvious?" Capper shrugged with casual swagger. "The lesson is to find yerself a friend whom you can crush on so hard y'all give birth to an entirely new civilization!"

"Ha-Ha-Ha!" Starlight leaned in, gesturing with her hoof. "Okaaaaaay! Hey, kiddies! How about that gift exchange, huh?"

Like clockwork, the foals scampered off, joining a gathering crowd of ponies at the base of the enormous tree.

"In the meantime," Starlight continued. "Spike should be coming back with a fresh batch of his enormously popular Surprise Gem Cookies! So everypony prepare to dig in! There's plenty of milk at the refreshment table too!" She turned to see Trixie smiling prolongedly at her. Starlight did a double-take, then slowly... awkwardly pushed Trixie away. Keeping a lingering gaze on the grinning showmare, Starlight trotted over towards Capper. Now that story time had completely ended, the ponies attending the party had spread apart into various talkative gaggles while a distant record player filled the room with ambient holiday muzak. "Sooooooo... Capper..."

"Yuh huh..." Capper's attention turned to a dangling bit of tinsel hanging from the edge of a crystalline staircase overhead.

"I have to say..." Starlight Glimmer smiled. "...it's really nice having you visit. I heard so much about what you did to help Twilight and my other friends during the Storm King's visit."

"Mmmhmmm..." Capper's eyeslits narrowed as he raised a claw and batted repeatedly at the tinsel. "Dayum straight."

"After all, they mean so much to me..." Starlight fidgeted slightly where she stood, pawing the ground with a briefly melancholic expression. "...and sometimes I lie awake at night, wondering how horrible my life would be if anything truly horrible happened to them."

"Truly... horrible..." Capper licked his whiskers as he slapped and pawed the dangling material harder. "Got it."

Starlight blinked at him. "... ... ...are you having fun, Capper?"

"Hmm? What?" He looked down at the little pastel unicorn. "Oh! Uh... sure thing, Twilight."

"It's Starlight."

"Thing is, Sunlight..." Capper rubbed the back of his neck while his ears folded back pensively. "I was kinda hopin' I might... y'know... run into a certain somepony..." His turquoise eyes swept the festive scene as he let loose a lethargic sigh. "...but I guess somethin' so traditionally plebeian ain't exactly befittin' her style of refined elegance."

"Who?" Starlight cocked her head aside. "You mean Rarity?"

Capper recoiled slightly, grasping at the air with both paws. "Who said a peep 'bout Rarity?! I ain't—"

Starlight giggled. "It's okay, Capper. Honestly, I was expecting her to be here too. But... unfortunately... she's going to be detained for a while."

His whiskers twitched. "Oh yeah?"

"She explained it to us all a week before you arrived here." Starlight waved a hoof. "Something to do with having to play 'hostess' to a bunch of visiting relatives."

"No kiddin'?"

"Yes. You see, in Equestrian culture, family oftentimes comes before friends. So—while we're all sad that she can't be with us until later—we all understand that she's got prior commitments to deal with."

"Uh huh..." Capper rocked back and forth on his lower paw pads. "Jusssssssst... for how long, ya suppose?"

Starlight shrugged. "She made it sound like she won't be able to show up until the last hour of Twilight's Hearth's Warming Eve party." Her eyes narrowed. "Why? Did you need to see her for something?"

"Oh..." The feline gentlecat threw a nervous glance towards the far end of the room—where a dapper top hat lay on a lush easy-chair, next to a neatly-folded cape. "...no reason."

"Well..." Starlight Glimmer looked all around, then leaned towards the feline guest. "There's no rule in Equestrian tradition that says you can't poke your head in and say a friendly 'hello'."

Just like that, Capper's fuzzy ears immediately perked up. "Whoah—for reals?"

"Yeah! Around here, it's called 'wassailing.'" Starlight giggled. "Just be sure to bring a mug of cider and prepare to sing a lot. It'll make for a good excuse."

"Just like that, huh?"

"Yeah! You can find Rarity's party at her place: Carousel Boutique. It's a big round glitzy building on the east end of town. You can't miss it. And... between you and me..." Starlight winked. "...I think Rarity will be absolutely relieved to see a friendly face right about now."

Capper's tail flicked and flicked some more. "Well...!" He practically cartwheeled across the lobby, yanked a tankard from a berry-coated mare's forelimbs, and skidded nimbly towards the easy-chair. "...it's been a lovely Hump's Whimpering Eve, y'all!" With a twirl of his tail, he slapped his top hat on and whipped his cape over his figure twice as quickly. "But I've got some Whoopassin' to do!"

"Wassailing!" Starlight corrected.

"That too!" Capper bowed low, careful not to spill the contents of the tankard. "Thanks a million, Spermlight! I'll be sure to tell the Fair Lady Rarity that ya sent me!" And with a flicker of sandstone fur, he vanished out the front Castle Gates and into wintry night.

"Hoooooooo boy..." Starlight nervously waved after his shadow, teeth showing beneath a crooked grin. "...won't she be grateful."

At that precise moment, Twilight Sparkle trotted boldly out into the center of the room, levitating an old dusty book. "Ah-ah-ahem!" With the use of magic, she projected her voice across the festive chamber. "Come on, everypony! It's time for the most magical moment of Hearth's Warming Eve!" She smiled wide. "A traditional reading of A Hearth's Warming Tale!"

The entire Castle echoed with prolonged groans.

The adorable little town of Ponyville was dusted liberally with a fine layer of powdery snow. Between flickering electric lights, smoldering chimneys, and candle-lit windows of frosted storefronts, the place couldn't possibly look any more like a Thomas Kencolt painting. Stars twinkled between gray clouds, casting a luminescent blue sheen against the ivory streets and pale avenues.

Capper strolled gallantly towards the east end, cape billowing in the nippy breeze. Snowflakes drifted past his furry face, clinging to a whisker or two. He shook them off with nary a care, smiling towards the stout rooftops belonging to tiny horses in a tiny town with tiny cares. In the distance, carolers huddled under gas lamps, singing merrily in rhythmic pony cadence. The feline stranger tipped his top hat at them in mid-stride, and he was delighted that they didn't so much as flinch at his towering appearance.

The residents of Equestria's heartland were remarkably graceful, accepting, and inviting. All of these were qualities that Capper long-assumed had vanished from the world. Such was something a life spent scraping for survival in Klugetown had thoroughly taught him. However, he was also taught how to take advantage of unexpected bouts of luck... which was what made such an occasion as this "Hearth's Warming Eve" in Ponyville a challenge. If Capper wasn't careful, he could very... very easily rob these trusting pastel horses blind.

But Capper loved a challenge. Learning to receive instead of take was damn hard. But there was a certain degree of dignity to be had in accomplishing that. One soul had taught him such... had shown him.

In very little time, he reached her doorstep. Carousel Boutique was every bit as extravagant as Starlight Glimmer had hinted at—and even more. Porcelain horse figures shimmered in the glow of the moon while brilliant warm light flickered from within the fabulous abode. Capper couldn't even remotely be disappointed. And—as he stood before the salmon threshold with his cape and top hat adorning his handsome feline figure—he hoped that she wouldn't be either.

A pensive pair of fangs bit into his bottom lip as he took his hat off and reached inside with a slightly shaky paw. Unfolding a stealthy "pocket" that he had sewn into the innermost hollow of the article, he produced a tiny present wrapped in shiny blue paper with a matching sapphire blue. Just like her eyes.

If it didn't dazzle her—or the contents therein, for that matter—it would have ruined this entire trip. Capper didn't accept Twilight's invitation just for the nutmeg and fruitcake.

Steeling himself, Capper tucked the present back into its hiding place. Cradling the top hat under one arm, he reached forward with the other and knocked rhythmically on the Boutique's front door.

He stood back. He held his breath. He smiled at the entrance.

...and nothing happened.

One ear flicked. Then the other. Capper's eyes darted left and right. Coughing mildly in the snowy air, he reached forward to knock again.

That was when he heard voices. Muffled and tense. Cackling... scoffing... even belching.

There was a nervous flick to his tail. Capper's nostrils flared, as if he suddenly expected to be inhaling the sour scents and pungent aromas of Klugetown. But this was most definitely Ponyville on a wintry night... and those were most definitely pony voices he was hearing from within—garish and grumpy and grisly as they may be. It was the last thing he expected to hear coming from Rarity's domain, of all places.

He took another, closer look at the front door, fearing that maybe he had arrived at the wrong place. It was then that he discovered a doorbell—an instrument he remembered from bygone days back in the aristocratic districts of Panthera. With a nostalgic breath, he pressed the button, and a ringing noise sounded loudly through the Boutique—bombastic enough to pierce the thick layers of complaining voices blubbering within.

Less than a minute later, dainty hoofsteps briskly approached the front entrance, accompanied by an elegant voice that was tragically tainted by an undeniably vexxed tone: "Yes! YES! Just a minute... d-darlings, and I shall have that fresh batch of roasted grapenuts pr-prepared for you swiftly! Oh no no no—it's not a bother! I am... pl-pleased as platinum to make you happy this evening! J-just let me answer the d-door quickly! You never knowwww! It could be Grand Uncle Savorhoof!"

With a gust of warm air, the front door swung open, and a bleary-eyed Rarity peaked out from beneath a swath of frizzled mane hair.

"Happy Hearth's Warming," she droned, struggling to lilt her voice up by half a harmonic octave. "Please do come in—" The moment her eyes reflected a tall lanky feline, she gasped and clung to the doorframe like a helpless maiden awash at sea. "Capper!" she mewled, ears twitching. "You're not Grand Uncle Savorhoof!"

"Ha-HAH!" He laughed like a jolly manticore. "Somethin' I tell myself everyday." A wink, and he fired a paw-shaped pistol in her direction, accompanied by a whiskery click. "Tch! Care to let me crash yo crib, girl?"

For an eternally brief second, Rarity's eyes positively sparkled. Just as quickly, that heavenly shimmer faded, replaced by a pale malaise as the elegant mare coughed daintily into her forelimb and leaned into the doorframe at a sickly slant. "Capper, it is ever-so-lovely to see you, especially on Hearth's Warming Eve of all gallant occasions—"

"I know, right?!" He gestured wide, cape flaring. "I heard of holiday celebrations and all, but festivizin' it up the night before a holiday?! Man, y'all ponies have got it good!"

"Erm..." Rarity fidgeted visibly within the entrance to her Boutique. "Yes. Quite—"

"Back in Klugetown we all digged celebratin' Chinfall Day," Capper said, toying with his whiskers while his other paw playfully flipped the top hat again and again. "It marks the fateful occasion when the wicked Governor Blubbertusks was beheaded for robbing the peasantry of their life's savings two hundred years ago. But we never celebrate the Eve of Chinfall. After all, buildin' a forty-foot tall guillotine ain't as excitin' as watchin' the half-ton blade fall, y'hear?"

"Oh. That's... uhm... lovely—"

"Although, I suppose we could find a way to reenact Blubbertusks' fabled act of gorgin' himself on poisoned Bone Dry Cactus Fruit the night before his execution." Capper sported a dapper grin. "If nothin' else, it'd mark a boon for Klugetown's pharmaceutical industry, wouldn't it?"

"Capper, darling, maybe it would be best if—"

"Look, girl!" With a flash of his cape, Capper produced the blue-wrapped present and held it out before her. His fangs glinted in the Boutique's inner glow as he smiled at the tiny unicorn. "I come bearin' gifts! That's a tradition for y'all horses, ain't it?" He winked. "I promise that a bunch of even tinier horses won't come bargin' out of the package when all the soldiers are asleep and open the city gates to the invadin' army." He grimaced slightly at his own words. "Aww snap. That was a tad bit racist on my part, wasn't it?"

"You..." Rarity's lips pursed. For the briefest of moments, she was seized by the sight of the gift, by the moment, by Capper. "...you actually c-came all the way to g-give me this?"

"Sure thang, girl!" Capper hummed, holding the present in both paws now. The top hat dangled off his dancing tail as he purred, "How 'bout ya lemme wash-tail inside your foyer and you can open it while I regail ya more with tales of Blubbertusk's comeuppance! I swear, it gets even more festive after the public decapitation! Oh!" He reached deep into his cape. "I almost forgot the cider! Here ya go!" He held the tankard upside down. "Waspscaling! Apparently I'm supposed to sing too—!" His eyeslits shrank upon seeing the mug's empty contents. "Awwww Tartarus..." He looked over his shoulder. "Must've happened along the way. I hope none of y'all think I done piddled in the snow back there."

Rarity was giggling at this point. Slowly, her cheeks turned rosy, mirthful. "Oh Capper..." She brushed her bangs back, and for a moment the frizzled ends disappeared beneath her usual shimmer. "Oh Capper, darling, I would absolutely love to—"

Then, from within the Boutique, one out of many dozens of cantankerous voices rippled its way loudly in the mare's direction. "Rarityyyyy! Where are those grapenuts?! Honestly, didn't Cookie Crumbles raise you better?"

And just like that, the wind blew out of Rarity's sails, and it did so through a muddled growl. "She most certainly did." With deft poise, Rarity channeled a sufficient amount of harmony into her next sing-songy statement. "They're coming riiiight upppp! Just as I promised!"

"Uhhhh..." Capper blinked, cradling the present to his chest. "...who dat?"

"Oh... uhm..." Rarity rubbed her forehead... and rubbed and rubbed it some more. "I have been... graciously tasked with preparing a traditional Hearth's Warming Eve party for my parents' siblings... and their friends... and their friends' co-workers... and their friends' co-workers' friends..." Rarity's explanation slipped through increasingly gritting teeth upon each layer of information. "As an elegant hostess, I am... mmmmm... h-happy to please, of course."

"So I heard." Capper nodded. "Maglite Rimmer told me back at the castle. But..." He raised an eyebrow. "Why ain't yo folks doin' the hostessin'?"

"Oh, they would, but... alas..." Rarity put on a tired smile. "They're on a cruise vacation right now." Her tired smile was swiftly replaced by a tired frown. "Their fifth cruise in a row this year..." Another breath, and the frown switched places with the smile yet again. "So, the responsibility fell on me! Which is fine! Totally fine!" Her grin twitched ever-so-slightly. "Far be it from the proprietor of Rarity's Chic Boutique to turn away familial acquaintances on Hearth's Warming Eve of all nights! After all..." She tossed her mane, creating a lasting sparkle in the snow-frosted night. "...I do have a reputation to maintain! And many of these ponies are Canterlot citizens, so—"

"Sure, all that's good and fine..." Capper's eyes narrowed on her. "But did ya have a choice?"

In answer to that, Rarity could only bite her lip to keep it from quivering.

Not long after...

"Rarityyyyy! You're being very ruuuuuude!"

Rarity winced. Hard. She threw a melodic phrase over her shoulder: "Perish the thought!" Looking back at Capper, she sighed, then reached forward to push the tiny present in his paws closer to his furry chest. "Capper, darling, keep it."

He practically gasped. "But Rarity—!"

"For now, I mean!" She smiled nervously, all the while backtrotting icily into her home. "After all, there is nothing more in life that I appreciate than gift-giving. All the more reason for the moment of gift-giving to be as close to perfect as possible! I promise, the moment I'm through with this familial gathering, I'll make my way swiftly over to Twilight's Castle party and I'll open your present in a far more appropriate place and setting."

"Ya sure about that? I ain't fixin' to make thangs inconvenient—"

"Nothing inconvenient about it! I love enjoying a full rich evening!" She winked awkwardly. "I'll be there by nine o'clock! I promise!"

"Rarity, girl..." Capper gestured. "It was nine o'clock one whole hour ago!"

Rarity gasped. "What?!" She flung a frazzled look inside the Boutique. "But... that's impossible!"

"Sure ain't!" Capper gestured across town. "Unless y'all's clock tower is monitored by a blind turtle!"

"So much time has flown by..." Rarity stifled a whimper. "I thought I told them—"

"Rarityyyyy!" another voice belched.

"Sorry! Coming! I just... mrmmm..." Squeaking inwardly, Rarity shuffled backwards, shutting the door slowly with her telekinesis. "I'll find a way, Capper. Someway... somehow... I-I'll join you before Twilight's party ends."

"Well..." Capper shifted awkwardly where he stood. "A'ight."

Thud! The door shut. Rarity vanished, returning to the muffled ruckus and bedlam and inebriated laughter.

"... ... ..." Capper lingered at the entrance to the Boutique. He took a look at the tiny blue-wrapped present in his paw. Lastly, after a whispy sigh, he stuck the gift back into his top hat and made to walk back to the castle across town. He hesitated—however—then chose to stealthily move in the opposite direction. Soon he was crawling along the outward exterior of the Boutique. He did this until he came upon a set of windows looking into the toastily-lit inside of the building. Already, through his peripheral, he could make out over two dozen pastel-colored bodies huddled about—mincing, gossiping, and cackling over half-spilled mugs of nutmeg. Capper took a wary glance at the the adjacent snow-filled street. Once he was convinced no wayward carolers looking his way, he stretched his tail up and used it to crack the window open ever so slightly. Feeling a gust of warm air, he pricked his feline ears towards the event, listening in on the gargling company that had so entrapped his fabulous friend.

"There you are at last, Rarity!" a snobbish unicorn dressed in a sharp-angled dress tilted up her sharp-angled nose. She wore a red wooly scarf bespeckled with gold-threaded reindeer and none of them cantering. "Honestly! So slow on the upkeep! It's in Hondo's genes! I swear, Cookie Crumbles was always the quick-witted one!"

"I-I'll have those roasted grapenuts out in a second, darling," Rarity stammered, stumbling past a group of garishly-dressed noponies lounging on a couch. She nevertheless smiled at them. "Are you folks enjoying Sweetie Belle's holiday cookies? She made them this morning especially for this occasion!"

"Eh... not really, no," muttered a stallion.

"If you ask me, the kid should just stick to being an electrician," grumbled another. "That's what her cutie mark is, right? A lightning bolt?"

"Naaaah..." A gum-chewing blonde thing shook her head, splayed out besides a phalanx of half-empty nutmeg chalices. "You're thinking of the lame little pegasus they've got rolling around the streets of this boring town on that stupid lil' tricycle of hers. My parents almost run her over in the stagecoach every year when we visit. One of these days, I really hope they don't miss."

"Ha ha ha! Hey, that reminds me!" A rotund stallion belched, bumping occasionally into a record player and causing the track of Buck the Halls to skip repeatedly. "You wanna talk about dumb pegasi? I read in the paper the other day that Las Pegasus is destined to be named one of them stupid Sanctuary Clouds!"

"Eeeeeeugh!" A mare in a tacky sweater rolled her eyes. "Just what Equestria needs! More hideouts for those bit-grabbing migratory griffins!"

"They're the reason for all the wars we've ever had, y'know!" rasped a wrinkly old thing trying to spoon himself a bowl of pudding—only to baptize the silken tablecloth instead. He stabbed the serving plate over and over again, spitting between each pronounced consonant. "Them and the bleeding-heart senators twisting Celestia's constitutional promises to appease the snowflakes up in Canterlot! Mehhhh. Y'know, I really miss the Princess who used to banish ponies to the moon. Hah! Now there's a monarch who used to have a brain!"

"Finally!" A mare laughed, unwrapping a box, holding up a package of socks, and then tossing them disdainfully over her head. "Somepony who says it like it is! I knew you were Hondo's old mentor for a reason!"

"Actually, I'm Cookie Crumbles' neighbor's friend's co-worker's assistant substitute teacher."

"Whatever."

At this point, Rarity came stumbling out of the kitchen, telekinetically heaving an enormous tray full of grainy treats. "Here comes the grapenuts, everyponyyyyy!"

"Frickin' finally," snorted someone fumbling with an ornament, inadvertently cracking it in half. "For realsies, does anypony have any sense of punctuality in this grubby farmer's town?"

A fat acne-riddled creature waddled up, trotting in pace with Rarity towards' the snack table. "Hey! Raritits!"

Rarity weathered a heavy sigh in mid-carry. "Well, that's close enough, I suppose."

The teenager continued: "You wanna help me sign my petition?"

"What petition is that, darling?"

"Me and a hundred thousand other fanponies across Equestria are writing a strongly-worded letter to A.K. Yearling, demanding that she remove her latest novel Daring Do and the Phantom Torso from literary canon!"

"Really, now?" Rarity awkwardly navigated a forest of wheezing, yawning, surly bodies to reach her destination. "Whatever for?"

The young stallion adjusted his spectacles in violent indignation. "Isn't it obvious?! Phantom Torso is nothing but a Social Justice Whinnier's wet dream! It's ruining the Daring Do franchise with unnecessary feminist pretense!"

"Well, I can't imagine why that would be," Rarity said, her harmonic tone slowly decaying along with the telekinetic descent of the grapenuts to the pudding-stained table. "After all, A.K. Yearling is only a female... writing a female protagonist..." She added the last bit under her breath. "...based on real-life events."

There was a nasal retort: "Are you trying to make fun of me?"

"What? OH! Uhm... n-not at all, darling!"

"Because you'd better not be! I know what it means to be oppressed!"

"How terribly tragic. Here—have yourself a scoop of grapenuts and go sit over by the fire where you'll be... less oppressed, my dear."

As Rarity made her way across the sea of impatient patrons, a middle-aged mare in a slinky gown smiled drunkenly from her half-raised chalice of questionable beverage. "I absolutely love what you've done with the place—hic—Rarity."

"Oh, why thank you!" Rarity returned with a momentary voice of harmony.

"Mmmm...Hic! Quite..." The mare rotated the glass in her hooves. "All of the Hearth's Warming garland and shiny tinsel? It's a vast improvement over the positively boorish collection of drab 'dresses' that is usually filling this place."

Rarity's shoulders shook. Nevertheless, with a flick of her tail, she sighed on through the impermeable wall and went about her homely duties. "Duly noted..."

"Cookie Crumbles loves to brag and brag about your accomplishments in fashion. Such a typically predictable 'mother' thing to do. But..." The mare took a deep sip. "Hic! From what I've seen? If you want my advice, honey, just stick to crochet. It'll at least earn you a bit or two in the local flea market of this puny little town. In the meantime, you can make an honest living doing something more practically-suited to your talents."

"Like roasting grape nuts!"

"HIC! Exactly!"

"Hahahahaha!"

"Heeheehee..."

"Heh heh heh heh... burp!"

Slowly—with the same prehensile tail that he had used to open it—Capper closed the window from the snowy outside. His nostrils flared.

He had seen enough.

Scratching his chin with a lone claw, he turned and looked all around the nearby street corner. His eyes reflected a lamppost, a fire hydrant, and finally a set of shiny aluminum garbage cans. He beamed suddenly, then scampered across the sidewalk on all fours.

Sliding to a stop across the frosted concrete, Capper plucked the lid off one garbage can and then kicked the thing over. Trash spilled messily across the snow-patched lawn of an apartment building while he yanked the can up and shook it all over. He took his top hat off, then proceeded to punch and pummel the center of the aluminum garbage can lid. After half-a-minute, it successfully dented to form a conical shape, almost like a rice hat. Plopping this on his head, he then fished through the garbage until he found a whole carrot and some loose string. Last but not least, Capper threw off his cape, turned his burgundy jacket inside out, then rolled back and forth across the snow until the article was sufficiently covered in white powdery frost. Nearly complete with his "preparations," he smirked in the direction of the Boutique with a sinister glint of purpose in his turquoise eyeslits...

"And so..." Stifling a burp, a stallion munched on a tiny bowl of grapenuts while gesturing at the mare seated in the warm Boutique across from him. "...my rebuttal is this: Why so hung-up on foalcon, everypony? After all, Clover the Clever was age fourteen when she got pregnant! You don't see us vilifying Starswirl the Bearded!"

"That's right!" the mare gasped, then shook her head. "Wow, the media today is soooo biased."

"Damn straight." He took a sip of nutmeg, swallowed, and bore a bore a milky smile. "By the way, I love how that skirt shows off your plot, bae."

"Heeheehee..." She twirled a pigtail. "Thanks, cousin."

The doorbell rang.

"Oooh!" Rarity stood up from cleaning a fresh stain on the tile floor and scooted towards the front entrance. "I had better get that!"

"Yeah!" another distant acquaintance sounded off. "It could finally be Grand Uncle Savorhoof!"

"Assuming he hasn't croaked in that Old Horse home!"

"Hahahaha!"

"Heheheheh..." Rarity wheezed through gritting teeth. "Yes, quite." She reached the door and opened it. "Hello and how may I please help—?"

"OH YEAH!!!" Capper burst through the door in a flash of aluminum. "HAPPY HEARTH'S WARMING MAH PUSSIES!!!" He skidded to a stop on grating claws, wearing a conical hat that matched the pale shimmer of his snow-speckled coat. A fanged smile glistened beneath a carrot-nose strung up to his whiskery face with twine. CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! He rhythmically slapped the top of a hollow garbage can several times. "Who's ready for tonight's entertainment, y'all?!"

"Wha—?!" Rarity did a double-take, her ears drooping as her pupils shrank to penpricks. "Capper—?! Why in Celestia's name—?!"

"Buck the halls with boughs of horse junkkk!!!" Capper marched through the cornucopia of bright-eyed-and-blinking equines, banging on his makeshift drum the entire time and littering snowflakes everywhere. "F'naaaa-la-la-la-laaaaaaaaaa!" His ears twitched from underneath the conical metal hat, and he hissed aside. "That's how the song goes, right? Hah! Forgive the bumps, y'all! I ain't workin' off no lyric sheet! This here's real street magic in the makin'! WOO! Better recognize!"

Rarity's muzzle dropped lower and lower. Her gaze danced incredulously off the shuffling bodies of murmuring and confused guests.

"Uhhhhhh..." An acne-riddled teenager waddled up to Capper and tapped his frosted shoulder. "Who in the heck are you?"

Capper flashed him a flabbergasted look. "What, did yo momma poop you out just yesterday? I'm the Frosty the Snowcat, yo!"

"Pfffft!" The young stallion smiled through dirty braces. "Nopony's ever heard of Frosty the Snowcat!"

"Says you!" Capper booped him so hard his glasses fell to the ground with an audible shatter. "Pop culture! Learn some, foo!" CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! "Jingle my bells! Jingle my bells! Jingle me all the waaaaaaaay!" He pirouetted until he leaned suavely against a middle-aged mare in a slinky dress. "'Ey girl." A wink and a grin. "Love the dress. How many buffalo did ya kill to skin it?"

"Hmmmf! Why, I never!"

"Hey, if I was a bison that done got killed by you, I'd never fess up either!" CLANG! CLANG! "DON'T ASK DON'T TELL! SO JINGLE MY BELLLLS!"

"Now look here, young... young thing!" A wrinkly stallion marched up to the gentlecat, pointing and frowning. "There must be some mistake."

"Mistake?" Capper raised an eyebrow. "Yo, am I blind or ain't this 1600 Ponyvania Avenue?"

"What—no! No it isn't even remotely!"

Capper's left ear twitched. Then his right. "Pffft. Screw it." He marched over before a crackling fireplace and struck a pose. "Somepony done ordered some entertainment, and I sure as Tartarus ain't gonna give up on some well-earned bits!"

"You stupid freak!" a blonde thing spat. "We don't wanna be entertained!"

"That's what they all say at first." He winked, twirled the garbage can upside down, then slapped it against the tile. "Now, check it." He grabbed a pair of spoons from two yelping patrons, shook the pudding off, and squatted before the "instrument." "I'm gonna do this Manehattan subway style. So y'all are gonna have to fill in the lack of harmony with heavy cussin', pedestrian jeers, and wayward flatulence. I suspect it won't come all that hard."

"You've gotta be kidding—"

"Dun be shy, everypony! Frosty the Snowcat knows how to get this party bumpin'!" He waved his snow-riddled sleeves, grinning wide. "Just need to get into the holiday spirit! And I know the right beat, too!" He cracked his neck joints while staring intently at the top of the garbage can drum. "It's this hype song I picked up from this swell bunch of griffin migrants I ran into while serenadin' in Las Pegasus! Them feathery folks say drummin' it kept them in real good spirits while they was rowin' 'cross the Marediterranean!"

A cold collective shudder ran pale through the entire group.

"Now that I think about it, there's an accompanyin' chant that goes with the beat! First I gotsta uvulate a bit before I can copy that sorta melodic thang!" He then proceeded to cough and wheeze and hack like the mother of all furballs was crawling up his esophagus. "Hckkkt! Hrkkkkkk! Hraaaaaaaaauckhuuuutkkkkk!"

The grimaces of the gathered guests increased like sedimentary iron deposits across a fuzzy seabed. They huddled closer and closer together, shivering in one accord—flinching with each hacking cough that spat out of Frosty the Snowcat's drooling maw.

"Hrakkkkkt! Shrknkkkkt! Ynnnnnahluuuuuutrrrrr!" Capper grasped his throat with a paw, stifled an inward hiss, then squinted at the cowering crowd. "Yo, Frosty's been places. Might've caught more than his fair share of the feline flu, ya feel me? The sweat swimmin' crotch crawl, if ya catch Frosty's snowdrifts. HRKKKKK! It's from all them arctic voyages across the proverbial Hearth's Warming Ocean of gift-givin'. Some gifts were received more than a few others, heheheh. Good thang it ain't contagious to ponies." He turned to lean over and grin mere inches from a whimpering mare's face. "At least... not from any of the reports I've heard of, and Frosty dun read the medical journals." He breathed against her nose. "Love your mane, girl. Very... chemical."

"Oh my sweet Celestia..." She sobbed, teetering backwards.

"WHOAH DAYUM!" Capper spontaneously frog-leapt over the garbage can, making everypony hop backwards at once. He landed upright before the refreshment table, arms spread towards the enormous tray full of roasted grapenuts. "You've gotta be spayin' me! Finally! Y'all have any idea how long I've been holdin' it in?!" He picked the dessert tray up and planted it down onto the tile floor with a grunt. "I never thought I'd be seein' one of these in this crib of all places! Praise the cat gods, yo!"

That said, he proceeded to step into the miniature pool of grape nuts, liberally squishing the viscous pudding baked beneath the outer layer of edible granules. After turning around three whole times, he had himself a little squat.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh..." A cheeky grin formed beneath his carrot nose. "Y'all might wanna clear off a bit." There was silence as everypony stared blankly at him. "Uhm... hello...?" He lifted his tail. Straight for the ceiling. "None of y'all ever seen a litter box before?"

"UHHHHHM!"

"UHHHHH!"

"Okay then—!"

"Whelp—!"

One by one, the ponies grabbed their coats and purses and other horse things and made a hasty bee-line for the exit.

"Rarity..."

"Rarity, honey..."

"It's been positively lovely, dear!"

"B-best Hearth's Warming party we ever had!"

"Our love to Hondo and Cookie for such a lovely night and hostess..."

"But... uhm..."

"Erm..."

"I-I think we're wanted back at the hotel!"

"Yes! And I'm late for a meeting with my co-workers!"

"And I-I gotta write that petition!"

"Err—the carolers!"

"YES! We can't miss the Hearth's Warming Carolers!"

"It's getting late, after all!"

"In any case—thanks for the drinks and your sister's fabulous cookies and..."

"Uhm..."

"Good night."

"Yes! Good night!"

"And Merry Hearth's Warming!"

"Merry Hearth's Warming!"

Dumbfounded, a thoroughly-dazed Rarity could only shake the hooves of every other distant relative and acquaintance she could scarcely manage to see while they swiftly blurred by. "Yes. Oh... it has been so very lovely, hasn't it? Happy Hearth's Warming! Don't forget your scarf—oh, well... c-come back for it sometime then, I suppose! Yes... uhm... so long! And happy tidings, my dearest... darlings..."

By now, the bodies were stampeding. Tails and manes flicked, swallowed up by wintry snowfall before—

THUD!

—the last patron was gone with a slam of the door.

All was still.

Only Capper remained. Capper... and a thoroughly mute fashionista, surrounded by the chaotic detritus of festivities left behind.

"Awwwwwwwwwww..." Capper moped, his cat ears drooping. "I didn't even get to the song!"

Rarity spun around to blink at him.

He shrugged. "'Oh Silent Neigh?'" Another shrug. "'It Came Upon a Midnight Clop?'" A third, this time accompanied by a burgeoning smirk. "'The Laughing Hippogriff and Her Dog?' Come on, girl! One of them's gotta be a legit horse hymn!"

"You..." Rarity slowly trotted across the festively-stained domain, her hoofsteps echoing against the pearlescent interior of her Boutique. "...you did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"'Eyyy now..." Capper stood up and hobbled out of the tray, shaking loose granules of grapenuts and dollops of pudding from his lower paws. "Frosty the Snowcat don't front..." He snapped the carrot nose's string and shook the garbage lid off, smiling. "...does he?"

"Capper..." Rarity fumed, frowning hard. "What you did just now wasn't very friendly whatsoever." She marched towards him on angry little diva hooves. "As a matter of fact, it was rude, crude, boorish, and downright uncouth." A very tense pause, and then her features melted like a marshmallow's. Soon she was leaning towards the bipedal cat, nuzzling her happy smile into his heavenly-soft chest fluff. "And I couldn't have asked for an even better Hearth's Warming gift."

"Heh heh heh..." He hugged her gently, giving her shoulders a slight squeeze. "Shoulda known I was gonna deliver the very moment I showed up, girl."

"Oh Capper..." She looked up at him with glossy eyes. A tender smile flickered between them. "You can most certainly 'crash my crib' any day, as t'were."

"Well..." His voice emulated her elegant pitch as he held out a furry pinkie. "As t'were." He then reached into his inside-out jacket. "I suspect there's a best Hearth's Warming gift yet to be delivered!" He pulled the blue package out into the light so that it shined almost as much as her. "Voila!"

Rarity giggled, batting her eyelashes at him. "Another trick you 'picked up in the Manehattan subway'?"

"No." He winked back. "A trick I learned from y'all ponyfolk. Generosity's a crazy thang, ain't it?"

"Mmmmm. I find myself liking it more and more every year."

"Figure we could scamper on back to Twilight's place and open it there—where you'll be among friends." He slicked back his stone blue pompadour and brandished a dashing smile. "That way the gift-givin' can be as 'close to perfect as possible.'"

"This is as close to perfect as possible, darling," Rarity said, gently taking the blue package in a field of telekinesis. She smiled rosily up at him. "And I'm already among friends."

"A'ight." He removed his jacket, fluffed the remaining snowflakes loose, and wore it normal. "Gonna give it a shake first, or...?"

"Oh please, Capper..." She climbed up onto a sofa cushion and sat on folded limbs. "A lady doesn't direspect a finely-wrapped present in such a rough manner!"

"Ah! But of course!" Capper hopped onto a chair across from her, turned around three times, and sat down with his chin propped happily in a pair of paws. "Gonna school me more on pony holiday tradition, huh?"

"Nothing of the sort!" Rarity waved a hoof. "Personally, I prefer to take my sweet time soaking in the generosity of loved ones!" Delicately, ribbon by ribbon, she undid the bow and shiny wrapping of the gift. "Although..." She smiled warmly as she took the lid to the box off. "...I seriously doubt that you'll have the faculty to undo yourself after minutes ago. Never before have I been given a gift so heartfelt or shown a gesture so sincere that—" Her eyes exploded as she saw the contents of the package and she dropped the container like an anvil to the floor below, hooves flailing. "Wah-hah-HAH-hah!!!"

Capper sat up straight, ears perked. "Buh?"

"Ew ew ew ew ew!!!" Rarity shook her head, struggling to keep her bile down her throat. "Gross! Gross!! Gross!!!"

"What?!" Capper shrugged, confused and alarmed. "What's wrong?!"

"What's wrong?!?" Rarity huffed and puffed, her face and upper neck flushed red. "It's a dead bird, Capper!" She gnashed her teeth, horn sparkling in unbridled fury. "A pathetic, poor, mottled-up, most-certifiably dead bird!"

"Hey!" Capper folded his forelimbs, frowning. "Not just any dead bird! I'll have you know that suckah put up a real fight!"

"Eeeugh..." Rarity face-hoofed as she limped off the chair and trotted in a direction away from the fallen package and its loosely-spilled contents. "Celestia spare me..."

"I batted the bastard around for three whole hours before he finally chose to give up the ghost! The lil' thang had a lotta spunk in him! So dun tell me it's 'pathetic!' Let's see you spend half a day stompin' on a mouse and then call it—Hey! Where you goin'?!"

"I just... just..." Rarity covered her lips as her muzzle suddenly turned green. Belching liquidly, she stumbled up the stairs to her Boutique's second floor. "I just—urp—need some time, Capper."

"But—"

"Please, Capper! Just... please..." And she stumbled out of view.

"Hey!" He craned his furry neck towards the opposite end of the room. "Would it help you to know that he abandoned his wife and kids before I pounced on him back in Klugetown?! Only three days old, girl! In my book, that's still counts as 'fresh!'"

Silence.

With a shrug, Capper reached down, picking up the tiny winged morsel. "Tch... man... horse bitches be crazy." That said, he took a crunching bite. Feathers leaked out between his munching fangs. "Mmmmmm..." A smile. "Zesty!"

Saving Hearth's Warming [to Foals Errand, from chillbook1]

Twilight Sparkle hummed to herself as she trotted throughout her castle, broom in hoof as she swept her floors. There was nothing quite like a good bout of spring cleaning, and, even though Winter Wrap-Up wasn’t even started yet, Twilight liked being ahead of the curve. This was the first of many pre-spring-cleaning cleanings in Friendship Castle, which was why Starlight and Spike were currently off and out of Twilight’s way. This left Twilight alone with a rare spell of quiet, allowing her to go about her cleaning with only the sound of her (noticeably off-key) singing.

There was a loud flash of light, the mark of a teleportation. Before Twilight could understand what was happening, she felt hooves grab her around the middle and the warmth of a teleportation spell swallow up. There was another loud flash, and Twilight felt herself tossed against a wall, her body folded up against itself as well as the body of another. Wherever she had been teleported to, it was pitch black and exceedingly cramped. Twilight brought a hoof to her head drearily before setting her horn alight in order to see what exactly was happening.

She was in her broom closet, so that was one question answered. Due to Twilight being folded in half like a letter, she couldn’t see who was in the broom closet with her, due to her own hind legs obscuring her vision. She grunted as she squirmed, trying to simultaneously un-pretzel herself and make sense of the situation.

“Ugh… Starlight? Is that you?” grunted Twilight. She rolled her eyes as she considered the more likely explanation. “Or is Trixie’s aim really bad?”

“Twilight Sparkle, We require your assistance.”

Twilight squeaked as she jerked her body to the side, squeezing out of her folded position and landing on the ground directly on her head. She rubbed her skull, looking up at none other than Princess Luna herself. The princess of the night was just as cramped as Twilight, perhaps even more. She was clearly concerned, and, for whatever reason, thought that this broom closet was the best way to contact Twilight.

“Luna? What’s going on? Why did you teleport us into my closet?” Twilight blinked firmly, trying unsuccessfully to turn herself upright. “You know I still take letters, right?”

“We can’t risk anypony knowing of this. Not even your faithful assistant,” said Luna. “It is of the utmost importance that we keep this issue under wraps. I presume this closet is secure? It’s not bugged, is it?”

“Bugged? Luna, this isn’t a spy movie! Nopony has bugged my house. Well, except Discord,” said Twilight. “But he has a very different idea of what ‘bugging’ means. I was getting rid of centipedes for weeks… In any case, can we please get out of here? Spike and Starlight aren’t even here right now. The castle is empty.”

“It’s not a risk we should take, Twilight Sparkle. This is a matter of national importance.”

“Which is why I think we should be holding this meeting out in the Map Room, like a normal dignitary meeting!” Twilight vanished in a flash of light, causing Luna to fall forward and smack her face against the opposing wall. The door she had been leaning against opened out into the hall, letting the back half of the Princess of the Night spill out onto the floor.

“Luna, whatever it is, I’m sure we can handle it like normal, sensible princesses,” said Twilight, helping Luna to her hooves. “So why don’t we go into the Map Room, I can brew us some tea, and we can talk about whatever is bothering you and figure out how—”

“I’ve accidentally cancelled this year’s Hearth’s Warming,” said Luna flatly.

Twilight was surely going to continue speaking, but her brain shut down after hearing Luna’s plight and took several moments to reboot. Though Luna wasn’t exactly known for jokes, Twilight was fully expecting for her to reveal that this was some sort of prank. Luna’s flat, joyless expression dashed all hopes of this being just for laughs.

“I beg your pardon?” said Twilight with a raised eyebrow.

“I believe there was mention of tea?” said Luna. Twilight nodded. “And, some brandy, if you have it. I need something to take the edge off…”

“Sorry, I’m having a really hard time understanding how you let this happen,” said Twilight, refilling Luna’s teacup (with a nice green tea, not brandy. Luna was annoyed by this fact). “And I don’t mean that I’m struggling to accept your recklessness. I feel the need to specify that. You kinda proved you’re capable of frankly monumentally stupid acts with the Tantabus situation.” She filled her own cup and took a sip. “No, I I genuinely am not able to comprehend how such a thing is even possible.”

“First of all, thank you for reminding me of how royally I screwed up with the Tantabus,” said Luna scathingly. “Glad to know that the Princess of Friendship is capable of forgiveness.”

“Forgiving does not equal forgetting.”

“Right, well, second of all, it’s all very simple,” said Luna. “Hearth’s Warming was supposed to be three weeks ago, but you, nor anypony else in Equestria, are really aware of that fact. You know it happened, and you’re aware that it’s behind you, but you can’t really recall celebrating it, can you.”

“Sure I can. The girls were all busy with family out of town, so it was just me, Spike, and Starlight,” said Twilight. “It was a pretty average Hearth’s Warming. I told some of our favorite stories, Spike and Starlight cooked, we exchanged gifts. It was a pretty standard affair.”

“What did Spike and Starlight cook?” asked Luna.

“Uh… Food?”

“Specifics, Twilight.” Luna sipped her tea, watching as the gears in Twilight’s head began turning. “Can’t think of it, can you? Nor, I’m sure, specifically what stories you told? Or the gifts you got?”

“Uh… They got me… Books?” tried Twilight.

“You live in a glorified library, Twilight. Of course they got you books,” said Luna. “But what did you get them? You can’t remember, can you?”

“I… I can’t. Why not?” Twilight clutched her head and blinked firmly. “Why can’t I remember…?”

“Because, this year, it didn’t happen. The tidbits you’re recalling are memories I’ve implanted into your brain,” explained Luna. She buried her face in her hooves, thoroughly annoyed that things were panning out the way they have so far. “I modified the Tantabus to implant false Hearth’s Warming memories into the brains of every mare, stallion, and foal in Equestria. Since I couldn’t look into the minds of everypony, I had to use very generic scenarios for false memories.”

Twilight smiled at her fellow princess in a truly terrifying manner. It was a smile that had no joy, no levity. It was the smile of someone about to be tipped over the edge and was about to lose their grip on the world.

“T-Twilight?” Luna was, understandably, taken aback by Twilight’s creepy smile. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine, Luna. It’s just that I must’ve misheard you.” Twilight closed her eyes as she spoke, emanating this pure aura of cold, emotionless intimidation, but her voice was full of a false warmness. “It sounded like you said you used the Tantabus again, but that simply can’t be true.”

“Well, it was heavily modified, but—”

“There is no way that Princess Luna, one of the oldest and wisest ponies in recorded history, created a comically-unethical, dangerously uncontrollable magical creature that nearly destroyed all of Ponyville,” said Twilight, her smile and tone both replaced with cold, dead monotones. “Then, after defeating said monstrosity, created another one, this time applying it to all of Equestria.”

“Twilight, you’re being unfair,” said Luna. “This time, it’s—”

“No, that cannot be the case. That would be monumentally stupid. Nopony is that dumb,” said Twilight. She gripped her teacup tightly in her magic, chipping the ceramic with her arcane grasp. “Tell me I’m right, Luna. Tell me that nopony, especially not one of Equestria’s diarchs, is stupid enough to make this mistake twice.”

Silence reigned supreme for several moments, during which Luna refused to make eye contact with Twilight.

“So, are you going to help me or not?”

“No. Not until you explain how you managed to skip Hearth’s Warming.”

The silence returned, somehow stronger this time.

“I overslept and didn’t lower the moon,” murmured Luna. Twilight’s eye twitched in sheer disbelief at what was happening to her.

“How did you manage that? And where was Celestia?” asked Twilight.

Luna stared at her screen, her hooves moving almost mechanically as she maneuvered her mouse and tapped at her keyboard. She had been at this all day, her attention entirely focused on what she perceived was the most important task of her milenia-long life.

“Lulu! Lulu!” Celestia stepped into the room, peering around for her sister. The room was pitch black, save for the light from the screen in the corner where Luna was huddled. Celestia rolled her eyes. She really didn’t know what she expected.

“Lulu. Luna. Luna!” Celestia got no response. Further inspection revealed that Luna couldn’t even hear her on account of the large noise-cancelling headphones that the Night Princess wore. With a roll of her eyes, Celestia lit up her horn and used her magic to flick the light switch.

“Hsssss!” Luna spun in her computer chair, blocking her eyes with her wing. Several coffee cups and energy drink cans clattered to the floor, knocked over by Luna’s wing “What?!”

“Nice to see you, too,” remarked Celestia, removing Luna’s headphones with her magic. “How long have you been up?

“Well, that depends,” said Luna. “What day is it?”

“Friday.”

“Uh… Which Friday?”

“Lords and Ladies, Luna! This isn’t good for you. You need sleep.” Celestia shook her head firmly. She was getting off-track. “In any case, I thought you might want to know that I’m preparing to leave for Hearth’s Warming weekend, like we discussed last week.”

“Uh-huh.” Luna turned back to her computer, clicking furiously. “Damned noobs… Why the hell don’t we have a healer…?”

“Yes, well, you won’t be able to reach me, as I’ll be quite busy.”

“Quite busy shoving your tongue down Discord’s throat.”

“That’s none of your business, and also beside the point.” Celestia blushed faintly, but carried on nonetheless. “In any case, you’ll be on your own until I get back. If you need any help, you can visit Twilight. She never really has anything to do ever since that map started cherry-picking which of the girls get to go on adventures. Poor girl. Her friends get to go on a quest every other week, whereas she barely gets out of the house these days…”

“Yeah, yeah, Twilight’s a loner, whatever.” Luna grunted at the screen. “Really? That’s your pick? Guess who just got reported for throwing…”

“As I was saying… Your responsibilities are vast,” said Celestia. “You must raise the moon.”

“Duh. Kinda got that down.”

“And the sun.”

“If you can do it, it can’t be that hard.”

“Handle the Day and Night Courts,” Celestia continued.

“Yeah… Don’t you have people for that? A Crow or an Eagle?” asked Luna, still not gracing her sister with eye contact. “Maybe an albatross? Definitely a bird of some kind.”

“Her name is Raven, and she can only do so much. She’s an advisor, she needs somepony to advise.” Celestia tilted her head suspiciously. “I feel like you’re not taking this seriously…”

“Raise sun, raise moon, appease the nobles twice daily, got it,” said Luna dismissively. “You can go now. Don’t keep your icky boyfriend waiting.”

“You are over a thousand years old, Luna. You are no longer allowed to describe anything as ‘icky’.”

“Fine. Your yucky boyfriend.” Luna smirked and punched the sky. “Hell yeah! Get rekt, losers!”

“Alright… I trust you… But, I would be remiss if I did not stress this, you cannot deviate from the schedule,” said Celestia forebodingly. “Even a single minute more of night than there should be could cause ripple effects down the line that cause Nightmare Night to happen in July.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean it, Luna. I know how you get. You put it off and procrastinate until you’re right at the deadline, then you half-ass your way through whatever you’re supposed to be doing.” Celestia was starting to second-guess her vacation… But no, she couldn’t. Discord would be annoyed with her. Last time she flaked on their date, she woke up with her bedroom full of banana custard.

“I’ve got it, Celestia. Go have fun,” sighed Luna. “I promise you, nothing will go wrong.”

“Okay. I trust you. Just as long as you wake up early enough to deal with the sun.” Celestia turned for the door. “Bye, Lulu.”

“Bye, Tia. See you soon.”

“Promise me you’ll get some sleep?” begged Celestia. Luna turned in her chair, locking eyes with her sister for the first time, and smirked.

“I promise you I’ll get some sleep.”

“Well, long story short, I didn’t get any sleep,” said Luna. “I was playing video games until noon the next day, at which point my caffeine high wore off, I crashed hard and slept for three days straight. When I woke up, the entire week’s schedule was thrown off.”

“So, instead of solving your problem, you just wiped everypony’s memory?” asked Twilight.

“Technically, that is solving my problem. It just so happened to create a larger, more consequential problem.”

“Such as?”

“Do you recall why we celebrate this holiday?” asked Luna.

“It’s a festival to show unity among the races. To promote friendship,” said Twilight. “We exchange gifts to one another as a sign of Equestria’s undying harmony.”

“And why do we bother with that?”

“Because a couple hundred years or so ago, the three tribes were warring over food and territory and whatnot. This marked the end of that conflict.”

“Yes, but do you recall why the conflict suddenly came to an end?”

“Uh… The leaders of the tribes got caught in a blizzard with their advisers,” said Twilight, trying to recall. “They fought over basically nothing, went at each other’s throats, and froze over because…”

There was a sudden crash as one of Twilight’s windows shattered. A frigid breeze blew through, bringing with it the ethereal image of a horse, galloping through the air. It flew throughout the room, freezing everything it came in contact with and letting out a ghostly whinny as it went. Luna fired a bright beam of cerulean light from her horn, obliterating the ghost-horse into a puff of smoke and frost.

“Oh. Right,” said Twilight. “Windigos. No Hearth’s Warming means the windigos are back.” Twilight’s eyes went wide. “Why didn’t you come get me sooner?! They could’ve destroyed half of Equestria by now!”

“Yeah, where the hell do you think I’ve been?” asked Luna.

“Putzing around and playing video games!”

Luna opened her mouth to argue, but closed it when she realized Twilight actually had a good point.

“Okay, well, this time, I wasn’t. I was fighting them off. They fell back to regroup, and I fear I won’t be able to defeat them alone,” said Luna. “Which is why I sought aid from the strongest alicorn I know.”

Despite everything that occured, Twilight beamed at the praise. Anything that validated her princesshood was welcome, and Luna was the Princess of the Night, after all. A mare who had beaten Celestia in a bout of magic and made a legitimate claim for the Equestrian throne. If Luna said somepony was powerful, then they were not to be trifled with.

“Unfortunately,” Luna continued. “Celestia is still with Discord in Lord only knows what dimension, so I’m afraid you’ll have to do.”

Twilight’s smile somewhere on the floor next to the glass from her shattered window.

“Fine. I’ll help. What’s the plan?” asked Twilight.

“Those windigos want Hearth’s Warming.” Luna cracked her neck threateningly, charging her horn with magic. “I say, let’s give them a Hearth’s Warming they shan’t soon forget.”

“This was a terrible idea,” said Twilight, adjusting the fake nose pasted to her face. The nose was red, as if to match the constant embarrassed blush glowing off of her face as she flew through the sky. “If I had all day, I couldn’t list everything wrong with this plan.”

“I assure you, it’s working,” promised Luna. ‘You’re just going to have to trust me.” Luna snapped the reins that was attached to the bit in Twilight’s mouth. “Now shush. Reindeer don’t talk.”

Twilight growled but said nothing as she pulled the magical sleigh. She glanced back at her fellow princess. Luna was smirking as she looked down over Equestria, apparently quite amused by the way things had progressed. She was wearing a red coat with a big, black belt with a gold buckle and a huge white beard. Beside her on her sleigh was a large sack of presents, which she had been teleporting into the houses that Twilight had flown her over. The sack was formerly bulging with gifts, but the two had been flying across Equestria and delivering presents for a few hours now, and they were nearly finished.

Predictably, as Luna was playing the part of Santa Claus, Twilight was playing the part of the reindeer. She flew the enchanted sleigh as Luna had instructed her to, and she even wore the accompanying antlers and glowing red nose (Luna assured her it was necessary to guide them through the night, ignoring that fact that it was 2:30 PM), but she did none of these things happily. She just wanted it done with.

“Explain to me how this is supposed to deal with the windigo problem,” said Twilight. “Because, from where I’m standing, it looks like you set this up just to laugh at my expense.”

“Of course not! Laughing at your expense is a happy side-effect,” said Luna with a grin. “No, this is to spread joy and harmony throughout Equestria. This will force the windigos away and to the area with the highest concentration of negativity.”

“Last house coming up.” Luna teleported the last of the presents into the house, much to Twilight’s relief. “Okay. So, the area with the highest negativity concentration. Where is that?”

“Well, it could be anywhere. Despite how prosperous the nation is, there’s plenty of sufficiently sucky locations that the windigos could go to,” said Luna. She tugged on the reins, steering Twilight to the east. “But that’s okay, because we’re going to force them into a very specific location. Start landing in about three kilometers.”

Twilight wasn’t sure what Luna was intending to do, and she also didn’t especially care anymore. She just wanted to clean up this mess so she could go back to her pre-spring-cleaning cleaning. She flew in the direction that Luna had steered her, starting her descent after what appeared to be about three kilometers. It was a clearing, just outside a nearby forest, quite a bit away from the nearby city they had just departed. Twilight came down for a landing, a bit clumsily thanks to the added payload of Luna and her sleigh.

“Not bad. Flying was great, but I’m afraid I have to dock you points on your landing,” said Luna, stepping off of the sleigh. “Overall, I rate your performance as ‘satisfactory’.”

“Why are we here?” huffed Twilight. She pulled the bit out out of her mouth and tossed the reins to the ground. “And can we please hurry this up? I’m tired. I just want to go home and clean.”

“We’re here for this!” Luna lit up her horn and fired a beam of navy light at the ground. The air shimmered for a bit, before a box materialized from nothing. It was rectangular, with several knobs and dials on its sides. Its face was a hazard striped plate that appeared to be able to open like a trapdoor.

“It’s a box,” noted Twilight.

“It’s a trap!” said Luna with a mad grin. “And we’re gonna trap us some ghosts.”

“What?”

“Well, windigos aren’t technically ghosts, so I had to retrofit this one to work on them, but they should do the job.” Luna nudged the box with her hoof, using her magic to adjust the dials. “Yes, this should do nicely. So, now all we have to do is get the windigos here.”

“And how in the wide, wide world of Equestria are we going to do that?” asked Twilight.

“The same way you get most things done: with the help of somepony stronger than you.” Luna smirked at Twilight’s snarl. At this rate, it should be easy to get the windigos where she needed them.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying, you’ve never actually done anything of note on your own. You’ve always had your friends to help you.”

“Um, I fixed Starswirl’s spell by myself?” Twilight pointed out. “And I’ve got the wings to prove it.”

“Yeah, you earned your wings by solving a problem that you created,” said Luna. “And you had the gall to call me irresponsible. If you’re any indication, we should give Starlight Glimmer some wings, herself. She started a time loop that would’ve doomed Equestria, but she fixed it. Or that travelling magician, who made everypony hate her before going on that forgiveness tour.”

“Do not compare me to Trixie.” Twilight was normally very calm and level-headed, but certain things had a knack for getting under her skin. The very mention of her “rival” was one of those things.

“You’re right, it’s rude of me,” said Luna. Her eyes lit up with a mischievous glint. “It’s a disservice to Miss Lulamoon.”

Twilight didn’t respond at first, her eye twitching in righteous fury. She was bubbling with anger, but managed to keep a lid on her wrath. Unfortunately for her, Luna didn’t see fit to stop poking the proverbial hornet’s nest just yet.

“At least Trixie Lulamoon was brave enough to actually fight off her enemies,” noted Luna. “Some ponies might describe the act of befriending all who oppose her as the method of a coward.”

“Or perhaps I’m just a pacifist that doesn’t believe in obliterating anything that disagrees with me!”

“But, even you must admit, this is hardly your only act of cowardice. You can’t claim yourself to be a brave defender of Equestria when you fear quesadillas.” Twilight’s face was glowing red by this paint, the steam from her ears almost visible. “Seriously, what’s the deal with that?”

“It was a traumatic childhood incident from Magic Kindergarten that I do not feel like divulging at this time,” said Twilight through her teeth. “Anything else you want to say, Luna?”

“Just that you’re short.”

And, with that, Twilight exploded.

“SHORT?! I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW, I’M THE TALLEST OUT OF ALL OF MY FRIENDS! I’M ALMOST AS TALL AS YOU! HOW DARE YOU TALK TO ME LIKE A—”

“And, here comes the windigos,” said Luna, pointing to the sky. Just as she had said, dozens of ethereal, ghostly horses galloped towards them, bringing with them a wall of frigid frost. “Nab them with a containment beam. Don’t cross the streams. Total protonic reversal and all that jive.”

“Wait… What?”

“I was needling you to create enough negativity to attract the windigos.” Luna lit up her horn, preparing for battle. “It worked. You really ought to develop thicker skin than that, though. As a princess, ponies will say things far meaner than anything I could’ve mustered. If you can’t deal with being called short—”

“It’s a problem point for me going back to traumatic childhood experiences in Magic Kindergarten that, as I said before, I do not want to get into at the moment.” She lit up her horn just like Luna, firing it at a windigo. Luna grabbed another one and the two slowly dragged the spectral spirits closer while its kin swarmed. The princesses moved quickly, dragging the trapped windigos down to Luna’s trap. The doors opened, releasing a cone of swirling energy that snatched up the windigos and sucked them into the depths of the box, the trap closing behind it.

“Huzzah!” cheered Luna. “Two in the box!”

“I’m just ready to go,” sighed Twilight.

“We be fast, and…” Luna grinned eagerly, waiting for Twilight to respond.

“‘We be fast’ is not grammatically correct.”

Luna hung her head in defeat, then snatched another stampeding windigo with her magic.

“You couldn’t just let me be happy, could you?” sighed Luna. “You could’ve finished the line and let me have my little reference, but no. You’ve just got to be Ms. Perfect. I think that says a lot about you, that you crave validation from—”

“Luna. Are you listening to me?” said Twilight. “If you don’t shut up, I will send you someplace that makes your banishment to the moon seem like a shiatsu massage.”

Luna didn’t respond at first, mainly focused on trapping another windigo. Her demeanor shifted slightly, her shoulders slouching and her ears going flat against her head.

“Well you don’t have to be hurtful…”

“Look… I’m sorry,” said Twilight. “I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just… What you said really got to me, and I feel like you’re not appreciating the fact that I’m doing you a favor.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Between you and me, I’m not very good at interacting with others. When I’m playing my games, everypony is so mean to each other. I suppose I forgot how to exist alongside actual ponies in the real world.” Luna fired a blast of magic, knocking away a windigo that was attempting to dive-bomb Twilight. “In fact… I’ve been meaning to ask you for help with that. I admit, I’ve been… Afraid, I suppose.”

“Oh, Luna, you know that you can talk to me.” Twilight took off into the air and let out a downward surge of magic, shoving three windigos into Luna’s range; The Princess of the Night grabbed them up and launched them into the trap. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll always be there for you. If you can’t trust the Princess of Friendship with a Friendship Problem, who can you trust?”

“Maybe a princess with a title that actually means something?” Twilight gave Luna a dirty look, which made the elder princess wince. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know things must still be hard for you. Especially with Celestia… Preoccupied.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me. If it wasn’t for her being obsessed with that idiot boyfriend of her’s, none of this would’ve happened! She never should’ve left me alone…”

Twilight stopped, looking at Luna uneasily. It took the Night Princess a moment, but she eventually noticed the unwanted attention.

“What?”

“Are… Are you acting out so Celestia will pay more attention to you?” asked Twilight.

“What?! Don’t be ridiculous!” Luna turned her back to Twilight, keeping busy with defending and attacking the incoming windigos. “Honestly, Twilight, I’m over a thousand years old! What you’re implying would be the tactics of—”

“Of a mare who doesn’t want to lose her big sister. Doesn’t sound ridiculous to me. It sounds sweet.” Twilight smiled at the blushing princess beside her. “It makes a lot of sense, too. I knew you wouldn’t normally be this reckless, but, if it’s to protect your sister…”

“Tia can protect herself.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want to protect her, too.”

Luna and Twilight fired a beam above the trap, their beams of magic combining into a large orb of magic. The two alicorns locked gazes, and smirked before releasing their magic. The orb shuddered and shook before imploding, bringing the remaining windigos in range of the trap. The vortex consumed them, leaving the trap smoking on the ground.

“What happened to ‘total protonic reversal’?” asked Twilight with a smirk.

“It was just a theory. Luckily, that didn’t happen, or else every molecule in our bodies would’ve exploded at the speed of light.” Twilight’s smirk faltered.

“Uh… Really?”

“I honestly have no clue. When I get tired, I sort of just default to nerd speak,” yawned Luna. “Anyway, I think we’re good. Thanks for the help, Twilight.”

“Don’t mention it. You really should talk to your sister,” said Twilight. “I’m sure Celestia would want to know how you feel about her and Discord. She won’t know that she’s hurting you if you don’t say something to her.”

Luna gave a small smile to Twilight, a bit surprised by Twilight’s wisdom at such a young age. She realized that she probably should be kinder to her fellow princess moving forward.

“Well met, Twilight. I shall talk to her as soon as she returns. I thank you again, for your help.” Luna began to prepare for take-off, but Twilight couldn’t resist.

“Luna, I wanted to know. If something like this ever happens again…” Twilight smirked. “Who you gonna call?”

Luna smiled. She may have missed Hearth’s Warming with her sister, but now it was abundantly clear that she didn’t necessarily have to be alone.

“You, of course.”

“So, let me get this straight,” said Celestia, her eyes locked on the screen displaying the antics of her sister and student. She sat beside Discord in his home, snuggling while they checked in on Equestria. “You made Luna think that she skipped Hearth’s Warming, causing her to wipe the memories of the entire country and go into a mini panic attack… Why, exactly?”

“Cause it’s hilarious!” Discord slithered around Celestia, wrapping around her like a snake. “Come on, don’t tell me you didn’t find that funny!”

“Luna was one snide comment away from getting her head blown off.”

“Thank heavens she stopped when she did.”

“Well, that settles that,” said Celestia. “Luna feels ignored because of the amount of time I’ve been spending with you. So, as soon as we get back, you and I are going to arrange a typical, standard, boring dinner party for her, Cadance, and Twilight.”

“Oh, fine,” said Discord with a shrug. He kissed his mare on the cheek, still chuckling to himself at his brilliance.

“No magic.”

Discord’s grin shattered, literally, with his mouth cracking off his face and falling to the floor. Now, he wasn’t so sure if this whole thing was worth it.

“See, I would, but… I’m… Busy?”

Celestia kissed Discord, almost mockingly, and used her magic to escape his grasp.

“Happy Hearth’s Warming, dear,” said Celestia before lighting up her horn and returning home to see her dear baby sister.

Candy Mane's Almost-Epic-Slice-Of-Life-Adventure [to Admiral Biscuit, from Trick Question]

Candy Mane looked down at the paper, then back up to Derpy. Then she looked down at the paper again. With one hoof, she tapped the table the paper was resting on.

"One, two, three, four... five," she said. "Oh!"

"Right. Do you see now?" asked Derpy, her voice filled with nervous tension.

"I do!" said Candy Mane, clopping her forehooves together. "Thanks for another great math tutoring session, Derpy. You have finally convinced me that four objects are less than five objects."

"Fewer," corrected Derpy Hooves. "Less is for stuff, but fewer is for things."

"Oh," said Candy. "Now I don't understand again."

"That's okay! Maybe next time? I'm confused and I want you to go home now," said Derpy, twisting her head as she struggled in place.

Candy Mane nodded and released the scruff of Derpy's neck from her grip. "Okay. I'll see you next Tuesday!"

"Maybe. How do you keep getting into my house every week?" asked Derpy.

It was at this point Candy Mane was tempted to say, 'I am a clever pony', but both mares knew this wasn't true. In fact, it might not be exaggeration to say she was the uncleverest pony in the recorded history of Equestria.

"I'm not sure," said Candy. She pulled a piece of candy out of her mane and hoofed it to Derpy. "Here! It's the least I can do."

"Yes," said Derpy. "That is very true."

Candy Mane smiled and trotted out the front door of Derpy's house, then proceeded to walk in a random direction. This time, the direction led her over the edge of a sidewalk, through a flower bed, and right up to Carrot Top's backside, which she bumped into before stopping.

"Hay! Watch out where you're... oh, it's you," said Carrot Top. "For friendship's sake, Candy Mane. Could you be any less clever?"

"Any fewer clever," corrected Candy Mane. "And I'm not that unclever."

"Yes, you are. You just trampled my flowers and bumped into my rump for no apparent reason."

"Okay, maybe. But in my opinion, cleverness is an arbitrary social construct," countered Candy.

"What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure. I read it in a fortune cookie, I think. Anyway, if I was so unclever, could I do this?" she said, and retrieved a piece of candy from her mane.

"That's just weird, not clever. Why do you keep candy in your mane, anyway?"

"I have to, naturally! My name is Candy Mane."

"That... you do know you don't have to do something just because it matches the words in your name, right?"

"Of course you do. You top carrots, don't you?"

"Carrot Top is just my nickname, but I don't even know what topping a carrot means. My given name is Golden Harvest, and I don't harvest gold."

"Oh. Well, you should. You're not very clever if you don't at least live up to your name."

"Nopony else does this, Candy. It's only you."

"What? Of course they do! Rainbow Dash dashes rainbows, doesn't she?"

"Not exactly, no."

"And Twilight Sparkle sparkles at twilight. I read a book about it. It had contagious nightwing ponies in it."

"Dear Princess Celestia, please save me from this conversation."

"And Fluttershy flutters shyly, and Applejack..." said Candy Mane, and then she paused with a puzzled expression on her muzzle, while Carrot Top held her hoof over her face.

"...wow. Well, that's entirely her business," she concluded.

"Candy! Listen to me. Nopony keeps candy in their mane. It's weird and it isn't useful."

"That's not true! I've seen Pinkie Pie do the same thing."

Eyes narrow, Carrot Top snorted. "Okay, you have a point. But Pinkie Pie is clinically insane. Plus she has a big poofy mane where she can store all sorts of things. You have a razor-thin mane. I don't even see how you do it."

"I curl it, see?" said Candy, squeezing the tight curl in her mane. "That way I can slip candy inside. Sometimes I also carry it in the back," she added, turning her head to reveal a couple of candy dots balancing on tiny locks of hair.

Carrot Top sighed. "Well, I hate to gallop, but I have to be anywhere else right now," she said, and then turned and cantered away from her own house.

"Rude," said Candy Mane. She turned in a different direction and continued walking. A minute later, she arrived in Ponyville Square.

Something shiny caught Candy Mane's eye: a bit lying on the ground.

"Ooh! Free bit!" she said, then leaned over to pick it up. As she did so, a piece of candy fell out of her mane.

"Ooh! Piece of candy," she said, although it came out a little muffled with the bit in her teeth. She bent over to pick up the piece of candy and place it back in her mane, causing a second piece of candy to fall out of her mane.

"Ooh! Piece of candy," she said, bending over a third time to pick up the candy. The piece of candy she'd just returned to her mane fell out.

"Ooh! Piece of candy," she said.

A dozen iterations later, Candy Mane stopped bending over. She hadn't tired of picking up the same pieces of candy repeatedly, but the remaining piece of candy was now floating in the air in front of her.

"Ooh! Floating piece of candy," she said.

Twilight Sparkle stepped into view with a look of concern on her face. "Don't bend over again, Candy Mane. I picked this one up for you."

"Oh, that's okay," said Candy Mane, spitting out the bit in the process so she could smile politely. "I don't think I could fit any more candy in my mane at this point."

"You should really find a better way to carry candy around," said Twilight Sparkle. "I'm worried about you getting caught in a recursive loop like this again. You almost starved to death last week."

"But I picked up so much candy that day! I probably should have started eating all of it," she admitted.

Twilight levitated the confection into Candy Mane's curly lock and smiled. "Anyway, I'm glad I found you. Cheerilee wanted to see you in the classroom. She's teaching right now."

"Oh, okay. Ooh, free bit!"

Before Candy could bend over, Twilight picked up the bit. "I'll just put this in your mailbox," she said, and quickly trotted off.

"Dang. My mailbox gets all the luck," said Candy Mane.

Fortunately, the schoolhouse was in Candy's field of vision. This made it much easier for her to find. She walked up to the door, which was currently open.

"Oh! There you are, Candy Mane," called Cheerilee from inside the schoolhouse. "Would you mind coming in here?"

"I wouldn't mind," said Candy Mane, as she stood in place just outside the doorway.

An awkward silence filled the air, broken only by the tweets of songbirds.

"So, are you going to...?" asked Cheerilee.

"Am I going to what?"

The foals giggled.

"Candy Mane, please come inside the building."

"Okay," she said, and walked inside. "Do I have to go back to grade school again?"

Cheerilee paused for a moment, as though seriously considering the offer. "No... we'd better not. I actually wanted you here to demonstrate posture to the children."

"Posture? Isn't it pronounced pasture?" said Candy Mane.

"Posture is how you stand up straight and tall, and hold your neck and legs upright. It helps you look smart, and it improves your health," explained Cheerilee. "I'm surprised you don't know this, Candy. You have literally perfect posture, better than anypony else I've ever met. I think you're even better at it than Princess Celestia! I used to think it was your special talent, until I saw..."

Cheerilee looked down at Candy Mane's cutie mark and blinked several times. It appeared to be two silhouettes of an adult and a foal with stars cut out in their heads. "Candy, I thought your cutie mark was fruit...?"

"Oh, I change it every once in a while in order to try out new talents."

Apple Bloom's jaw dropped. "Now how in tarnation do you do that?" she asked.

"I just paint over it and use a stencil to spray-paint a different mark on."

"Um, I don't think it works that way," said Scootaloo.

Sweetie Belle nodded. "Yeah, you're not going to gain a new talent like that. But it does sound like a fun game to try!"

"But look at it!" said Candy Mane. "See? It's on my butt! I'm clearly the best at big-star-pony little-star-pony."

"I think that mark would mean you're a talent scout," said Cheerilee. "Do you know anything about recruiting star talent?"

"No."

"Do you know anything about setting up long-term contracts for performance work?"

"No."

"Do you know anypony you can network with who represents a major studio or label?"

"No."

"Then I don't think that's your talent," said Cheerilee.

"Sure it is! See?" said Candy, again pointing to her haunch. "Maybe big-star-pony little-star-pony just means I have good pasture."

"Posture," corrected Cheerilee. "Although, technically you are teaching foals right now, and I guess that's kind of similar to your temporary cutie mark."

"I'm pretty sure it's pasture," said Candy Mane.

"I'm pretty sure I'm not learning anything," said Silver Spoon.

Cheerilee sighed turned Candy Mane to the side. "See how she stands up straight and tall, class? That's all I want you to take away from this. Do you have any posture-specific questions for her?"

"Why do you have such good posture when it's obvious you can barely function as an adult mare?" asked Diamond Tiara.

"Diamond!" scolded Cheerilee.

"I have no idea. I didn't even know I had good pastures until just now."

"I'm going to guess it has something to do with balancing all that candy in her mane," said Scootaloo.

"That's a good guess, Scootaloo," said Cheerilee. "I'll bet you're right. Trying to balance things while walking is a good way to practice improving your posture. What do you think, Candy?"

"I need to go home soon, because it usually takes me a few hours to get there. Can you point me to my house?"

"Mith Cheerilee?" asked Peppermint Twist. "Will having good poth'ture make uth retarded, too?"

"Twist, that is not appropriate," said Cheerilee, glaring at the filly.

"Don't worry, Twist. I'm pretty sure it's too late for you already," said Silver Spoon.

"That's it! Detention, all three of you!" ordered Cheerilee, frowning sternly as the three foals in question groaned aloud.

"Candy Mane?" said Pipsqueak. "I think your house is next door? I guess it's the one with your name on the mailbox. I can see it out the window."

"Oh, good!" said Candy Mane. "Just to be safe, I need to leave now. Thanks for teaching me about my pastures, Cheerilee." She trotted out the door and headed toward her house.

Four hours passed, and Candy Mane still hadn't located her house. However, along the way she had wandered into a deep and complex system of caves guarded by a friendly giant dog with three heads.

Cerberus had allowed her to pass onto Tartarus because she looked like she knew exactly what she was doing. This was another remarkable talent of which Candy Mane was completely unaware she possessed.

It was getting warm, and pits below the stone walkways here were filled with fire and brimstone. "I don't think this is my house," said Candy Mane, but she continued down the path just to be extra-sure. "You can never be too sure," she added. She'd read that in a fortune cookie, too.

Candy might not have been clever, but at least she could read. Reading is a great skill because words are always true, she thought.

"What are you doing here?" echoed a raspy voice throughout the caverns. Candy Mane looked up and saw a creature with the head and arms of a minotaur, but the body of a horse.

"You have six legs," said Candy. "Are you an ant?"

"Ah. You are clearly here to torment me. Yet you must realize I am Tirek, conqueror of Equestria? I could steal your magic right now and leave you helpless before me," bragged the unusually large, smelly ant.

"I realize that now," said Candy. "No, wait... I still don't."

Tirek sighed. "You are here to bargain, then. Fine. I shall give you anything you desire if you release me. Once I have laid waste to Equestria I will have no need for the pitiful shreds of what remain. You alone may retain your magic, and thus assert dominance over the survivors..."

"I'd like to go home."

"...and the mournful wails—wait. Where is your home?"

"Ponyville."

Tirek looked very puzzled. "I don't understand. You, too, have been banished from Equestria?"

"I don't think so," said Candy Mane. "I was in Ponyville a little while ago but I got lost on the way to my house."

"You were already in your home city, leagues away from the stygian depths, and on your way to your 'house' you ended up wandering into Tartarus?"

Candy sighed. "I am not a clever mare," she admitted.

"Apparently. Do you even have the ability to release me?" said Tirek, straining against his orichalcum chains.

"Oh, sure. I can totally do that."

Tirek's eyes widened. "And what do you wish for in exchange? Aside from directions back to your home?"

"Nothing else. Directions will do fine."

Tirek frowned. "This is preposterous. Have you attempted to retrace your steps? Go back the way you came to get here?"

Candy smiled brightly. "That's a great idea! Thanks."

"It is done. I have fulfilled my end of the bargain. Now release me!"

"Sure thing. You can go now."

"I can... what?"

"I'll let you go. You're free to leave."

"I am in chains."

"Okay."

Tirek groaned. "You have no idea how to release me from these chains, do you?"

"Nope!"

"Bah! Then I shall drain your life essence. If enough idiot ponies come to visit me as you have done, eventually I will be strong enough to break free," he said.

"I don't think anypony else is going to come here. I usually have a much harder time with directions than other ponies."

Tirek looked down at Candy Mane's haunch. Her fake cutie mark was smudged and running from the heat and sweat.

"You... you're not even a pony, are you?" he said. "This isn't real... I am finally losing my mind."

"Happens to me all the time."

"It matters not. You have wasted my time, and I demand revenge. I will drain your life force anyway, and you will collapse before me, unable to move!" bellowed the centaur.

"I guess we'll be spending a lot of time together, then!"

Tirek furrowed his brow in thought, and one of his eyes developed a nervous twitch. "Please leave now," he said, his voice low and meek.

"Well, bye," said Candy Mane.

Somehow Candy made it back to her house before sunset. First, she checked her mailbox. "Ooh, free bit!" she said, and took it with her to the front door.

After a few knocks, Carrot Top answered the door. "What do you want, Candy Mane?" she asked.

"This is my house now. I put my name on the mailbox this morning," she said, though with the bit in her mouth it came out all mumbly.

Carrot Top rolled her eyes. "Great. It's my turn to board you this week, isn't it?" she said, and sighed. "Well... come on in. Stew's almost ready."

"Thanks Carrot," said Candy, and she hugged her friend tightly. Carrot Top blushed.

"No problem," she said with a smile. "I didn't mean to give you grief this morning, Candy. I suppose I could always ask for worse company."

Candy walked in and spit the bit out onto a table. "Oh, don't do that. I met worse company earlier today in the depths of Tartarus, and he'll drain your life essence."

"I... I actually don't doubt that," said Carrot Top. "How are you still alive after all this time, anyway?"

Candy merely shrugged. "Maybe I'm not so unclever after all," she said.

And this time, she meant it.

Christmas Gift Exchange [to River Road, from Mavinator5]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Author's Note: set shortly after the first film.]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you two for agreeing to meet, my precious students. I’m certain you both have others you’d rather be spending time with, but I suspect you won’t be here long before returning to your human friends, Sunset Shimmer, and you to your family, Twilight Sparkle. As such, I hope you’ll forgive me for delivering your presents a day early.”

Sunset Shimmer smiled knowingly as Celestia was quickly bombarded with reassurances. “Princess, I will always make time for you and for all my friends if they need me! Especially those that have little time as it is.” Twilight said with a wide reassuring smile as she glanced over towards the flame coloured mare.

The three mares were seated in a circle on big fluffy cushions. A small table sat between them, sporting drinks and a platter which held bite sized cupcakes and brownies.

Sunset made to respond in turn, but was pre-empted by a colourfully wrapped gift levitating up to her, which held a distinctly bookish shape. A moment later a second, equally book shaped package floated up next to the younger princess. “I know things were tense between us, Sunset Shimmer, in the events leading up to your first and second trips to Canterlot High School. I hope you’ll come to call me mentor again in time, but for now I’m glad I can call you friend once more. I hope you’ll come to learn more about the magic of friendship, as Twilight has, with those on the other side of the portal. To that end, my gift is one that may help you sort through any trials and tribulations your budding relationships will have.”

Without hesitation, Sunset tore open her gift. The motherly smile never the matriarch’s face as Sunset read the title of her new book aloud. “Dear Princess Celestia, authored by Twilight Sparkle and Co. Adapted by Princess Celestia?” She finished, confused. Next to her, Twilight gasped, her gift having been revealed to be an identical copy of Sunset’s.

“That book is a compilation of all the friendship reports Twilight and her friends have sent to me since her studies in friendship began. It is my gift to you, in hopes that you can put her learning to good use with your new friends. As for you, Twilight, I hope you’ll join me as author and editor in chief of this new series, which I aspire to publish for all the ponies of Equestria. With this book and any that follow, I hope to help other ponies who struggle to make friends. After all, learning is important, but even more important is to spread the information you learn to those in need.”

Twilight’s agreement followed instantly, of course, as did a hug for her mentor. Celestia, however was far from finished, as she turned back to her older pupil. “And, of course, if this book is to become a series, it should include advice from as many sources as possible for all my little ponies to learn from. It is my wish, therefore, that any lessons you should learn in turn be shared as well, Sunset Shimmer. If you agree, I would be quite happy to have you return to our world once every cycle of the portal, that you might share any new lessons you have learned with Twilight and myself.”

The mare in question felt a smile well up on her face as she considered the implications of Celestia’s request. ‘A book published under the name of the most loved and well-meaning pony on the planet would be read by everypony! It means that the lessons held in this series would be held sacrosanct by all the residents of Equestria. To be asked to be a part of such an undertaking, Celestia must be willing to place her utmost trust in me!’ She concluded.

“I won’t let you down, Princess Celestia!” Sunset exclaimed with a smile, and both princesses smiled back at her. Even after all the trouble she’d caused, both her previous mentor and her first friend wanted her to help ponies across the kingdom. In fact, it was most likely because of the trouble that they had approached her. She had a lot to learn about forgiveness and friendship, and Sunset intended to make sure every lesson was carefully recorded.

“And, to help you keep track of the portal openings, you can use my gift! This way you’ll always know when you can come and see us.” Twilight said as she dropped a box in front of Sunset.

As she tore into the wrapping once more, Sunset couldn’t help but smile. Maybe things were looking up for her. That feeling floundered for a moment as she pulled out what seemed to be Twilight’s crown from the gift box. A burst of giggles incited her to stare down the alicorn with a flat look. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. I just thought that since you liked my crown so much, maybe you’d appreciate a copy!” Twilight explained before delving into laughter once more.

Next to her, Celestia let out a titter before carefully levitating a thin, flat object that reminded Sunset of her cellphone from the box. “Twilight had me help her make this. It should be easy to store. When you return home, it will most likely begin to function: Green means the portal is open, and red means it is closed. As you approach the next change, this will slowly fade from one colour to the other, so you will always have a few days of warning before the portal is about to change states. I know you are eager to please, Sunset Shimmer, but do not think you need to rush into the new task I have given you. This is merely an early edition of the first book, of which there will only ever be three copies. Twilight and I still need to finish editing and publishing this copy before we can prepare for the next.”

Sunset nodded. “Thank you, Princess Celestia, Twilight. I’m really happy that you could look past my mistakes and help me realise what I was doing was wrong.” She smiled and plopped her new crown on her on head. “How does it look?”

“It’s very nice, I think it suits you well.” Twilight said as she giggled once more.

Celestia rolled her eyes playfully before shaking her head. “I believe it is too purple for your colour pallet, my little pony.” She said, and her horn shone for a moment. “What do you think now, Twilight?”

Twilight pouted for a moment before relenting. “Fine, I guess bronze is more her colour.” Sunset quickly snatched the crown from her head, which now sported a bronze and red sun rather than a starburst.

Sunset smirked at Twilight before carefully levitating her own gifts across to the two princesses. “I got you both something as well, although they’re not nearly as personal as yours, I’m sorry to say.” Twilight reassured her quickly that her gift hadn’t been that special before opening the package, which was once again clearly book shaped. “I know you love studying, so I got you a book about biology. I don’t know if Equestria has made as many scientific strides as the humans have, but even if they have, hopefully you can compare the differences in the scientific ways between the two species.”

“This is wonderful!” Twilight exclaimed before flipping open the book and paging through it quickly.

“Yeah, I thought you might think so. I wanted to get you one on astronomy, but the humans of Canterlot high have some really strange beliefs. They think the Sun floats around the planet on its own!” Twilight looked up with a shocked expression. “I know! I wonder what would lead them to think something like that.” Both younger ponies glanced over to Celestia, who smiled serenely as she sipped her tea. “Princess do you know who controls the Sun and Moon on the other side of the portal?” She asked.

“I must say, I do not. I have never been in contact with the rulers of the humans’ world, so I cannot say for certain, but I remember hearing rumours of some divine entity when a past student returned from exploring the land.” Celestia said.

“Well, maybe I’ll look into it at some point. Anyway, for you, Princess.” She said as she nodded to the large box before Celestia. The alicorn in question opened her present, revealing what seemed to be “A genuine replica of an ancient tea set used almost a thousand years ago in the other world. I don’t know if it’s the same as the ones we use here, but I thought you might like the cultural history. The box says there’s a pamphlet inside which details the rituals used to make tea back when this type of tea set was used.”

Celestia favoured her old student with a large smile before setting down the box and embracing her. “Thank you, Sunset Shimmer, this was a very thoughtful gift. I can see just by the picture that this tea set if very different from those of the pre-banishment era. I am quite certain that Luna and I will put this to good use.”

Once liberated from the hug, Sunset was immediately pulled into another by a much more purple alicorn. “I’m so glad you joined us today! This will really help me with my research and integrating new ideas into Equestrian science. Thank you, Sunset.”

Twilight was quick to share her gift with Celestia; homegrown chamomile, lavender and peppermint tea flavours, which she admitted to having gotten help from Applejack and Fluttershy. With their gifts exchanged, the mares parted ways, Twilight returning home to her family while Celestia escorted Sunset to the portal, once again located in Canterlot Castle.

Just before she passed through, Sunset turned to her mentor. “I really am sorry-”

A comforting wing was wrapped around her barrel before she could say any more. “I know, Sunset. I forgive you, and I know Twilight has as well. Now you need only forgive yourself.” She stepped back with a smile. “Have a good Hearth's warming, my little pony.”

With a sad smile of her own, Sunset stepped back through the portal, her book appearing in one hand and a strange object that reminded her of a credit card in the other. It was glowing a dull green, with streaks of vibrant red criss-crossing the card. Sunset quickly secured her new possessions, one in her bag and the other in her wallet, before setting out to find her friends at Pinkie’s Hearth's warming eve party. Although her past was stained with violence, Sunset couldn’t help but smile at the bright future that seemed to be just around the corner.

Bureaucracy [to MorningSun, from TehSporkBandit]

As she sat upon her plush throne, it offered little comfort as Princess Celestia couldn't help but be troubled by the recent turn of events. It certainly wasn't an unforeseen possibility, but she had thought the chances of such a dire circumstance would never come to pass. Surely, she had thought the surrounding nobles to be above such devious plots, such nefarious schemes, such underhoofed backstabbings.

This must be a new form of cruel and unusual punishment they cooked up just for her.

A fillybuster over reforming Tax A-401 on Hearth's Warming Eve.

"And, furthermore, if we address the discrepancies between subsections 4 and 32, we can see that it still isn't out of the question that..." Celestia tuned Sir Bullhorn out again.

They had chosen their champion well, she had to commend them for that, at the very least. She had once seen him talk for so long that a bird had almost finished building a nest in his mane before he finished explaining to a waiter the culinary advantages and cultural implications cucumber water had over lemon water. If it wasn't for the fact that she could detect magic being cast, Princess Celestia would swear he teleported air straight into his lungs to keep himself going for that long.

Truthfully, it did impress her. It may be worth considering making him the ambassador to the Griffin Kingdom, if only to see the Prime Minister pull a few feathers out.

But legal proceedings have rules for a reason. She herself put these into place in her Solar Court to help foster a sense of justice and equality in the system. The thought had never occurred to her that the nobles would be childish enough to use that against her.

She had simply thought that her little ponies were better than that.

Right now, though, she was very disappointed.

She could swear she could hear it through the snow-clogged windows, the percussion from the Hearth's Warming play.

Her ear twitched.

How peculiar, was it getting louder?

One of the "volunteered" guards at the foot of her throne's dais snorted awake. "Good to have you back, Aegis," the other one whispered, "you're just in time for the good part."

Everypony in the room, save for Sir Bullhorn, turned their attention to loud stomping coming closer the throne's closed doors. It stopped just outside and, after a few seconds, a rumbling murmur rose through the crowd of nobles.

With a loud crack, the doors slammed open. "Sister, We bring grave news!" Princess Luna stood tall with a steely look of determination, wings unfurled and regalia impeccably polished. Everypony was silenced and Sir Bullhorn casually turned his head to look at the door.

His jaw moved slowly and closed with a wet smack, it looked like a cow chewing cud to Celestia. "Anyways, your highness," his gaze lazily resettled back onto her, "the irregular spacing between paragraphs in subsection 27-"

Celestia could see the momentary look of complete bewilderment that flashed across her sister's face. It was priceless to see someone other than her put it there. But before Sir Bullhorn could gather much steam, Luna addressed the room once again. "Did thou not hearest me? We have matters of national import to discuss away from prying eyes!"

Another wet smacking noise sounded as Sir Bullhorn blankly stared at her again. "Apologies, your highness, but we are in the middle of-"

"Nay! Thou shall leave us to this great emergency forthwith, posthaste!" Celestia contained her giggles as Luna dramatically reared back and clacked the tile with resounding finality. "Guards! Escort these nobleponies to the front gates, immediately."

"With pleasure, my Princess." Sharp Spear said as the two bowed slightly before moving towards the assembled audience. "Excuse me, sirs and ladies, but it's time to take a recess from the proceedings." A general outcry arose, but it quickly smoldered under Princess Luna's glare.

"Quick and orderly, please." Aegis called out. He approached their champion and nodded towards the door. "it's time to go, sir."

Bullhorn complied and turned towards the door with the speed of molasses, but he at least walked with the normal speed of a pony. "You know, sonnie, you remind of my brother when he was younger, such a fine and upstanding fellow. Why, I remember that one time..."

Aegis sighed heavily as he took up the rear of the departing procession. "Celestia have mercy on my soul," he mumbled as he pulled the heavy doors shut behind him.

No such luck on that today, Celestia was sorry to admit. It was shockingly refreshing to see that vacant, half-lidded stare looking somewhere else. "Alright, Luna, what's the emergency?"

"We-" She coughed petitely before continuing. "I find it distressing that you would agree to such childish attempts by the nobles. Besides, any time I'm being denied time with my sister should be considered a capital offense."

Celestia almost snickered. "I'm not putting ponies in the stockades, Luna." Her sister dramatically gasped. "I'm fairly certain that I removed all the stockades in Canterlot, besides."

"That just means we have plenty of room to build new ones."

She brought a hoof up to rub the bridge of her muzzle. "No, Lulu, that's not the point."

"I know, Celly." Luna pouted before a small smirk spread. "Now, are we going to retire and enjoy what's left of the holiday, or are we going to have another pointless discussion over the severe disuse of the castle dungeons? I'll take that wince as a no to the second."

Oops, so much for her poker face. "No, your first offer is quite appealing." With two quick flashes of light, the alicorn sisters were standing in Celestia's room. "Since the interruption was premeditated, I'll assume you told the guards to go home to their families?"

"Indeed. I'm not sure those 'nobles' are aware or care about who else they're inconveniencing with their fits. Nopony should have to guard us when we're together." Luna wrapped a box near the bed with her magic and moved towards the conspicuously naked Pine in the corner. "Even Chrysalis isn't heartless enough to launch an attack on a holiday."

Celestia raised an eyebrow. "This is part of your plan, isn't it?" She wrapped another box up in her own magic and brought it over as she followed.

"Well, yes." Some tinsel flew out of the box in a heap covered with dark blue magic. "While it's not illegal to not celebrate or show holiday cheer, I do believe that there should be a certain quota that each citizen should fulfill. And you, dear sister, are behind on your quota."

Golden magic unwrapped a few antique ornaments. "I'm sorry, I've been quite busy this year. I guess I couldn't quite make the time to do it."

"Oh, it was just a jest, think nothing of it." Tinsel wound itself around and up the tree like a snake while a spot here or there was laden with trinkets. "This just means that you and I can decorate the tree together."

They shared a heartfelt smile and continued to decorate in silence for a time. The natural green was criss-crossed with sparkling gold and silver. Hundreds of sentimental decorations bowed the branches in a random pattern; There were gifts from diplomats long past who greatly contributed to the peace all now enjoy and homemade gifts from many previous students and personal friends. There was even one that Cadence had made as a gift after her wedding because she knew they liked ornaments so much. One fired clay ornament that Twilight Sparkle had given to Celestia during her first year of personal tutelage hung next to a stylized sun and moon medallion of the highest quality that the tribes had made for the sisters after the Unification. Celestia stopped and regarded them for a few seconds, and she wasn't sure which of those two particular decorations she liked more.

She heard a huff from around the tree as Luna finished placing a star at the top of the tree. "I still wish that those nobles cared about holidays half as much as they cared about their material wealth."

Celestia sighed again, she'd been doing that a lot over the past few decades. "Perhaps one day, we'll be so put off that we unwittingly retaliate instead of continuing our cold war of passive aggressive comments and deliberate inconveniencing."

"Yes, an excellent idea!" Luna cheered as she hurled a few candy canes that expertly twirled around branches. "The both of us could do enough magical drugs to put a dragon in a coma and send them all mean-spirited letters that incite a nation-wide civil war. Imagine it, sister, I'm sure we could arrange an assassination attempt on Blueblood with a half-baked banana cream pie."

They broke into raucous laughter together. "No doubt!" Celestia proclaimed. "And we could have burst jelly donuts left on some of the Unicorns' horns while they sleep as a warning."

"Oh, oh," Luna wiped a tear away, "while we make the Pegasi's wings invisible except for the little nubs. Wouldn't that be a treat?" They guffawed anew.

"That's a little crueler than the other suggestions, but now I wonder how they would react to flying without wings."

"Ah, this is one of the things I missed the most, Celly."

That stopped Celestia dead in her tracks and her mirth died in her throat with a choking sound. "Look, Luna, again, about your time on the moon..."

Her silver shod hoof waved dismissively as Luna walked around the tree. "Please, perish the apology, Celly. As Discord has reminded me on a few occasions, we've had this conversation thousands of times." Her wing unfurled and rested across Celestia's back. "And while I, personally, think it's a massive exaggeration, the truth remains that you and I are both sorry." She stopped for a quick nuzzle. "But the past is the past and we're, arguably, one of the best pairs of sisters in Equestria. So I forgive you, once again."

"When did my little sister get so mature?" Celestia softly smiled and nuzzled Luna back against her indignant protestations. "Now, I do believe hot chocolate and cookies are part of the holiday quota, correct? Let's go on a kitchen raid and get ourselves a snack."

Luna refolded her wing with a smile in return. "Verily. Happy Hearth's Warming Eve, Celestia."

"Happy Hearth's Warming Eve, Luna."

Earth Ponies [to Doctor Disco, from GaPJaxie]

“Hey, Starlight,” Maud said. “You know spells to control ponies’ minds.”

“Uh!” Starlight snorted. “I mean. I know them. A few, that is, but lots of unicorns know a few spells like that. Or some unicorns anyway. Twilight does, and she’s the Princess of Friendship. And sure, her history with them isn’t so great, but doesn’t that just mean we’re in the same boat?”

Maud said nothing, continuing to look up at the sky. Starlight tried to let the silence hang. She held out for all of three seconds. “It’s not like I’ve used any of them. Recently. Except that one time. And Twilight’s friends were very forgiving and… I mean. I solve problems. Okay? I’m a problem solver. And most problems are caused by other ponies who won’t do what they’re supposed to. So it’s a really general problem solving tool. And sure, I know it’s morally wrong, which is why I don’t do it anymore. I mean, try not to.”

Maud said nothing. Starlight let out a sharp snort. “I have an impulse control problem, okay!? I’m working on it. I’m seeing a therapist. I mean, I saw a therapist. A month ago. I might see them again.”

Finally, Starlight fell back to the snow, head up towards the sky. She crossed her hooves over her belly. “You’re worse than the parole board!”

For a long time, Maud was silent. They were outside in the snow, looking up at the cloud passing by. There was wind scheduled for later that day. Kite flying wasn’t really a winter sport, but they were willing to make a go of it.

“Could you make a pony fall in love?”

“WINDIGOES RETURN TO EQUESTRIA,” the paper read, “MANEHATTEN LOCKED IN UNENDING FROST.”

There were pictures below the headline, flown out of the city by brave pegasi. They showed buildings set on fire, and snow drifts up to the third story. Towers sealed shut by ice, as the ponies within fought each other for control of the scraps that were left. Wars between gangs that did not exist a month ago, fought in the midst of a blizzard. In all of them, one figure could be seen.

She was Aanakamigishkaang, greatest of all windigos, Queen of Cruel Winds and Steed of the Apocalypse, upon whose back would one day be borne the end of the world.

“This is bad, girls!” Twilight said, her upturned muzzle and outdoor voice forewarning the arrival of one of declarative moments. Perhaps even a speech. “It looks like these windigos don’t just feed off of hate and strife, they can actually create it. Aanakamigishkaang’s breath drives ponies to madness, and her subjects feed on the hate that follows.”

“How long do we have before they reach Ponyville?” Applejack asked, looking down at the map in the center of the room. Already, more than half of Equestria was covered in curling white clouds.

“Only a few days. It looks like they’ll get here just in time for Hearth’s Warming.” Twilight took a sharp breath. “But don’t worry, with Starlight’s help, I’ve come up with a solution.”

“There’s a spell I know,” Starlight said. “It’s called The Invocation of Beasts, but it’s basically a spell designed to cloud ponies thoughts. It makes you a little out of it, and also kind of stupid, but it also makes you immune to nearly all forms of mind control.”

The ponies of ponyville stared at her. Starlight coughed. “And Twilight and I can cast it on the whole town at once.”

“Is that all then?” Rarity asked, a tad skeptical. “We beguile the whole town into an addled state and hope they pass us by?”

“No.” Twilight shook her head. “You’re right—on it’s own, that’s not a solution. We can’t keep the whole town simple minded forever, so they could wait us out. And even if they didn’t, they could just pass us by and attack another town. Starlight’s spell will protect us against the windigos, but we need to do more than just defend ourselves.” There was the speech. “We need to drive them out of Equestria using the one thing that windigos can’t stand!”

“Friendship?” Spike asked.

“Harmony!” Shouted Twilight and all of her friends at once. All except Starlight, anyway. “Windigos may feed on anger and conflict, but positive emotions like harmony and joy drive them off. Powerful positive emotions like love or deep friendship can actually hurt them. So if we want the windingos to leave Equestria, they need to decide that Equestria is a little too spicy to eat. And that means—”

Pinkie Pie gasped. “Best Hearth’s Warming party EVER! Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” She let out a high pitched squeal. “We can get the whole town together in Twilight’s castle! All of us! Shut the doors to keep the cold out, light the fires, and party the monsters away! There will be cake and presents and eggnog and even mistletoe. Oh oh. Rarity! You’ve gotta help me make decorations. And Applejack…”

Starlight watched as Pinkie Pie went on. Eventually, quietly, when everypony else was occupied, she snuck away.

“Oh, come on. You know the answer to that.” Starlight waved her hoof towards the sky. “Didn’t Twilight ever tell you the love poison story? I know she’s told everypony else. A few years before we moved here, the cutie mark crusaders got into this alchemy book and—”

“That’s not love.” Maud said. Starlight fell silent at once, her jaw snapping shut so hard her teeth clicked. “That’s just infatuation.”

“Oh, you mean like, true love? Like, Shining Armor and Cadence love? Ridiculous sentiment love?” Starlight turned to look at Maud beside her, and after a few seconds of silence, took that as her answer. “No! No. Nopony can… I mean, no magic can induce that. Magic can’t induce real emotions. It can just trick you into feeling something for awhile.”

“Did the Elements of Harmony trick Luna into feeling remorse?”

“Uh…” Starlight blew a jet of air out through her teeth. “No! I… okay. Contextually, maybe some magic can induce some real feelings. But only if the subject is cooperative. Luna genuinely wanted to feel remorse. She just needed some help.”

“So if a pony genuinely wanted to feel love, could you do it?”

“Why do you ask?” Starlight cleared her throat. She used a touch of magic to tuck her mane in behind her ear. “Is there somepony you have your eye on?”

“Yes.”

“Heh.” Starlight took a moment to fiddle with her hooves. Her eyes went from Maud to the sky, then back to Maud. “Somepony you think might genuinely want to love you?”

“Somepony I genuinely want to love.”

“Oh!” Starlight’s tongue ran over her teeth. For a moment, she dared to smile. “Who is it?”

“Aanakamigishkaang.” Maud turned to look at Starlight. “She’s the windigo queen.”

They circled overhead, their spectral forms visible in the gloom. Their eyes were the only light in the sky. When Starlight met their gaze, it was like staring into the sun, and her eyes burned with their radiance. Yet somehow, the light that shone forth gave neither warmth nor illumination to the landscape.

They were impossibly long. Ephemeral. Thin. Their eyes were pushed deep into their sockets, and their bones pushed out under their skin. Their manes were overgrown like wild thorns.

There were three of them. Two were bare. One wore a saddle made of the aurora, and a crown whose jewels were frozen tears. It was said she was a true oracle, who knew the names of every pony who would die in the cold.

It was not a night to be outdoors. It was a night without the moon and without the stars, so dark a pony could not see their hoof in front of their face. It was a night of cruel winds, so strong they could pick a pony off the ground and so cold they cut like knives through even the thickest of coats. It was a night when some ponies would vanish, not to be seen until the spring.

The ponies of Ponyville hid from it all inside Twilight’s palace. They were celebrating. But Maud wasn’t there with them. She was out in the cold.

Starlight was with her.

“What? No.” Twilight shook her head. “It’s absolutely ridiculous.”

“But it could work,” Starlight raised her voice. “Positive emotions have a caustic effect on evil spirits, including windigos. And we know from Thorax and the changelings that directing positive emotions at something has a much stronger effect than just being around them. Sure, partying could drive the windigos away, but if somepony loved the windigo queen herself—”

“You could love her to death?” Twilight asked. Her tone abruptly turned sharp. She lifted her head from her book. “You could love her so hard she shrivels up and dies?”

“Well…” Starlight laughed. She looked off at the rafters and swirled a hoof. “You know. I mean, any plan sounds bad if you put it in the wrong context.”

“Or the right context?”

Starlight groaned. She looked back to the open book in front of her. They were alone in Twilight’s library, magical texts piled all around them. “Maybe we should just… focus. We only have another day or two before the windigos arrive. I still need to finish my enchantment.”

“No, Starlight. This is worth a moment. Look at me.” Twilight gestured, and Starlight’s head turned like she was physically yanked forward. She looked right into Twilight’s eyes. “Love isn’t a weapon. It’s a pure, positive, compassionate emotion. It’s the deepest bond of unconditional caring two ponies can feel for each other. It’s when you truly appreciate some pony for who they are.”

Starlight didn’t answer, and so Twilight spoke again. “Starlight, do you understand?”

“Are you ready?” Maud asked.

“Of course I am you stupid bitch!” Starlight screamed. She shouted so loud her words broke down into a primal screech, a sound that left her throat raw and Maud’s ears ringing. “What do you think I’ve been standing out here for!?”

“Aanakamigishkaang’s magic is impairing your judgement.”

“No, it…” Starlight grasped her head with a hoof. She squeezed her eyes shut. “No, it isn’t! You just don’t understand! How would you understand another pony’s emotions? You never understand anything you stupid wind up doll!”

“Starlight.” Maud reached out. She held Starlight’s cheek.

Starlight stared at her. Ice was already forming in Maud’s coat and along her ears. If she didn’t get inside soon, she’d start losing the tips to frostbite. Her mane whipped in the wind. She had her frock pulled tight around her. It did nothing to protect her from the cold. She couldn't stop shivering, and where she touched Starlight, her hoof shook.

“Maud…” Starlight squeezed her eyes shut again. She shook her head. “It’s… no. This isn’t safe. You need to go back inside.”

“Starlight, I need you to focus.” Maud lowered her hoof. After a moment, she added: “Please.”

“I just don’t see why you’d want to do this.” Starlight always liked Maud’s tea. It was stone tea, which Maud made by putting a stone in water and then heating it.

Which, to Starlight’s mind, tasted much better than regular tea. She wasn’t really a tea sort of pony.

“Windigos are bad.”

“Yes.” Starlight sipped her water. She looked all around Maud’s cavern, admiring the crystals and stalling for time. “Windigoes are… bad. That’s right! They’re very bad. But Twilight and everypony else is already going to drive them away. With the party. So it’s not like you have to do anything.”

“But I could do something.”

“You could! Totally, totally could.” Starlight lifted a hoof. Maud was looking at the floor, and playing with Boulder. “But, do you really want all that rattling around in your head? I mean,” Starlight laughed, “that would be weird, right? Falling deeply, truly in love with the queen of the windigos?”

“I don’t know. Would it be weird?” Maud didn’t look up from her rock. “Have you ever loved somepony, Starlight?”

“I don’t… I’ve never had a special somepony.” Starlight smiled a stiff smile. “So that—”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Starlight’s smile faded. Her ears drooped. “I uh…” She tried to swallow, but her mouth felt suddenly dry. “Sure, I… I’ve… I’ve loved. Somepony. I’m sure. Like my parents. When I was little and didn’t know any better. Or um… well. Trixie and I. We’re good friends. And that counts, right?”

Starlight tucked her legs in tighter around herself. “I thought I loved Sunburst. But the therapist says that apparently, enslaving an entire village because somepony moved away is a little less ‘love’ and a little more ‘dangerously obsessed and using it as an excuse to act out your darkest impulses.’” Starlight laughed. “And she wonders why I didn’t come back for another session.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever loved.” Maud rolled Boulder around, left and right. “I care about Pinkie Pie. Maybe I care about her a lot. I don’t like it when she’s hurt, or upset. But when other ponies talk about love, I feel like there’s something there. Something special. I once asked my mother how I knew if I was in love, and she said if I had to ask, it wasn’t love. I’d know when I felt it.”

“And…” Starlight’s jaw opened and shut. She stammered as she searched for the words. “You’re asking me?”

Outside, the wind howled.

All the ponies of Ponyville were in Twilight’s palace. And they were having a blast. Starlight’s spell made them a little out of it, and a little stupid, and none of them could care any less.

Ponies played games. They laughed. They told good stories, ate good food, and drank good eggnog. Rarity gave Fluttershy her gift, sank into a daze, forgot the entire conversation occurred, and asked Fluttershy who made her that wonderful dress. When she found out, she was delighted, and they both got to enjoy the moment all over again.

Applejack and Rainbow Dash found themselves under the mistletoe, and kissed in front of the entire party. Neither could say why they did it, but they spent the rest of the party side by side, nuzzling into each other's shoulders.

Twilight finally told Spike she loved him like a brother. Maybe it was the spell, maybe it was the nog. Twilight and Spike both cried, and hugged in front of the entire party. As the wind howled outside, all of Ponyville swooned over their sweet moment.

Starlight and Maud stood in the corner. They didn’t party, they didn’t drink, and they didn’t swoon. They listened to the wind. They watched ice form over the windows and the doors.

They both snuck out, when the time came.

Starlight’s horn shone. It was the finest spell she’d ever cast. Possibly, she thought, the finest she ever would cast. It was a work of art. And there wasn’t even another unicorn to see it.

“Spirits of the earth and stone,
Hear the cry of one alone.
Hear the pain your greed has sown!
Seeds of ruin, now are grown.

“You took her soul, made it your own,
Set her on an earthen throne.
Stole the world of flesh and bone.
Blood and passion, overthrown.

“Spirits please, bestow your gifts,
Every one, without reserves.
Her spirit each in order lifts,
Let her have what she deserves.

“Spirits of magma, give her fire,
Let her feel her heart run fast.
Spirits of iron, strength in being,
That fires fade, the steel may last.

“Spirits of soil, givers of life,
Let her joy forever grow.
Spirits of rock, wisest of all,
Be there for her, when it is not so.

“Most important of all, the spirits of gems,
Grant her the eyes, to behold where you lie.
Grant her the power to stand witness to treasures.
That her love last forever, when all magic must die.

“No stone is unmarked, no iron is pure.
For the virtues we treasure, the rest we endure.
For love to be true, a choice must be made.
Let her see her love’s soul, and know why she stayed.”

The spell wrapped itself around Maud. For a moment, her eyes unfocused. Then she looked up at the sky, at the queen of the windigos, and she smiled.

Aanakamigishkaang laughed. It was a dark, cruel sound that carried clear through the sky.

She floated down to the earth, so close Starlight could have reached out and touched her. She leaned in towards Maud. Like they were about to kiss. Maud leaned forward.

And with a single puff of her breath, Aanakamigishkaang froze Maud solid.

The machine next to Maud’s hospital bed let out a steady beep. She was hooked up to all manner of tubes and wires, putting things in her, or taking them out, or just making sure that certain parts of her body hadn’t decided to stop working all of a sudden.

It was a bright, sunny day outside. Spring had come early. The birds were chirping incessantly. Though, Maud probably couldn’t hear them that well. She’d lost most of both her ears.

“Hey, Maud.” Starlight gave a little wave as she stood in the doorway. Maud’s eyes flicked to the door, and Starlight knew she had been seen. “How you feeling?”

Maud didn’t answer.

“Well, that’s ah… that’s about what I thought!” Starlight gave a stiff little laugh. “So I uh… I brought a book. It’s a book about rocks. I know you can’t really read on your own yet, so I figured you must be pretty bored. I thought I’d come and we could read it together.”

Still, Maud said nothing. And so Starlight sat next to her hospital bed, and began reading An Unabridged Analysis of Shale Microfractures in Response to Non-Orogenic Thrust Faults. After several hours, a nurse came in to change Maud’s bandages. She was doing a lot better under there. Large sections of skin were still falling off, but they’d stopped turning black. And she wasn’t going to lose her eyes. That was big.

The nurse said as much. Then she left, and Starlight resumed reading. She got as far as the middle of chapter seven. Then she had to pause for a time, to try and figure out some of the diagrams.

“Starlight,” Maud said. “Please don’t blame yourself for what happened.”

Starlight’s head shot up from the book. “Maud! You’re… good! I mean, I don’t—”

“I heard you crying in the hall when you thought I was asleep.”

Starlight bit her lip. Her eyes went down to the ground. After a moment, she carefully put the book to one side, and scooted closer to Maud’s bed.

“Maud? I want you to listen to me, okay? I’m not really good with… feelings. And stuff. So. I should have said this sooner. A lot sooner. But…” She swallowed. “You know I… know you, right? Nothing about our interactions… I mean. At no point was I under the illusion that you were normal. Not even on the day we met. I knew you were different. And I’ve gotten to know you better since then.

“Maud, I know who you are. I know what you are. I know you. And I know what you feel about rocks or… ponies. Or what you don’t feel. And I choose to be near you anyway. I understand why you feel like you don’t belong. And maybe I even get why you think you’re broken. But I don’t think you’re broken. And I wish I’d told you sooner.”

Starlight licked her lips. She found the one spot on Maud’s face that wasn’t covered in bandages. Then she leaned down, and kissed Maud on the forehead. “I love you.”

Maud fumbled out with a hoof. She was too weak to get it all the way around Starlight, but she found Starlight’s leg and held it tight.

After a time, she asked: “Do I love you too?”

Starlight couldn’t help but laugh: “You have to decide that, but… yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

“Oh.” Maud said. “Good.”

The Legend of Santa Claws [to Carabas, from DragonGeek]

Snow swirled around the spires of the Castle of Friendship and blew through the streets of Ponyville. Only ponies who were desperate to finish their shopping or utterly insane were outside, trying to push their way through the howling wind. Most ponies were curled up near a fire within their own homes, with their windows locked tight against the wind that chilled to the bone.

In short, it was the perfect weather for Hearth’s Warming Eve.

Fluttershy lifted her Hearth’s Warming doll onto the mantel, then turned for Discord to place his. He’d created them both out of plastic--a relatively new development in Equestria, and rare to see, but Fluttershy loved their unique look. Most Hearth’s Warming dolls were stuffed fabric that flopped all over, but these were stiff and shiny, and she liked their poses.

Discord reached out and placed his doll on the mantelpiece, then stepped back and surveyed it. “Hmm… no.” He snapped, transforming it into a different pose. “No.” Snap. “No.” Snap. “No, no, it’s just not right.” With another snap, he’d brought Fluttershy’s doll over, and the two were hugging. “Perfect!”

Fluttershy smiled. “I love it!”

He glanced around the room. “Hold on, at every Hearth’s Warming celebration I’ve ever seen, they had these piles of presents.”

Fluttershy giggled. “No, those only show up on Hearth’s Warming morning, when Santa Claws brings them!”

“Santa who now?”

Fluttershy gave a light gasp. “You’ve never heard of Santa Claws?”

He shrugged. “Spent the last thousand years encased in stone, remember?”

“Oh, this won’t do! I can’t let this stand!” Fluttershy joked, flying over to a bookshelf and pulling out a book. All the animals that hadn’t hibernated or migrated gathered around to listen to her read the story.

“Once upon a time, there was a young dragon.” She pointed her hoof at the picture of the dragon, brilliant red with green and white highlights, sleeping on a large pile of gold and gems. “His name was Santa, and even though he was very young, he’d amassed a huge hoard. He did nothing but sleep on his hoard, all day and all night, except when he was gathering more. But one day, a noise disturbed his slumber.” She turned the page, revealing the next illustration, one of a small village deep in winter drafts. “Unbeknownst to him, ponies had come to settle near his cave. But it was the middle of winter. Nopony could grow food, and they were too poor to buy any. Their moaning with hunger was waking up the dragon, and he was angry.

She turned the page again. “He tried to drive them away, but they were too stubborn. Their village was the only home they knew, and they didn’t want to leave. So he tried to find a different solution. Finally, he came to a conclusion.”

The next picture showed the dragon putting handfuls of gold into small bags. “One night, he flew over the village and dropped gold into each pony’s chimney. Now they could afford food, and they weren’t keeping him awake at night.” She turned another page. “Santa went back to sleep and pretended it had never happened, but the next year, the village was going hungry again. This time he didn’t hesitate so much, but slipped the gold down their chimneys on the very first night he woke up.

“Soon, he was giving the ponies a piece of his hoard each year, and lighting their fires to boot. And one year, he realized something very important. He was much, much happier now than he had been when all he did was sleep on his hoard year-round.” The picture on the next page showed the dragon much older. He was almost entirely red now, with green highlights on his wings and a white stripe wrapped around his tail like a candy cane. “He decided to go farther out, and help other villages. But soon his hoard began to run low, so he searched all across Equestria for a good place to find gold. Far, far in the north, above even Yakyakistan, he discovered a huge vein of gold running underground. With his dragon senses, he could tell just how far it ran, and he realized it was big enough to supply all of Equestria for thousands of years!”

Discord snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous, that’s impossible.”

“It’s just a story, Discord. Over the years, he built up a huge base, with lots of helpers to make presents for everypony, instead of just giving out gold.”

“Really? What helpers did he have? I’m pretty sure ponies could never survive up there.”

“He has breezies!” Fluttershy held up the book, showing a picture of tiny breezie workers in pointy hats, all standing at a table making toys. “They’re very delicate, I know, but remember, Santa is a dragon! It’s like he’s a warm fireplace standing right next to you. That’s what Twilight says about Spike, anyway. So, over the years, Santa Claws started trying to supply all of Equestria, but that was really hard, so he found some ponies to help him--twelve pegasi! They all helped him deliver presents, and they wore dragon masks so they’d look like him and everypony would know they came from Santa!”

She turned the last page, this one depicting a rather elderly-looking dragon with a beard. “Santa Claws is very old by now, of course, but he still hasn’t stopped delivering presents. Every Hearth’s Warming Eve, he and his team of pegasi travel Equestria, and leave presents for all good little fillies and colts.”

“Dragons don’t have bea-”

“Discord, if you’re just going to criticize the story, I don’t know why I read it to you,” Fluttershy groaned, as she closed the book and flapped over to the bookshelf.

“You’re right, sorry. It was a pretty good story. Is that what parents tell their foals these days?”

“Mmm-hmm!” Fluttershy mumbled around the book as she placed it in its spot. “Since Santa only delivers to good foals, it motivates them to behave around Hearth’s Warming. Plus, when they wake up on Hearth’s Warming and see a pile of presents where there wasn’t one before, it’s like magic! It makes them so excited. Especially with the traditional pegasus performance!”

Discord turned around. “The what?”

“Oh, when Rainbow Dash and I first moved to Ponyville, we decided to put on a show for the little foals, pretending to be pegasi from Santa! We handed out a few bits and some small toys. Everypony loved it! It became a Ponyville tradition, and we have more than twelve volunteers every year. We actually have to turn some ponies down! Rainbow Dash left the performance to give other ponies a chance, and now she just choreographs some really great aerial routines. I wanted to leave, too, and make even more room--but they actually wouldn’t let me!” She laughed. “They said that since it was my idea in the first place, I had the right to be there if anypony did. But the ponies who can’t be in the show--including earth ponies and unicorns--help out by donating bits and toys. Recently, I’ve even started to hope that we might someday get a dragon to play Santa Claws!”

Discord grinned. “You certainly seem excited about this.”

“Oh, I am! It’s one of my favorite parts of Hearth’s Warming. Even before I started singing and did the Hearth’s Warming pageant one year, this was a way for me to express myself in front of other ponies--and since I was with a group, I felt a lot less self-conscious.” She opened the window and looked out. “Oh, good, the snow’s clearing up! We’re planning to practice our routine one more time before tonight. The weather team knows well enough not to have a blizzard of that size on the night of Hearth’s Warming Eve, but it’s perfect to have in the morning.” She grabbed a dragon mask, forced the door open, and flew out. “See you tomorrow, Discord!” she called as the door closed again.

Discord, left behind, stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Maybe sooner…” he mused.

With a whoosh, the twelve pegasi chosen for this year’s show swooped low over the foals’ heads, entering the scene from behind. They wove in and out of each other, passing often over the heads of little fillies and colts and showering them with toys. The routine appeared intricate to those watching on, but for each individual pegasus, it was a simple matter of up and down--it just happened to be up over this pony and down under that one, giving it the appearance of an extremely difficult maneuver.

As they ran out of toys and bits, they began to move into the finale, when suddenly a whoosh sounded overhead. A brilliant red dragon, with green wings, a white tail stripe, and a beard, was flying over them. The pegasi forgot their routine and stopped, staring at him as he executed a few flips and spins. As Fluttershy squinted, she could clearly see his eyes, yellow with red pupils, and how he had one spiralling blue horn and one that was brown and forked like a deer’s. As he dove again and passed by her, one large eye winked, and she winked back.

He turned and spiralled into the sky, fireworks erupting from his body. Sparks from the fireworks traced down towards the foals, each one transforming into a tiny present box. Eagerly they opened them and took out small toys, but these ones were clearly chosen especially for them. For Dinky, who loved music, there was a small flute; Sweetie Belle had a harmonica. Featherweight got a camera, and Zipporwhill a squeaky toy for her dog.

As the fillies murmured among themselves in awe, Discord vanished in another barrage of fireworks. Like the last ones, these drifted down and came to rest in front of each filly and colt. This time, they were little Hearth’s Warming dolls, plastic ones like he’d made for himself and Fluttershy. The pegasi shook themselves and finished out their routine, but it was clear what part of the show the foals would remember.

EPILOGUE
“And as the foals grow, the dolls will change with them! If one gets their cutie mark, so will their doll. They change their mane style? So does the doll! It’s some of my best work, if I do say so myself.”

Fluttershy and Discord were sitting in the cottage on Hearth’s Warming morning. Fluttershy had already given her animals their presents--special Hearth’s Warming treats she’d whipped up with Pinkie Pie a few days ago. Each of them had a present to give the other, as well.

“You were great, Discord,” Fluttershy smiled. “They’ll remember that for years!”

“I certainly hope so. I always strive to be memorable. And I hope your present will be memorable too! Here, open it.”

Fluttershy took it and gently tugged at the ribbon, then eased off the paper underneath. As soon as she opened the lid of the box, a winged teapot flapped out and began to wander around the room, bumping into things. Fluttershy beamed. “Oh, I love it! But Discord, what will you use for our tea parties now?”

“Oh, it was getting a little boring anyway. I’m chaos--I shouldn’t use the same teapot all the time, even if it is an exceptionally interesting one.”

Fluttershy picked up her present. “Open mine now!” As he took it, she added, “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure what to get you at first, but after yesterday, I had an idea.”

Discord placed the present on a table, and his hands started spinning around like buzzsaws, shredding the wrapping paper off of the box. The lid simply vanished as he reached into the box. “A- A fake beard?”

“I know it seems odd,” she said, tracing her hoof across the floor, “but I wanted you to have something to remind you of yesterday and how happy you made those little fillies and-”

The rest of her sentence was cut off as he lifted her into a massive hug. “I love it.”

How Lily Longsocks Spent Hearth’s Warming Eve on the Moon [to Impossible Numbers, from Pascoite]

On Hearth’s Warming Eve, a filly might be excused from letting her mind wander to unwrapping presents and breathing in the scintillating spiced steam streaming from the mugs clutched in her little hooves. One might also excuse an adult who had never felt the need squeeze her heart into the confines of offices and desks and marketplaces and busy streets.

But for one such adult, the blessings teeming from underneath her family’s tree had always made her send a silly sigh swishing toward her best friend’s house. Not his house alone, not by far. Far too far from alone was he, and ever since his days as a colt, a cake or pie or parent split so many ways left only tiny tantalizing servings for each.

So Vapor Trail glanced at Sky Stinger, all slumped in his chair, his mind unaware of the speaker who’d just walked in. Vapor Trail sat up and nudged her friend, continuing to dawdle and doodle in his notepad as Princess Luna took her place at the briefing room’s lectern.

“Wonderbolts Reserves,” she said, and even Sky Stinger’s eyes snapped to her. No, she hadn’t said it; she’d proclaimed it, as only she could. Like Vapor Trail’s mother always told her, “A princessly word is never half-heard.”

“I would request volunteers for windigo patrol tonight.”

Very succinct, no conversation. Sky Stinger scoffed and snuffled, his nose crinkling like a sour candy wrapper. “Who volunteers for duty on Hearth’s Warming Eve?” he muttered into his hooves, much as he’d grumpily grumble in their childhood. But he looked away from Vapor Trail.

A few whispered plans of hot cider and singing and sitting down to a nice roast winter squash echoed around the room, and from the more silent watchers, a hoof raised here and there, little multicolored flowers poking through their snowy blankets.

When Vapor Trail had sat in her yard as a filly, peering up into the stellar vastness, and watching for the occasional pegasus darting past while keeping the windigoes at bay, a curious mix of warm and cold always swirled around in her heart. A close threat, but one the patrol would ward off from any unsuspecting foals. Perhaps even the suspecting ones.

Of course she’d grown up, and of course she’d realized it had all been for show, the same as the weather service reporting on Santa Hooves’s progress toward filling every stocking and leaving a present under every tree. That didn’t take away any of the fun.

She’d begun raising her hoof, but a wing flick and a tongue click from Sky Stinger halted it, demanded identification, and threatened to have it thrown in the nearest jail if it insisted on proceeding.

But Luna had seen.

When the briefing room had emptied out, Vapor Trail felt the need to linger, perhaps from that sense of psychic communication mares always seemed to share, or so stallions said. But linger she did, and Sky Stinger wouldn’t leave on his own, not back to a family where he tended to get lost in the shuffle.

“I wonder if I couldn’t entreat you to take on a more special mission,” the Princess said, looking only at Vapor Trail. “One that I normally only offer to full Wonderbolts.” That made Sky Stinger’s ears perk and prick. “Of course, it requires a team. I assume you could locate a suitable wingmate?”

“Hm…” Vapor Trail replied, hiding a grin and rubbing her chin. The more she hemmed and hawed, the more Sky Stinger jittered and juddered in his seat.

“Oh, come on!” he finally erupted, and even Princess Luna let out a somewhat un-princessly chortle, one that wasn’t half-heard indeed.

And with a final smirk, she leaned her head toward the exit. “Excellent. Please come with me.”

Lily Longsocks adorned her card with the most splendiferous splatter of golden glitter before adding her signature at the bottom. That made it official! And Miss Cheerliee said her mouthwriting had gotten much better this year.

However, the mail didn’t run tomorrow, and she couldn’t send her card anyway. Not really. She wished on a star, though, extra hard this time, that her mommy would get it somehow.

She’d left her window open so the star could see her, except… that wasn’t right. No, one could wish on a star, but they were fickle and had their own strange ways. They might answer petitions on a whim, but the moon!

Yes, the moon, shining even brighter than it used to with the shadow gone from it. Even in those days, she’d loved the moon. That was where dreams lived.

She could take her card to the moon, and her mommy would get it in her dreams.

Only a filly could so earnestly believe that the un-happenable might happen, because she hadn’t succumbed to things like logic and stoicism yet. Or so her mommy said, then told Lily to go look those words up.

That left Lily with little surprise when a mare and stallion alighted on the sill outside her window.

“Hello!” the mare said. “My name is Vapor Trail, and this is my friend Sky Stinger.” She smiled a smile of the kind that usually liked to hide behind three or four others in a crowd, a sentiment Lily knew well.

And they had on Wonderbolts uniforms! Well, almost. The pattern was a little off, so trainees maybe?

“Are you here to help me with my wish?” Lily asked, her heart floating up on breezies’ wings.

“Absolutely!” Sky Stinger stepped smartly over the sash. “If I can’t get your wish for you, then nopony can!”

Had a star taken pity on her? She twisted and whirled and twirled on one hoof until she bowed deeply before him and held her card aloft. “I need to get a Hearth’s Warming card to my mommy! Will you take it there?”

When she’d gotten no response for a good four and a half seconds, she looked up, and Sky Stinger stared straight at her as if Discord himself had set off a fireworks display behind her. Just to be sure, she checked.

“You can’t mail it, kid?” he said in that tone grown-ups had when they’d rather lie down than listen to children making the kind of sense they used to understand.

“Oh, stop!” Vapor Trail said to him with a roll of her eyes and a great deal of slouching. Then she turned to Lily. “Of course we’ll help you with your card. Where do you need it to go?”

Moonbeams didn’t feel all warm like sunbeams did, but Lily basked in the soft glow, and she sure felt warm enough. “To the moon. That’s where dreams live.”

“Oh, you want to meet her in her dreams? That’s so sweet!” Vapor Trail answered in her husky voice, the kind fun cousins always had.

“You know Princess Luna can just—”

“Sky Stinger, we’re going to the moon.”

He shrugged, but he did sneak a peek at the sky, and he grinned the way Daddy did when the newspaper had a particularly challenging crossword puzzle. “You look like a strong young earth pony. I bet you could jump halfway there on your own.”

Lily’s chest puffed up, all trophy-round. “I’m the strongest in my class. But even I can’t jump that high.”

“Hm.” Vapor Trail finally clambered into the room. “Let’s start at the beginning. What’s your name?”

“Lily Longsocks,” she replied, knowing full well what a splendid name that was.

“And why do you need to get a card to your mommy so urgently?”

Lily scrunched up her nose and fought down the tiny tickling tingle at the tip. “She’s in the Royal Guard, and she got deployed on the far side of the country.” The tart smell of the next question already hung in the air. “She said they wouldn’t make camp until two days after Hearth’s Warming, so they won’t get any mail until then.”

For a week, that explanation had snored around in her head, but now it sat up and blinked. “I don’t want my mommy to be lonely on Hearth’s Warming without her family!”

Sky Stinger flashed a fourth of a frown, and under his breath: “We could just deliver the card for her.”

But Vapor Trail shimmy-shook her head. “It’s not the same. Lily wants to see her in person. Right?” She glanced over.

“Yes,” Lily answered with an emphatic nod. Maybe it took another girl to get it. “Up on the moon. Where dreams live.”

“Look at her,” Vapor Trail said. “Not overwhelmed by a ton of siblings, not doted on by parents who feel they have to keep her in a little cage of perfection. She’s what we both wish we could be.”

“How’d you…?” Sky Stinger smiley-smirked and hopped to the floor. “Y’know, you’re right.” Then he turned to Lily and lowered one wing. “Hop on, little miss.”

So she did, and they leapt through the window. It felt just like being on her mommy’s back, soaring through the cold air with warm feathers and fur around her—she curled her tail by her side and snuggled into it—and the landscape spread out below, its blinky-twinkle lights fireflies at rest in the bushes outside her home on a summer evening. Only then did she hear the voice over the wind-whipped whistling in her ears: “You know how to get there, don’t you?”

Lily pointed her nose toward the stars and closed her eyes.

“Up.”

They’d skimmed and skated through the clouds’ lower reaches, but the more they tried to ascend, the more labored Sky Stinger’s flapping became. So when a low mountain passed beneath, he settled onto a level spot near the top.

He began panting, and Lily jumped down, since he’d clearly tired himself out. But this wasn’t the moon! They’d flown up, but then back down. At least not as far down as Ponyville. She reached a hoof out, but she still couldn’t touch the moon, so far away still.

She trotted, pacing to and fro, through moonlight beams and falling snow (which started just an hour ago), and looked up at the sky.

But if they stayed and daylight broke, the dream-door closed, her mom awoke, they lost their chance and never spoke, her mommy just might cry.

Vapor Trail brushed the damp flakes off her goggles and peered into a small cave at the other end of their resting place. A wispy whisker of smoke trailed out. “Looks like somepony’s home,” she said. “Why don’t we warm our hooves a bit before we continue on. Okay?”

Once she’d gotten down from Sky Stinger’s back, the wind had a much clearer path to chill Lily’s bones, so she nodded and scurried inside…

Only to find a unicorn warming herself by a campfire. That wonderful hush that snowflakes always bring had melted and run in here and gobbled up the fire’s crackling, but it didn’t belong in a damp, echo-ey cave. The unicorn had her back to them, and she hung her head like a waterlogged scarecrow. Across from her, the firelight danced across an array of empty glass cases embedded in the rock, all empty.

“Do you mind if we share your fire?” Vapor Trail asked.

“Share…” the unicorn replied, and a shudder ran down her back. And now that Lily looked at her back, it had marks all over it. On her sides, on her face, on her flank—two short parallel lines, repeated everywhere. She looked ready to say more, but she curled her lip as if she’d bitten into a lemon.

“Don’t you like to share?” Lily said.

The unicorn’s head jerked up, but she still didn’t look at any of them. “Like…” she said. “No, not when you have to, because everypony shares everything.”

Nearby, one of the rocks gave off a pleasant little puff of warmth it had soaked up, so Lilly pushed it beside the unicorn and sat on it. “If you have to, it’s not sharing!”

Vapor Trail and Sky Stinger stepped up behind Lily, and Vapor Trail opened her saddlebag. “Yeah! Here—I brought along some cinnamon-spiced dried apple slices in case we needed a snack. Would you like them?”

Finally, the unicorn turned to face them, and her eyes flicked back and forth between the offered bag and her own hooves. “F-for the fire? An equal trade?”

“No!” Vapor Trail chuckled, and the unicorn first flinched and faltered. But Vapor Trail continued, “Just because! You can have them no matter what.”

The unicorn slowly took the bag and chewed on one of the slices, and a little bitty grin tiptoed right above her chin, hoping to get all the way across without startling it. “Th-thank you. But letting you enjoy the fire doesn’t mean I get less of it. Is there something I can do in exchange?”

“Only if you want to,” Vapor Trail replied, but Sky Stinger had already sidled up close to the edge of the flames. “That’s the way Hearth’s Warming works.”

“I never liked Hearth’s Warming.” The smile faded, and her lips made two short parallel lines.

“My name’s Sky Stinger, by the way,” he chimed in, rubbing his hooves over the blaze. “And these are my friends, Vapor Trail and Lily Longsocks.”

“Starlight Glimmer.”

Lily peered at her anew. “Hey, I’ve heard of you! But your hair looks different. Doesn’t it swish to the side normally?” Starlight Glimmer barely nodded, and the snow-stoked silence stretched on.

“We’re trying to help Lily get to the moon,” Sky Stinger finally cut in, “but it’s really far up, and I’ve gotten tired just lifting little Lily up to the clouds—”

“I can help!” Starlight Glimmer blurted out, and she gazed at Sky Stinger like he’d held out a cup of water in the middle of a desert. “But only once. An equal exchange. I’ll cast a cloud-walking spell on her, then you can climb up to the cloudtops to save your wings. Or rest, if you need to. I can do that.”

Vapor Trail and Sky Stinger shared a glance, and then Sky Stinger smiled at Starlight Glimmer. “Only if you want to.”

With a crinkled forehead, Starlight Glimmer stared at the ground like Lily sometimes had to when Miss Cheerilee asked her a really tough question. “I-I’ll do it.” She stashed the apple slices in her saddlebag, and her horn glowed, and—

Whoa, Lily was floating! The magic gathered in little clumpy clusters around her hooves before fading away and setting her back down. When she looked back up to thank Starlight Glimmer, she could have sworn she saw the soft scale-like overlap of feathers on her hooves, out of the corner of her eye, but when she watched them directly, nothing! And it kept happening, so Lily just thanked her without meeting her gaze, but Lily had a feeling Starlight Glimmer didn’t pry her eyes from the dirt either.

“Would you like to come with us?” Vapor Trail asked. “You might like to see how you’ve helped. I’m not sure if I can carry you, but I’ll try.”

“I-I’ll do it.” The same sprinkly sparkles danced on Starlight Glimmer, over her whole body this time, and she immediately bobbed up, a cork in the pond of her magic.

Sky Stinger stood, stretching his sturdy wings. “I think I’m ready for another go at it.” He crouched down with a wonderful winning smile. “Shall we?”

With a little skip-jump, Lily vaulted onto his back again, and they made a swish-saunter outside. He’d really gotten into a better mood!

But the snow had piled up as well, and down and to and fro it fell. By wing and magic through the squall, each flake a puff-like cotton ball.

Beside them, Vapor Trail kept swiping snow from her goggles, so Lily leaned forward to brush Sky Stinger’s clear, and his withers twitched in a thank-you shiver-shrug. In the back, Starlight Glimmer hovered along, her shield pushing aside the thick, hushed clumps, but she kept her eyes cast downward.

Up, up, and more up, they ascended to tickle the clouds’ bellies, but they didn’t rise through. Of course, the pegasus magic! The clouds were solid to them—they’d have to find a break to get to the top and the clear night sky, the moon, the bright moon they’d lost sight of since the snow began, though Lily hadn’t noticed until now.

Ahead, a beam shone through like a beacon, and Sky Stinger soared straight for it. Beckoning to them, inviting them to the grand ball above the clouds, and Sky Stinger bowed, accepting its gracious hospitality. A proffered arm, an escort past the cumulonimbus gates, a tunnel, left, left, right turns—a pegasus would know the way! A forward surge, and then emerge: a sparkling menagerie!

They alit, and Lily hopped onto the cushiony softness of cloud fluff, but her eyes roved this way and that and back again. A waterfall of mist, gushing over, splashing, collecting in pools and running down, down, amid the lumpy tufts to swirl through unseen drains and fuel the snow shower below.

Icy spars like trees and stars reflected in their gleam. A silvery light made day of night, and frost like buttercream.

Lily pranced and danced, a-gambol in the moonbeams. “Is this what it’s always like on the cloudtops?” she squeaked.

Vapor Trail set down beside her and cast her own awed glance about. “No, I’ve never seen one like this. The tops don’t usually look any different than the bottoms.”

The mist-stream gurgled by, and Lily dipped her nose in for a taste. A chilled flavor, not too far from peppermint, but faint, and it didn’t make her tummy the least bit cold. “Come try some!” she said to Starlight Glimmer, who only stared at her hooves. She hadn’t raised her eyes since they’d left her cave. And if Lily wasn’t mistaken, more lines had filled out her coat, black overtaking the pink hue. “Won’t you?”

She floated over and peered into the stream, but no reflection would show in that roiling froth. She did detach a small piece with her magic and dab it with her tongue, her eyes focusing on it for a moment. Then she hovered another glob to Vapor Trail without looking. “W-would you like a taste?”

“Thank you!” Vapor Trail said, and and she swished it around in her mouth. “It was nice of you to share.” Just the tiniest tease of a smile tugged at Starlight Glimmer’s face, and a few of the lines on her body faded, though a confused wrinkle surface on her forehead.

“Very dreamy up here,” Sky Stinger remarked, “and very dreamlike. This must be the right place.”

No snow to muffle the sound—crystalline globes dangled from the trees and dingled in the breeze. Their tinkling carried across the cloudscape, and the rustle-bustle of white rushes on the stream bank hissed at them to keep quiet.

Stars, so many, more than Lily had ever thought could exist, cast their glitter glow on everything. A bright one, over there! Then another and another, and look away for a half second, a few faint flecks found in between, lost if she watched them directly. In the corners of her eyes, countless points of light.

The cloud rumbled beneath her, and the stars fell from her eyes.

To the left and right, more gauzy meadows, but straight ahead, the pillowy billows piled to a pinnacle, the peak too far high to clearly espy, and the moon hung atop it all. “There!” Lily said. “We have to go there.”

Sky Stinger slouched slightly, but then he perked up and marched forward. “Okay, then, let’s go! I’ll get you there.”

“Um…” Vapor Trail said. “You sure about this? We might need to think about how to get there.”

“Just walk on up,” he replied, pointing at the cloud-crag. “I got this, if the two of you want to stay behind and rest.”

Vapor Trail pursed her lips, but she took up trotting beside him, and Lily followed, with Starlight Glimmer and her hum-thrumming magic trailing behind. “We’re here to help, you know. You don’t have to do this on your own.”

But Sky Stinger grinned back. “I know, but this’ll be easy.” If Lily had seen right—far behind them, in the mist, but a faint figure following, but as soon as she squinted, it disappeared.

Vapor Trail didn’t look convinced, but she kept on. They climbed and clambered and scrambled up the tufty-puff inclines, and Lily could swear she heard birdcalls. What would a bird do this high? Even the tinkle-chime trees thinned out the further they went, but—yes, a few frosty finches, seemingly made of ice, and they tittered and warbled at the ponies passing. What a magical place!

Back down the slope, a white halo ringed the pool where the mistfall splashed, but Lily only spared it a glance—the moon was the other way, and she must have made that mysterious figure up. Still, that impression of feathers on her hooves lingered, and it actually felt like feathers with each step.

Minute after minute, maybe even hours, and that same pool looked absolutely tiny. Vapor Trail and Sky Stinger both panted relentlessly, but Lily hadn’t even broken a sweat, and Starlight Glimmer merely floated along, silent as ever.

“How much further?” Sky Stinger said.

“We can fly, if that’d be easier,” Vapor Trail replied.

Truth be told, Lily could scamper uphill fast enough that they probably would keep pace better by flying, but Miss Cheerilee had always instructed patience, so Lily had been picking out hoofholds a little more cautiously. Not everypony could climb like an earth pony.

“I can handle it.” Sky Stinger leapt atop another mound of cloud.

“You don’t have to alone,” Vapor Trail said. “We’re here to help.”

“If I need a boost, I know you can give me one—” Vapor Trail started to speak again, but Sky Stinger shushed her. “Look, I know how I used to be. I acknowledged that I can use a boost sometimes.”

With her lips in a taut line, Vapor Trail rolled her eyes to the side. “That’s not…” she mumbled. “Never mind.” And yet again, Lily got the sense of somepony trailing them, well behind, but stronger now.

Before long, however, they’d run out of cloud to scale. The squishy, smushy droplets tapered to a point, and still the moon tantalized them from above. Lily hooked an arm around the peak and peeked, shielding her eyes with a hoof. No further way to ascend except by wing again, but they’d gotten closer.

Lily didn’t even have to ask. Sky Stinger swooped past, and Lily pounced on his back, then up, up, further up, with Vapor Trail flapping a gust to bolster him.

More than halfway! And she could jump the remaining distance, she just knew it!

So she sprung skyward.

So she tumbled earthward.

She rolled to a stop on a rocky outcrop—without opening her eyes, an earth pony could tell. Once her head stopped spinning, she noticed the glow around her.

“Thank you!” she said to Starlight Glimmer, who floated just overhead. The rocks themselves hadn’t stopped Lily, or she’d have a lot more than a case of dizziness. And only a second later, Sky Stinger and Vapor Trail dove to her.

“That was reckless, kid!” Sky Stinger said. “My wings weren’t even tired yet. I could have gone higher.”

They trembled, though, and Lily watched Vapor Trail shake her head at him.

Past the rocks, a dark shape wavered, hidden in the fog. But Lily could swear she saw glitters of light inside. “Hold on a minute,” she said.

And she walked into the blackness. Another cave?

The others soon followed, and Starlight Glimmer’s magical illumination cast sharp shadows around. Nothing. Lily must have been mistaken. And Vapor Trail was right: Sky Stinger couldn’t have taken her much higher.

She knelt on stone within the dark, her progress lost and failure stark, and if she fell short of the mark, her mommy’d be alone.

With chilling winds and burning tears, she’d just surrendered to her fears, until a faint sound reached her ears: a rustling, squeaky tone.

“Hello?” Lily said.

All four of them peered up at the yellowish flashes multiplying on the ceiling, spelling out minute constellations on an inner sky. Then one pair came detached and fluttered down to Lily.

A… a batpony!

A young one, at that, probably about Lily’s age. The young bat cranked his neck sideways and stared long and hard at her. “Who are you?” he said.

“Lily Longsocks. I hope we didn’t disturb you.”

He shook his head, and Lily grinned at the cute little hair flares on the tips of his ears. “We sleep during the day, but we didn’t want to go out in the snow, so we slept in.”

“Oh. Well, we were trying to get to the moon, but—”

“The moon!” His eyes widened so greatly that he might have swallowed her whole with them. “Our watchful goddess! Have you touched her face?”

“No. We tried, though,” Lily answered.

“Many of us have tried, too.”

Lily let her shoulders go limp and languid. “My name’s Lily Longsocks, and these are my friends. What’s your name?”

“Nightshade,” he replied, but he’d already gone nosing around Starlight Glimmer. “You can fly without wings?”

She settled to the monolithic floor but kept her light spell going. And she still had her eyes downcast. “Yes.”

Nightshade’s nose poked and prodded toward Starlight Glimmer’s saddlebag. “Cool. And… do I smell fruit?”

A susurration from overhead, and more of those yellow gems gleamed, blinked, approached, materialized out of the darkness. “Fruit?” various voices ventured, their echoes rebounding off the cavern walls and bombarding each other for supremacy.

“Would you like…” Starlight Glimmer said. Then her forehead wrinkled and her eyebrows vexed as if reasoning out a philosophical conundrum. “…to share?”

She promptly produced the bag of apple slices and opened it, levitating out a piece for every batpony who filed past. Behind her, Vapor Trail grinned at Sky Stinger as the assembled denizens munched happily on their snack.

“Do you think you could help us get to the moon?” Lily asked.

“The moon!” the crowd exclaimed softly.

“I don’t know how,” Nightshade replied, smacking his lips. “She’s come down to us before, but we’ve never gone up to her.”

“How do you get her to come down?”

Nightshade only shrugged a shaggy shoulder.

“Wait…” Vapor Trail held a hoof to her chin. “We have a lot of wingpower here. And Sky Stinger is the best around at boosting up high. He can take off like nopony else.”

“Yeah,” Sky Stinger chimed in, but a teensy little frown weighted his lips down. “Hey, why didn’t you boost me that last time then?”

“I did,” Vapor Trail answered quietly. “It wasn’t enough.”

Immediately, Nightshade charged outside. “Well, we got plenty now. C’mon, guys!” Sky Stinger and Vapor Trail could do little but follow them out, and they all stood around awaiting instructions with their fur fluffed out against the cold. Little drifts collected on the tips of their ears.

“Well, um, okay,” Vapor Trail began. “I guess just listen for my signal, and then everyp—everybody give a big, mighty flap, as hard as you can, directing it under Sky Stinger. We’ll shoot him to the stars!”

“No, just to the moon,” Lilly said, taking her place on Sky Stinger’s back. But no sooner had she uttered the word than the whole night-colored crowd gazed skyward most reverentially.

“The moon!” they chorused, silvery light reflecting in their eyes.

But already Sky Stinger soared aloft, and Lily gripped his mane. “We’ll get you there on this try, I’m sure of it,” he called over his shoulder. “I won’t fail you.”

He flew a little loop for good measure, then swooped low over the assembly, who all took off on an intercept course. And as he lifted away again: “Now!” Vapor Trail shouted, and the gustiest gust Lily had ever experienced buoyed them up, more, more, still more!

Sky Stinger leaned into it, a sharp spear cutting through the air, though the wispy whispers of cirrus clouds, and Lily hunkered down against him, but she chanced a glimpse, and the moon grew bigger yet, taking up half the sky!

And still too far.

Sky Stinger’s momentum died away, and they fell, spiraling back to where they’d started. The shiny yellow eyes, watching, glistening, now also falling with her heart as they saw her returning with him. He skidded to a landing and collapsed, unable to get enough breath to speak. And still closer, that feeling of being watched!

Vapor Trail galloped over and nuzzled him.

She whispered something in his ear, a whisper Lily couldn’t hear, but only on her mother dear would Lily’s thinking dwell.

The evening gone, the morning nigh, and fate had set the moon too high, and gracious friends had helped her try, but no success to tell.

LIly’s tears dripped on the bare rock, and some of the batponies emitted little screeches, and only then did she notice. There was no snow anywhere near the cave. In fact, the air coursing out was rather warm. And… and so was the huge dragon lumbering out!

“Dragon!” she yelled, but no twitch of muscle, no stitch of hustle from the batponies. And the dragon clamped his claws over his ears at her shouting.

“Keep it down out here!” he grumbled. “I’m trying to sleep.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Lily said, bowing. Vapor Trail rushed to her side as well.

“Yes,” Vapor Trail added, “we didn’t realize. Please don’t be angry!”

The snow had turned to sleet, and it skittered off his scales. “It’s bad enough I got chased away from Ponyville, but now I can’t find a good place to nap.”

Lily’s nose twisted. “Don’t the batponies bother you, all living in there together?”

“No, we leave each other alone. I don’t hear them unless they get excited.” He added a most stern scowl. “So if you don’t mind, I’m going back to sleep. Could you just keep quiet for the next year or so—?”

“Year!?” Lily erupted, and the dragon winced from the sound. “I have to get to my mommy tonight!”

“Knock off the noise, alright?” the dragon said with a grimace. “Just let me go to sleep—” a heavy, smoke-laden sigh “—alone.”

Vapor Trail tapped Lily on the shoulder. “Let’s move along,” she hissed. “We can find another place to try.”

But as he trudged off, Lily said, “Wait!” Then she ran up to him, a mere speck below his towering form. “You don’t have to be alone.”

“I just want to sleep,” he growled, “and I don’t see any other dragons around here.”

“What if, um…” Lily squinted one eye and rolled the other up a more dragon-appropriate distance. “What if I helped you get back to sleep?”

“Hey,” Sky Stinger whispered in Lily’s ear. “He has huge wings. We should see if he can help.”

For a moment, Lily considered it. But his grunt was sour and his posture dour, and she didn’t get a good vibe from that dragon. “I think this time we should just help him. Do the right thing, and it pays off for you in the end.”

Lily turned back to the waiting dragon. “What if I sang you a lullaby?”

His belly stoked, his nostrils smoked, and he snorted out puffs of ash. “I don’t know…”

“I don’t mind. I’d do that for you.”

“A-and I wouldn’t be alone?”

Lily smiled. “I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep. And the batponies are never far away.”

“I guess. But it might help if I had a new piece of gold. Just a little.”

Then Vapor Trail trotted over and removed her Wonderbolts Reserves pin. “Will this do?” she said.

She’d really give that up? “That’s so nice of you!” Lily said, and quickly lowered her voice. “Sorry.”

The dragon barely pinched the pin between two claw tips, but he did grin at the shiny sheen before plodding back into the darkness. Lily trailed him, and when he’d curled up with his tail wrapped around his chest and the eensy bit of metal clutched in one enormous claw, he closed his eyes.

And Lily sang the lullaby her mommy always did.

“Hush, my sweet, now, and don’t you fret,
The day is gone, and the sun has set.
Lay your head down and say good night,
Till you see bright morning light.

“No more sorrow, no more pain,
Stay in my arms till you wake again.
Go to sleep, cast off your fears,
Dream of me and dry those tears.

“Darling snug, all bundled in tight,
Moonbeams bathe you in heavenly light.

“Hush, my sweet, now, and don’t you fret,
The day is gone, and the sun has set.
When you see the new sun appear,
Know I’ll always love you, dear.”

For a creature who could take a year to fall asleep, he’d sure nodded off rather quickly! Soft snoring, and he sucked at a thumb.

So Lily tip-hoofed out and pre-emptively shushed everyone.

“Okay,” Sky Stinger instructed, “one more try. I’ll give it all I’ve got.”

All in position again, swiftly streaking skyward, a big blustery boost, frenzied flapping, but Lily’s heart wasn’t in it. Nothing had changed, so why would it work any better this time? It came as no surprise when Sky Stinger stalled out again, angled down toward the colony of batponies once more.

And with it hope had gone away, her resignation here to stay, upon the dawning of the day, her card would be left here.

The words she’d sung had praised the morn, but with its start, her heart was torn, her mommy lonely and forlorn, without her daughter’s cheer.

Yet as they plunged, Lily spied over the cloud’s edge a curious sight: Derpy and Carrot Top floating lazily in a hot air balloon. And the huffing and snoring and chuffing spilling out of the cave caught her ear. When ear and eye compared notes, they completed a circuit which fired off a spark in her head.

“Sky Stinger,” she called. “Swoop past the cave opening. There’s a lot of hot air coming out. I think it’ll lift us up.”

“O-okay,” he said, but lumbered in for a rough landing instead of soaring up. “I just… I just need a little rest.”

When he jerked to a halt, he stood next to Vapor Trail. “I… whew… I’m going to give it one more try. Lily has an idea.”

“Don’t you mean ‘we’?” Vapor Trail replied.

“Huh?” A gray outline emerged from the snowfall, equine in shape, and—that was it! It had pursued them ever since Vapor Trail and Sky Stinger had begun their little argument, that Sky Stinger was taking too much credit. Yes, Lily had perceived that particular point of contention. Children knew more than adults thought they did. But Sky Stinger really was the best flyer here, so why jeopardize her journey?

Vapor Trail scraped a hoof at the snowy stone and looked away. “It’s been bothering me all night, but… it’s not just you. We’re all helping.”

“I know,” Sky Stinger said. “I accepted a while back that it hadn’t been me doing all that great stuff alone, not since we were young. I haven’t lied about that.” The windigo plodded closer, its breath tatting frosty lace on the air.

“No, but…” A quick sigh steamed from Vapor Trail’s nose. “But you still treat it as your accomplishment. Don’t get me wrong—I appreciate all the times we’ve worked together in training sessions. You’ve helped me out a lot, and you’ve been very receptive about getting help as well. But through it all, I’m afraid you still don’t see this as a team effort.”

Closer yet! Lily turned to warn them as the snow intensified. “Guys, I…”

Sky Stinger’s glance wandered around from Vapor Trail to the crowd of batponies to the gaping cave entrance and finally to Lily, who’d remained on his back. “I didn’t—”

Almost upon them! One good leap, and it might freeze them solid! “I think we should run!”

He slumped his shoulders and swallowed hard, casting his eyes about for some means of escape or denial. But in the end, the rest of him deflated as well. “You’re right.”

And… it was gone. Lily surveyed all around, but no trace of it. And the snow had stopped.

“Did you say something, Lily?” Sky Stinger asked.

“Um… no.” Not a single sign of their solitary stalker.

Sky Stinger walked up a low rise and addressed everyone in a hushed tone (no need to wake the dragon, after all). “One last try. I’ll—” he shook his head “—we’ll use the dragon’s hot breath as an updraft, and we’ll make it this time! Once more, to the moon, for Lily!”

Wide eyes and tufted ears sought out the silvery disc at the mere mention of the word. “The moon!”

Subdued squeaking and quiet clapping ensued, and Sky Stinger raised his shaky wings. With a wingstroke, they were airborne again, looping up to gain speed, back down to race over the cave, and the warm column lofted them high! The assembly of batponies had followed Vapor Trail up, and as Lily shot past, a great big collective flap launched them even faster, frenetic feathers flying farther, full moon filling her field of view, growing greater, greatest, until she could almost reach out and touch it. Almost.

Sky Stinger hung in the air, unable to ascend anymore. And Lily heard the voices frozen in time, as if standing right next to them.

“I don’t think they’re going to make it,” Vapor Trail said.

“The moon…” a soft chorus answered, the hope gone.

“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Vapor Trail asked.

The batponies had done all they could. Why would she ask them that? But the answer didn’t come from them.

Starlight Glimmer’s lethargic drone lifted from her silence. “I cast the cloudwalking spell on her. It was an equal trade.”

“But you shared your fruit with the batponies. Just because you wanted to. It seemed like that, anyway.”

“Sh-share?”

“You could share your magic with Lily.”

“For… for an equal trade—?”

“No, just because. You came with us for a reason, I think. You could have just stayed at your campfire.”

“Somepony taught me… I don’t remember. But I don’t think ponies are supposed to be alone on Hearth’s Warming. I think… I think the whole point—a trade! I can make an equal trade, my magic for letting me spend time with you!”

Lily peered over her shoulder at Vapor Trail, who shook her head, the snow tumbling from her mane. “No,” Vapor Trail said. “We’re happy to have you with us. No price, no trade needed for that.”

Sucking in a breath, Starlight Glimmer finally met Vapor Trail’s gaze, maybe the first time all night she’d looked somepony in the eye. “I’d forgotten!” The little lines all over her twinkle-winked out, one by one. As each extinguished, a new star blazed and blared on the horizon. “Hearth’s Warming, past and present and future, and friends and gifts, and Twilight Sparkle taught me that today, and—I don’t think I can do much at this distance!”

“Every little bit helps,” Vapor Trail responded.

So a bright beam burgeoned from Starlight Glimmer’s horn, lanced like liquid light into the amethyst sky, but it dimmed the further it went, and it barely glowed anymore by the time it reached Lily. Yet Vapor Trail was right.

The magic glow lifted Lily, pushed her higher, the last little bit, until the moon filled everything. Did she still have her eyes open? It looked the same either way. She embraced the light.

With all the friends who’d helped her soar, who’d given of themselves and more, with her this awe-filled place explore, and grant her wish most dear.

She dashed ahead and called aloud, and with her card, as she’d avowed. Her mommy stood there, grin so proud, and hugged her daughter near.

On the moon. Where dreams live.

Vapor Trail awoke with a start, the feeling of snow still bright in her heart, and moonlight scorched like a naked flame—she’d never see Hearth’s Warming quite the same.

On the cot next to hers, Sky Stinger sat up as well, peering around. Orange sun rays filtered through the bare trees and danced on the walls.

Vapor Trail got up gingerly and scanned over the other dozen or so cots, all empty, but all clearly having been slept in. Her saddlebag lay on the floor, and the top of a full sack of dried spiced apple slices poked out. With a quick gasp, she glanced down at her uniform—her pin sat perched in its usual spot on her chest.

“I must thank you two. You had a particularly demanding mission.” Princess Luna stepped out from the room’s one remaining shadowed corner and stifled a yawn. Vapor Trail immediately bowed, and Sky Stinger fell to the floor in his attempt to roll off his cot and do so, but Princess Luna waved both of them off. “You performed admirably, and I must say, it does help matters when my agents are children at heart themselves,” she added, winking at Vapor Trail.

“Yes, Your Highness,” they both responded.

“I expect a certain amount of discretion in keeping all of this secret, of course.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” they said again, and Vapor Trail continued: “But Starlight Glimmer? And were the batponies and dragon real? Did you summon them?”

Princess Luna shook her head amid a faint smile. “I did not. Dreams overlap sometimes. And I daresay Lily is not the only one you helped last night.”

“Her mother?” Sky Stinger said.

“She was there, too.”

The Princess yawned again, and Vapor Trail couldn’t help echoing it. “Yes,” Princess Luna said, “after that sleep, I believe you will need some rest.”

“How about we just spend a quiet day together?” Sky Stinger asked. “Stop by home to say hello, of course, and—heh—tear into some presents, but then I could use some time alone with a friend.”

“Just what I was thinking,” Vapor Trail replied.

On their way out the door, Vapor Trail paused. “Princess Luna… can we do this again next year?”

The Princess’s smile only grew.

Author’s note:

I got quite a few requirements on this one: Use Vapor Trail and (not or) Sky Stinger, but no romance (check), no Equestria Girls characters (the rules already discourage such, but check), no movie characters (check), no comic book characters (check), no post-season 5 characters (wait, Vapor Trail and Sky Stinger are from season 6…), and no antagonists (check).

Well, I used Lily Longsocks, and she’s from season 6 as well, but aside from her being strong, which is a minor plot point, she’s pretty generic in the show, and it doesn’t really matter to the story much. She could have been about any earth pony child and it wouldn’t have changed anything. So I hope that didn’t rankle.

I didn’t use Starlight Glimmer as an antagonist, so she would seem to satisfy all the requirements, except I was halfway through writing when I spotted a blog post comment by Impossible Numbers stating: “And I say this as someone who rues the day Starlight returned for the Season Five finale onwards, and who only academically comprehends why her presence could be appealing.” So… sorry, I guess? I hope some other readers will enjoy it, at least.

I Took a Pill in Canterlot (R&G mix) [to Dubs Rewatcher, from ?????]

So there I was. Canterlot Hearth’s Warming Ball, hundreds of the finest in Equestria wearing the finest that Equestria had to wear, eating the finest Equestria had to eat, talking about the finest subjects to the finest subjects with the finest opinions. Like a perfectly synchronized little clockwork dance of organic marionettes, engaged in the most refined, heartwarming debauchery of the year.

And there I was, tiny plastic pill bottle unscrewed, a single little white capsule staring up at me from the bottom of the bottle, and I realized, what, where did the other capsule go?

Oh, I realized. I already swallowed it.

It went in the water that Sunset Shimmer drank from the Royal Canterlot Bathroom Faucet, down into Sunset Shimmer’s gullet, to Sunset Shimmer’s stomach. That’s who I was, that’s what I was doing here, I was making sure that Sunset Shimmer wouldn’t have to feel alone, making sure that she took her medicine like she promised she would, one hit now and the next hit four hours from now, when the scene changed from the Canterlot Hearth’s Warming Ball to Pinkie Pie’s Hearth’s Warming Bash Ft. Vinyl Scratch, Octavia Melody, and about a dozen other different names that made no sense to Sunset Shimmer at all.

She. Me. I was Sunset Shimmer. I had to remember that. Couldn’t let myself get distracted, couldn’t let myself not remember my history, my identity, even though that was what I was trying to forget in the first place. Play it cool. Play it normal. You are Sunset Shimmer.

You.

Are-

“Sunset Shimmer?”

And there was the voice addressing her, like the softest police siren she had ever heard, an elegant pneumatic drill straight to her brain that cause Sunset - that caused me to turn around.

There was beautiful-

There was Rarity, beautiful as a winter nymph, all clad in the sort of silver that sparkled and the blue that subtly affected her mane, casting it as if it were a brilliant midnight sky. Or maybe that was the medicine talking. What was in that capsule, anyway?

“Sunset? Are you okay?”

Oh, crud. I needed to say something.

“Please, call me Sunny.”

Rarity bit her lip. “Dear, are you okay? You look, ah...stressed.”

“It’s a bit of an understatement.” The pill bottle in my hoof was warm as a fresh sunny-side-up egg, but I didn’t want to set it down for fear of drawing attention to it. “I wasn’t expecting to be invited here, really.”

“No? But Twilight’s been meaning to invite all of her friends here for ages. We haven’t been deliberately neglecting you, dear.”

“That might have been better, actually.” I set the pill bottle down on the ceramic sink ledge-

Why did I set it down again? Of course the beautiful starli- of course Rarity turned her head, of course she paid attention to it, of course of course of course that’s exactly what she would do. I needed to get her attention again.

“We’ve never properly met, have we? I mean, pony me and, ah...pony you.”

Rarity turned her head back to Sunset Shimmer. Success. “I don’t suppose we have, ah...Sunny?”

“Think about all the beautiful marionettes out there, then.”

“The what?”

“You know, the...the fancy ponies. The beautiful ones, with the really expensive, y’know. Everything. And think of you. And Twilight Sparkle, and all of your friends, and...you fit flawlessly, you know? Princesses with nobility and successful entrepreneurs and the big names with bigger names. It’s a cohesive unit, intricate, everything fits together like the best sort of clockwork. Uh. That’s where Marionettes came from, except not. You know what i mean, though, right? Clockwork dancers?”

It was a resounding distraction. Talk about nobility, talk about how fancy everypony looked, come up with a turn of phrase to pose as a question to get things convoluted and mixed up and focused on something else. It was a brilliant plan.

Wait, why was Rarity walking closer to me? What was that thing in her eyes?

“Dear. You fit in with the rest of us, too.”

Damn it!

“Rarity?” Sunset Shimmer said. “What time is it?”

Rarity chuckled. “I don’t know. I suppose the party’s been going on for a bit, hasn’t it?”

“Two and a half hours. One hundred and fifty minutes. I’ve watched the guest count double, treble, quadreble. I’ve danced with exactly two ponies who looked like they were operating more out of obligation than interest. I’ve had precisely two cucumber sandwich triangles, four drinks from the punch bowl and a square of fudge. And I’ve spent the entire rest of the time carefully watching…”

I probably shouldn’t tell her about the beautiful peacock wings that just spread from her back like gossamer rainbows built in fast-forward.

“...Those are beautiful wings, you know?”

Rarity looked fit to spit out a tuna. “Wait, what?”

“Sorry! Sorry, expression. I’m nervous. Really nervous. Not just that, but...you know.”

Man, Sunset Shimmer felt exhausted. Good exhausted? Bad exhausted? Hard to say. Like her body was an -

Like my body was this undammed river, carrying along a current of energy without ever actually feeling it.

Wait, why was Rarity looking at Sunset Shimmer’s pill bottle again? I thought she was over that.

“Dear - if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the medicine for?”

Damn

It

“Social Anxiety.” Sunset Shimmer replied. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry! Forget I asked.” Rarity’s eyes seemed to swell in their sockets. Sun- I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about her guilt. She shouldn’t have to share that.

“It’s because my eyes are a little dilated, isn’t it? Like, and by “a little” i mean “a lot,” really?”

“Well-”

“It’s okay. Zephyr said it might happen, but that it wasn’t exactly a bad side effect. They’ll go back to normal.”

Rarity curled her lip. I think that was an unhappy curl. I really didn’t want it to be an unhappy curl. I need to open my mouth again, reassure her-

“You don’t happen to be an artist, do you?”

“Of course I am. I play music. Guitar.” I sigh in relief. This is the sort of line of question I can answer relatively easily. “I don’t need drugs to help me with that.”

...crap.

Crappitycrapcrapcrap.

She knows. And I can tell that she knows, this beautiful snow nymph, the way that she quirks her eyebrow and half-pouts and the way the snow around her swirls like an unstable vortex of locusts, the way her wings are spreading and multiplying and shining with alabaster light.

“Sunset Shimmer.” The nymph said. “This is Sunset Shimmer I’m talking to, yes?”

“Yes! Yes, this is totally she.” I confirm.

“I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me, sweetie. Do you think that you can do that?”

“I can...try. I’m not sure it’s going to make sense to you.” I can feel my tail drooping. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not quite sure what they call it on your side of the portal, but this isn’t the first time that I’ve met a passionate and creative pony who has...entered the sort of state you seem to be in now.”

“I promise.” I can hear the whine in Sunset Shimmer’s voice and I hate it. I hate me. “I promise this has nothing to do with trying to have a good time, Rarity. You have to believe me.”

“Then what? What is it about, sweetie?” Rarity snorted.

“I’m not a good pony, okay? I don’t belong here. I don’t belong here at all. And I know that if I let myself dwell on that, then I’m going to end up getting so miserable that I do something stupid and ruin the party for everyone. But I didn’t want to ruin Hearth’s Warming for everypony else by turning it down and making Twilight worry, so I just thought...I thought if there was a way that I could still be here, but things could be pleasant, then I wouldn’t cause a fuss by accident. Everypony could be happy, nopony would have to worry. Hearth’s Warming could be saved. I just needed…”

I fight back the urge to cry. I don’t trust my tears to not start screaming as they shatter against the floor.

“I needed to not mess everything up in Ponyville. Not again.”

The tiles of the Royal Canterlot Bathroom Floor are doing a curious job of spinning clockwise like a blender and remaining perfectly still at the same time. I need to watch them. I feel like if I try to look Rarity in the eyes, I’m gonna wind up throwing up, anyway.

Wait, whose hoof is that on my shoulder? Is it Rarity’s? What is it doing there?

“Of course you belong, dear. Everypony belongs.”

Sunset Shimmer shook her head. “What, in this place? This is supposed to be, like, perfectville. Everypony has a perfect life, perfect clothes, perfect families, everything. Perfect ponies. Rarity, this universe isn’t mine anymore.”

“Dear, the only reason Equestria has any value is because it accepts ponies who don’t feel perfect. I don’t feel like I should have to give you a spiel about the elements of harmony to-”

“Tell you how they fight off evil?”

“Tell you how they protect other ponies. Make them happy. Do you seriously feel like you’re the only pony that’s ever put anypony else in danger? The only pony that feels like they have no place in our country?”

“I…”

I decide to not tell her about how her gossamer wings have changed to beautiful, dovelike constructs. I’m pretty sure that’s symbolic for something, I dunno.

“We’ve all done things we’ve regretted, dear. But the point of this dance is to forget all of that - at least for a while. We deserve to be happy. If nothing else…”

Rarity’s smile could have melted a diamond. I could practically feel the rainbow in my heart, and if I had fingers at this point, I would have crossed them and hoped that the glow wouldn’t have irritated her porcelain eyes.

“I think you deserve to be happy, dear. Just think of this party as a family get-together, okay? Think of us as family.”

…

Sunset Shimmer nodded. I nodded. But...but that’s okay, I think. Rarity understands.

Her understanding horn glows, and the unscrewed bottle screws itself back in. Her understanding hoof reaches up, touches my less-than-understanding hoof, ignores how the texture’s started to go a bit paisley.

“Won’t you come dance with me? I’m sure that you’ll have more fun with a third dance than with the first two.”

She’s right, and it’s so compelling to marvel at how right her sentence was that I don’t even notice that she’s dragged me outside the bathroom until i’m on the outside. And there I am, marvelling at the surreal beauty of the stunning lights and thrilling music and otherworldly atmosphere of pure harmony that it takes me a little bit to notice, takes me until Rarity’s pulled me back onto the ballroom floor:

The lights, the music...the prettiness they have. I’m not imagining any of that. Not hallucinating any of it at all. It’s been there, was there, and I didn’t need help in seeing any of it.

Not the kind I was thinking of, anyway.

"Derpy, Be a Dear and Save Hearth's Warming" [to Olden Bronie, from Vivid Syntax]

"Hm…" Her horn alight, Rarity levitated a spherical ornament a hair's width to the left. Its polished, red exterior glistened with her magic, and the gold filigree near the top was as delicate as it was beautiful. With a quick flash of her eyes, Rarity's surveyed the entire Hearth's Warming tree. Every other ornament had been put in its place, and it looked nearly perfect.

Nearly. Rarity grunted.

With a sigh, she looked around the ballroom in Twilight's castle. The preparations were coming along nicely. Most of the tinsel wound up and ready to be hung, a few wreathes had been stored near the entrance, and several boxes had been wrapped and placed tastefully near the walls (Pinkie Pie insisted that each one have a real gift inside). A fire crackled softly in the fireplace, filling the room with warmth and a gentle glow. Rarity smiled particularly smugly at the bows and ribbons that framed the doorways – nopony could match her precision when it came to chiffon lace. For a moment, Rarity sighed contentedly.

And then Derpy Hooves burst through the front door. "Rarity!"

Rarity turned back to the ornament and floated it half a hairs' widths to the right. "Inside voices, darling."

"But Rarity!" Derpy Hooves tried to run towards her, but as she picked up momentum, her wet hooves slipped on the crystalline floor. "Uh-oh!" She barreled towards Rarity, legs flopping around, and she fell forward onto her face with a muffled "Look out!" as she crashed into a pile of wrapping paper. After a moment, Derpy Hooves righted herself and shook out her mane. "Uh… Sorry, Rarity."

Rarity didn't even take her eyes from the tree. "Oh, no bother at all, Derpy. The design on that paper is absolutely ghastly, anyway." She groaned as she floated the ornament a quarter hair's width up, then set it back into its box. "Now, what has you tracking snow into the ballroom at this hour?"

Derpy's expression drooped. "Uh… That." She pointed to the still-open door, and Rarity turned to see a stampede of Windigos terrorizing the town.

Rarity floated her reading glasses to her face. "I see."

Derpy cocked her head to the side. "Aren't you… going to do anything?

"I'm sure the other Elements can handle it." Rarity fluffed the needles on the tree branch she'd been working on.

Derpy grimaced and said, "But… they all started arguing and got frozen in a big block of ice. Even Spike!"

Rarity rolled her eyes. "Typical," she said flatly. "It's a shame I'm so busy, then."

Derpy stood up and trotted over. "But Rarity! You need to save the town!"

With a sigh, Rarity floated her spectacles onto her horn. "Now how am I supposed to do that and get everything ready for the Hearth's Warming celebration?"

Derpy looked around. "It looks great so far, Rarity, and I bet if you saved the town, everypony could come help you finish in time."

"But that's just it, darling!" Rarity began pacing back and forth in front of the tree. "I need to set everything up so the can help! Everypony's going to show up tonight for Hearth's Warming Eve, burst through the door, and start singing some impossibly complicated musical number, and they'll expect to be able to help while they sing!"

Derpy raised an eyebrow. "So, why can't they just do that?"

Rarity whipped around and gasped. "It would be chaos! Late entrances, props spilling out onto the floor, not to mention the how badly the accoustics would be thrown off if all the tenors got distracted by the lights again." She stood tall and turned up her nose. "Hmph! No, it simply won't do. I need to make sure everything is perfect."

Derpy shrunk. "But there won't even be a Hearth's Warming unless–"

Rarity held up a hoof. "I'm sorry, darling, but the answer is no. Now if you'll excuse me, I really need to get back to work." She floated her glasses onto her face and turned back to the tree. "Be a dear and save Hearth's Warming, won't you, Derpy?"

Derpy's eyes opened wide, but then, a broad smile spread across her face. "You mean… you want me to–?"

She picked the ornament back up with her magic. "That's right, Derpy. I believe in you."

Derpy hopped to her hooves and gave a salute. "I won't let you down!" She dashed out the door.

"Ta-ta!" Rarity sang, floating an ornament an eighth of a hair's width downward.

The citizens of Ponyville screamed as they ran back and forth across the town. Horse noises – horrible, horrible horse noises – tore through the air, riding a shrieking wind. The ice and snow bit at everypony's skin, and as more and more of them yelled cries of frustrations and anger at their friends, they became slowly encased in ice.

"We're doomed!" Minuette shouted, ducking behind a hot nut cart. "I didn't even get to give Thunderlane the new soup ladle that I sold my favorite timepiece for!"

"I know!" Thunderlane yelled, diving to Minuette's side. "And I didn't even get to tell you I sold your second-favorite timepiece for a new soup kettle!"

They screamed in unison as the nut cart exploded under the weight of a titanic icicle. Thunderlane threw a wing over Minuette's back, and they rushed away, nearly bumping into Cheerilee and Berry Punch in the middle of town square.

Cheerilee waved a hoof and yelled over the blizzard. "Turn back! They've already taken the schoolhouse!"

Berry Punch leaned in. "And the mulled wine's gone cold!"

A Windigo neighed loudly and dove at them, and the four ponies hit the dirt, barely dodging the Windigo's attack.

Minuette looked frantically around. "Where can we go?"

Cheerilee's tail whipped back and forth. "I don't know!"

"Maybe if I had some Fireball…" Berry Punch mused.

Thunderlane shook his head. "We need to… Wait! What's that?" He pointed to a red, glowing light that hovered above a rooftop and shone through the blizzard. "Is that…"

Minuette smiled. "It can't be…"

Cheerilee beamed. "It is!"

They all cheered. "Derpy!"

The fog cleared, and with a big wave, Derpy called back, "Happy Hearth's Warming, everypony!"

Berry Punch raised an eyebrow. "What is she wearing?"

On the rooftop, Derpy adjusted the glowing, red crystal that she'd affixed to her nose. Her fake antlers were nearly falling off her head, but she held them up with her ears. Her coat wasn't the usual grey; it had been colored a light brown on her back and white on her belly, and the bubbles on her cutie mark were painted white, as well. She wore red jingle bells all over her body, and a large, brown saddlebag was strapped to her back. "Sorry I took so long, everypony!"

The four ponies blinked at her.

"...but Rarity said you could all use some help!" She swooped down towards the other ponies. The wind knocked her around, and she crashed on top of Thunderlane. "Oops! Sorry, Thunderlane."

Thunderlane groaned. "No problem." He crawled out from under her and shook off a layer of snow. "But what are you doing here? And what's in your bag?"

"Your presents!" Derpy shouted brightly. She stuck her head into her bag and pulled out four envelopes. With her mouth full of paper, she mumbled, "Forry they're a little fhort. I had tuh hurry."

Minuette, Cheerilee, and Thunderlane looked at each other. Berry Punch looked vacant. Slowly, though, they all reached out and and took one of the letters.

Cheerliee squinted at the writing on the envelope. "To Somepony Special." She looked up at Derpy. "Are you sure this is for me?"

Derpy nodded emphatically.

The other ponies looked on as Cheerliee opened the envelope. The paper crinkled, and she took out the letter that was inside. "Dear Cheerilee: I know everything seems hopeless right now, but even if we all end up frozen in a block of ice, I…" She trailed off and felt her chest swell. "I hope you know how important you are to everypony in town. The students of Ponyville love you, and so do I." Cheerilee teared up and smiled a shaky smile. "You… really think I'm important?"

Derpy continued nodding emphatically. Nopony was sure she'd ever stopped.

Cheerilee smiled warmly. "Thank you, Derpy." She chuckled. "Or should I say Deerp–"

"No, you shouldn't," Minuette said flatly.

Thunderlane quickly opened his envelope. "Dear Thunderlane: You're an inspiration to everypony in Ponyville. We all look up to you, and we'll cheer you on at every single Wonderbolts show forever. Yours, Derpy." Thunderlane laughed to cover up a sob. "You… you mean that?"

Derpy was still nodding.

Thunderlane's lip quivered. "Thanks, Derpy. Hey, can I get a hug?"

Derpy nodded one more time and threw her forelegs into the air, and the ponies were so relieved, so overjoyed that somepony was thinking of them, that they hadn't even noticed the wind had stopped blowing where they stood.

Thunderlane rushed in and gave her a tight squeeze, and the other ponies in attendance felt a warm glow surrounding them.

It wasn't just them, though. Soon, ponies began peeking out of their hiding places and swiveling their ears to hear what was going on. Then, as they felt something spark inside them, they moved closer. It was only a few at first, sneaking out of their homes, but then a steady stream of them, and then a massive crowd, all gathered in the town square, clamoring to see what was happening.

Derpy saluted her four friends. "Duty calls!" She took off into the sky. "Whee!" As she circled upward to gain some height, she reached into her saddlebag and pulled out more letters. Though it took her eyes a moment to focus, she read each one, then flung it down to somepony in the crowd.

A loud cheer rang from the crowd, and hooves flew into the air to catch their letters. Young and old, filly and colt, everypony wore the same, bright expression, and their laughter and thanks drowned out the quickly-fading sound of the blizzard all around them. They formed small groups and took turns reading their letters, and everypony else listened intently, eager to hear what kind words had been written about their friends. Their joyful sounds could be heard all throughout the town.

"Dear Sugar Belle: You're always welcome in our town, too. Here's hoping we see plenty more of you!"

"Dear Roseluck: Your flowers always make me smile. We should hang out together sometime, just you, me, and the Doctor!"

"Dear Braeburn: Even after all these years, everypony's still just so darn happy for you. I think that's how the saying goes."

Laughter filled the air, and hugging filled the streets, and the clouds retreated from the sky. Derpy smiled wide, and her nose glowed brighter than ever.

But when she reached into her bag again, her stomach dropped. "Uh-oh…" she said, desperately pawing inside the empty bag. "That's not all, is it? What if everypony stops being happy? What if–"

She stopped in midair when she saw that Thunderlane's little brother, Rumble, was holding three letters. Derpy gasped. She hadn't written three letters for him. Was he just borrowing somepony else's? Everypony still looked so happy as he read those letters, but where did they come from? She was worried something had gone wrong.

But just then, she spotted it: Davenport had set up a table outside of Quills and Sofas! He'd laid out paper, ink, and of course quills, and ponies were taking turns writing each other even more letters. They talked excitedly among themselves about who they'd write a letter for or what they would say, and everywhere Derpy looked, there were smiles.

And that wasn't the only place where Derpy saw magic happening. Big McIntosh was rolling out a barrel of the Apple family's cider reserve, and his whole family was stoking a fire under a big kettle to serve it up nice and hot. The Cakes were passing out little treats, personalized with everypony's initials. Vinyl Scratch was blasting Hearth's Warming remixes, and even Snips and Snails were helping Filthy Rich distribute free investment advice.

What made Derpy's heart soar more than anything, though, was listening to all the ponies read the letters that they had given to each other. She flew around the town square, just listening to their excited reading.

"Dear Lyra: You the beeeeest frieeeeend I could ever hope to have."

"Dear Maud! I'm so excited to spend Hearth's Warming here with you in Ponyville! DO YOU SEE HOW EXCITED I AM????"

"Dear Matilda: I can't believe we've been married for over two years. They've been the happiest of my life."

"Dear Olden: Your enthusiasm for all the Ponyville writing events is infectious. I can't wait to read your next story!"

Feeling the warm sun on her back, Derpy spiraled down to a small opening in the crowd, and Minuette, Thunderlane, Cheerilee, and Berry Punch all ran up and gave her another hug.

Berry Punch pulled away and wiped some cider from her mouth. "Derpy, this is amazing! You saved the whole town!"

Derpy blushed and kicked at a small pit of snow. "Aw, I didn't do much. Just sent a few letters. Everypony else helped a bunch, too."

"By the way," Minuette said. "How did you write all these letters in such a short time?"

Derpy shrugged coyly. "Well, to be honest, I already had most of them done. I was just saving them." She winked at Minuette with both eyes. "You never know when the world will need a little kindness."

Cheerilee beamed. "That's a lesson I think we could all stand to learn. Thank you for saving Hearth's Warming, Derpy Hooves."

Thunderlane swooped in and hoisted Derpy into the air, then called to the crowd, "Two and a half cheers for Derpy Hooves! Hip-hip!"

The gathered crowd cheered in unision. "Hooray!"

"Hip-hip!"

"Hooray!"

"Hip!"

"Hooooo!"

Basking in the love of everypony around her, Derpy barely heard Berry Punch say to Minuette, "So, we gonna head over to the castle now, or…"

"Oh goodness!" Derpy gasped, leaping into the air. "It's already Hearth's Warming Eve! I need to warn Rarity that everypony's almost here!" Without a glance back, Derpy raced back towards the castle.

Rarity floated the ornament a one-thousand-twenty-fourth of a hair's width away from the tree. "Perfect!" she squealed.

The door to Twilight's castle flew open. "Rarity! They're coming!"

Rarity hung the ornament in its place and turned towards the door. "Welcome back, Derpy. You're looking rather…" She eyed her up and down. "…festive. Did you save Hearth's Warming?"

Derpy – wiping her hooves this time – trotted into the castle and let the door shut behind her. "Uh-huh! I did! But now everypony's on their way here and… woah." Derpy looked around the castle. Boxes were arranged evenly around the room, ribbons were ready to be hung, and strings of lights were placed in neat little rows so they could be easily put up in time with seasonal music. Derpy stopped in front of Rarity. "How did you do all of this so quickly?"

"Multitasking, darling." Rarity flipped her mane.

"Well, it looks wonderful. But, did you forget something?" Derpy pointed to the top of the tree, which was still completely naked.

Rarity smiled. "I'm glad you asked." Her horn began to glow, and a small box floated between them. "Since you did such a good job saving Hearth's Warming, I was wondering if you could do me one last, teensy-weensy little favor." She floated to the box closer to Derpy.

Derpy quickly sat down, took hold of the box, and opened it. Inside was a star – the star that would be placed on top of the Hearth's Warming tree. Derpy beamed. "You really mean it? I get to put it on top?"

Rarity nodded politely.

"Thank you, Rarity!" Derpy shouting, pulling a very surprised Rarity in for a tight hug. "This is the best Hearth's Warming ever!"

And as they embraced, the doors to the castle flew open. Ponies rushed in, their hearts aglow, and they all began to sing.

Clover Honey [to Pwnego, from AugieDog]

"And there I was!" Starswirl thumped the table with a hoof, the entire tea service and the plate of decorated Hearth's Warming sugar cookies jumping up with a rattle before dropping back with a crash. "All alone and facing fifteen of the biggest bog monsters you've ever seen!"

Twilight's teacup wavered in the glow of her horn. "Serpens paludum?" she asked breathlessly. "Or belua olens?"

Starswirl snorted. "Serpens paludum?" He waved his own teacup at Celestia reclining to Twilight's left against the most amazingly garish pillow: little bright-green pine trees set against a cringingly red background. "What have you been teaching this child, Celestia?" Snatching the teapot in a second beam of magic, he poured himself a refill. "Those little marsh wiggles aren't monsters! Why, we used to floss our teeth with 'em!"

"Truly?" Luna took a delicate bite of the silver-frosted crescent moon floating before her. "After all these centuries, finally a solution to the mystery of your unusual breath."

His beard prickling, Starswirl turned his glare to her, sitting across the table from Celestia. "Once, I would've asked you to respect your elders, young lady. But now that you're more than a thousand years older than I am, I suppose I must take my own advice, smile pleasantly, and indulge you in your dotage."

Celestia's laugh rattled the crockery every bit as much as Starswirl's thump had, and Twilight couldn't stop a giggle of her own. In the several moons since Starswirl's reappearance, Twilight had heard Celestia laugh like that more often than in all the years she'd lived here in the palace as a student. And while Starswirl still seemed more than a little grouchy most of the time, Twilight was starting to see how much of that was him playing the part of the great wizard, a role he'd created for himself so long ago.

He was a great wizard, of course, and just getting to talk magic with him recently had opened Twilight's mind to so many possibilities. Even better, though, during their talks, she'd been able to bring up a few points that had set him blinking and furiously scribbling notes onto conjured pieces of parchment. And now, sharing tea on Hearth's Warming afternoon in Celestia's room high atop Canterlot Tower, the fireplace crackling merrily behind her and snow tumbling big and flaky past the window? Twilight had rarely felt more like a princess.

Giggling again, she reached for one of the little jars on the tea tray and held it up to where Starswirl was stirring his cup. "Some honey for your tea, Starswirl?" she asked in her most gentile tones.

The whole room seemed to freeze, Luna and Celestia both stopping in mid-chew, their eyes going wide. The spoon in Starswirl's cup clattered to a standstill, the scowl lines on his forehead smoothing for an instant before his brambly eyebrows drew together like storm clouds gathering. And while Twilight's ever-present internal chronometer assured her that the silence only lasted a heartbeat and a half, it seemed to go on for days and days and days, her throat tightening, the little jar getting heavier and heavier.

But then Starswirl took a breath, set down his cup, and smiled in a way that made Twilight wonder for the first time just how old he really was. "No, thank you, my dear," he said, his voice somehow sounding dusty in her ears. He rose to his hooves, nodded to Celestia and Luna, and turned for the door. "It's been an eventful day, however, so with your permission, I shall withdraw to my room for the evening."

Looking as weightless as a cloud, he more drifted toward the door than walked, and Twilight could barely stop herself from asking what he meant by evening. Yes, it was the first day of winter so Celestia and Luna would be switching places earlier than at any other time during the year, but it was still afternoon by any proper measure!

The door to Celestia's chamber pulled open ahead of him, and he stepped outside, the tiny jingle-jangle of the bells around the brim of his hat fading till the sound cut off with a click, the door closing behind him.

Looking from the door to Celestia to Luna and back to Celestia, Twilight let the jar of honey clatter to the table. "What did I do wrong?" she asked.

"It's, umm..." Celestia's mane, billowing to cover half her face, and her sudden speechlessness made Twilight think of Fluttershy. "It's not your fault, Twilight," she finished after several more long seconds.

"Alas." Luna sighed. "This time of year has always brought out the melancholy in him, and understandably so. After all—"

"Sister!" The unaccustomed sharpness in Celestia's voice, the narrowness of her eyes and the slight baring of her teeth folded Twilight's ears. Celestia recovered quickly, though, everything about her softening again in an instant. "Surely you'll agree that it isn't our story to tell."

Luna's lips pursed, and for a moment Twilight thought she might start arguing. But instead, she only said, "I suppose."

With a nod, Celestia touched her own chin. "Now that he's fetched up once more upon the shoals of time, however, it might do him good to tell that story. And since Luna and I have already heard it..." She arched an eyebrow at Twilight.

It took Twilight another heartbeat and a half to realize what Celestia was saying, but then she surged to her hooves. "Oh! Yes! I— He was going to his room, didn't he say?"

Celestia shook her head. "Given what day it is, I'm certain you'll find him at the cave."

The shiver that iced down Twilight's spine made her wings spread partway. "You...you mean the cave from the Hearth's Warming story? It...it's a real place?"

"Of course." Even now, Celestia's smile sometimes made Twilight feel like she was six years old. "You've been there."

Luna gave a dry chuckle. "Several times, in fact."

Things clicked together in Twilight's head, and she couldn't stop a gasp. "The cave beneath your old castle! Where the Tree of Harmony is! That's the cave from the first Hearth's Warming?"

"It is." As always when Celestia's smile faded, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. "Thank you for doing this, Twilight. He...he's become quite fond of you, you know."

That brought the warmth back to Twilight's chest, and tossing her mane with a nonchalance she didn't feel, she said in her best Rarity voice, "Well, I am the Princess of Friendship, am I not?" She dropped the pose, stepped over to nuzzle Celestia, then did the same to Luna. "Thank you for inviting me this afternoon. I'll see you both later."

With a flare of her horn, she stretched her perceptions out from Canterlot across the fields and meadows of Equestria to the edge of the Everfree Forest and into its heart, the Tree of Harmony a beacon to her magical senses. Puffing the teleportation spell through her mind like dandelion fluff, she whisked away from Celestia's room and crackled into existence at the bottom of the steps carved into the stone wall of the chasm below the old castle.

Even with the Plunder Vines gone and the Tree's influence spreading, the Everfree remained very much a separate place from the rest of Equestria. The pegasi had brought snow to the entire country weeks ago, after all, but here, the cold air stayed still and dry under the close, gray clouds. Twilight fluffed her wings and wished she'd brought a scarf.

But the cave mouth ahead glowed an inviting bluish-silver, and Twilight trotted forward, amazed to think that all those years ago, this had been the very spot where—

A shadow just inside the opening brought her up short, her eyes adjusting to the dimness and showing her Starswirl standing there with his head bowed. She swallowed and asked as gently as she could, "Starswirl?"

He started back, his head snapping over, his eyes wet and wide, a single whispered word jumping from his lips: "Clover?"

More pieces clicked together in Twilight's head, but before she could do anything more than open her mouth, his eyes were narrowing, his face scrunching into something close to his usual scowl. "Oh. Twilight." He shuffled his hoofs against the stone of the cavern's floor, but Twilight could still hear him sniffle as he turned away. "Surely you've somewhere warmer to be?"

"I—" Not sure how to begin, she decided to go with the truth. "I never knew this was the cave where everything happened, Clover and Pansy and Smart Cookie and the beginning of Equestria and all."

"Oh, yes." He waved at the Tree, the Elements of Harmony shining like crystalline fruit in its branches. "That's why the Pillars and I planted our seed here. Of course, that was long afterward, but the magic those three conjured up was so bright and strong, I swear I can still feel it."

Twilight slid about half a step toward him. "You must be very proud of Clover and her accomplishments."

"Proud?" Starswirl shook his head, the jingle of his bells almost lost in the echoes of the place. "That's much too small a word. I was blessed to have known her for the few years she was my student." The sound he made then could've been either a cough or a laugh. "Still, I've often thought that's why she did so well during the crisis that struck them in this cave. If she'd had more of my training, Pony history would've ended right then and there." Cocking his head, he glanced back at her. "Celestia tells me you've sometimes played Clover in the pageant."

The memories made Twilight smile. "Oh, yes. I asked Starlight Glimmer to take the part this year, and, well, you saw what a wonderful job she did. It really brings history alive, really makes you feel connected to the ponies who are so responsible for the world we live in today."

Starswirl was nodding, but his own smile sat very thin on his lips. "Then perhaps you've noticed over the years who isn't a featured character in the story?"

Blinking, Twilight wasn't quite sure what to say. "Well, according to the history books, you were away on one of your journeys when the wendigos drove the three tribes out of—"

"History books!" Starswirl snorted. "Another task I must see to now that I've returned: correcting their egregious errors!"

As much as Twilight wanted to do a little dance at the thought of learning more of the hidden truth of the world, Starswirl's sour demeanor stopped her. "Then...why weren't you there for the first Hearth's Warming?" she asked.

"Because I'm a fool!" He stomped hard enough to shake the stone. "A blind, pompous, ignorant fool!" He spun to face her. "The disaster that brought all Ponykind to the very brink of extinction, and I abandoned my student to face it alone due to my own monumental stupidity!"

Catching her breath, Twilight couldn't stop herself from taking a step back, but Starswirl had already whirled away again, his eyes wide and unfocused. "I took Clover on as apprentice during a time of relative peace between the tribes to assist me in my exploration of time travel magic. She was brilliant, of course, organized and disciplined and able to spot the questionable passages in any spell she so much as glanced at."

His sigh seemed to come all the way up from his fetlocks. "And I of course resented her terribly, this young mare daring to raise concerns about my work. I did everything I could to belittle her comments, then pored over my pages after she'd left for the day, more often than not adjusting my calculations in exactly the ways she'd suggested.

"This only made me resent her further, so once my magnum opus was complete, I only gave her the scroll two minutes before performing the first experiment: I was to travel forward several centuries, take a look around, then return to my workshop a mere ten seconds after I'd left."

"But—" Twilight said, then clamped a hoof across her mouth.

He shot her an arched glance. "Clover immediately raised several objections as well. I told her she was a faint-hearted filly, activated the spell, hopped through the portal, and found myself tumbling down a snow-covered hill in the middle of a frozen wasteland."

Not daring to remove her hoof, Twilight had to close her eyes.

The echo of his voice lapped around her like waves in a pond. "I activated the recall sequence I'd built into the spell four times before I rolled to a stop, soaked and shaking and covered with ice, but as you can guess, it didn't work in the slightest. Well, not 'guess,' I suppose, since you're undoubtedly familiar with time travel theory, how traveling forward is the simplest thing in the world—we all do it every second of every hour or every day, after all. But traveling backward..."

When he trailed off, Twilight cracked her eyelids to see him looking at her with that thin smile again on his face. "Yes, well." He cleared his throat. "I came to understand the miscalculation I'd made during the three weeks it took me to hike out of that tundra to the fringes of a land I'd never heard of before, a land the ponies living there called Equestria. Turned out they'd heard of me, however, and I quickly found myself being escorted south to the city of Everfree and a lovely palace where two young alicorn sisters lived; they'd recently taken over raising the sun and moon from the Council of Unicorns and had been proclaimed the land's princesses."

His smile got even brittler. "And that's when I learned how far into the future I'd come and how impossible it was for me ever to go back."

"Not impossible!" Unable to keep silent any longer, Twilight flared her wings and leaped into a hover. "I used an amazing short-term spell once—" She winced as she remembered who she was talking to. "Which you invented. Probably so you could—" Sighing, she dropped to the stone floor. "I'll be quiet again."

A breathy sound made her look up: Starswirl laughing gently. "You remind me of Clover a great deal, you know." He cocked his head. "You're a bit flightier, of course, but, well, it's the wings, I imagine."

Her own laugh took her by surprise, and she could feel her face heating with a blush.

"But yes," he was going on. "After several decades working with Celestia and Luna, I cobbled together that little reversal spell and landed in my workshop a day or two after I'd left. I had just enough time to tell Clover that I was safe, that I couldn't return, that she'd been right about the limitations of that first spell, that I was sorry for the way I'd treated her, and that I knew she was going to have a wonderful life."

Silence drifted through the air like snow, Twilight not even wanting to breathe, Starswirl's gaze again not focused on anything as far as she could tell. "Then I was back in what had become my present," he said, "and she was sealed forever in the history books as one of the legendary founders of Equestria." His voice got quiet. "I've never missed a performance of the Hearth's Warming pageant, but every year, when I think of how I failed her—"

"No." Jumping forward, Twilight wrapped him in a hug. "Take it from a pony who's been the awkward student of a famous teacher. Going back and telling her you were sorry and that she was right were the best things you could've done under the circumstances. I can't imagine anything she would've treasured more at that moment. Well, I mean, other than you being able to return and be her teacher again."

Starswirl's breath puffed against Twilight's ear as something between a snort and a sigh. "Yes. Well." His forelegs came around to give her an uncertain squeeze, then she let him push her away, a definite pinkish tinge to his white hide. "That's very kind of you to say. Perhaps someday I'll actually come to believe it." He raised his voice. "And perhaps a certain pastel-headed harridan of our mutual acquaintance will someday come to realize that she's grown much too bulky to successful lurk eavesdropping outside caverns!"

Twilight snapped her head around, an oh-so-familiar fresh-water scent tickling her nose and an oh-so-familiar chuckle tickling her ears. A sparkling shadow moved in the light of the cave mouth, and Celestia stepped through, the silver-blue glow of the place becoming more golden. "You have such a way with words, Starswirl," she said.

He snorted again, but it was one of his good-natured snorts, Twilight could tell. "And you have almost as clever a former student as I have." He shook himself, his bells jingling. "We've not done too badly for a couple old pieces of cosmic driftwood, have we, Tia?"

Celestia's snort sounded almost exactly the same as his. "Speak for yourself, professor! Some of us are lumps of basalt rather than anything so ephemeral as driftwood!"

"Basalt?" Starswirl stroked his beard. "Pumice, I'd say instead: light and crumbly and good mostly for smoothing the rough edges off things."

"Really?" Celestia took a step forward. "Like, say, a certain rough old chunk of cosmic driftwood?"

His eyebrows bristled. "I take it all back." He waved a hoof at Twilight. "That this child turned out as well as she did I shall attribute to her having memorized my writings before you seized her in your hideous clutches."

"Yes." Bending down, Celestia nudged his hat forward so the brim covered his eyes. "You do that."

And as much as Twilight could've sat there all day listening to the two of them banter, she found she still had a question. "But what about the honey?"

They both froze, but this time, Starswirl gave a breathy laugh. "Clover," he said. "She was extremely particular about certain things, and clover honey was one of them. Try to substitute, say, some orange blossom or blueberry honey in the cruet at breakfast, and be prepared for an all-day lecture on the vital differences between the various varieties." He sighed. "The aroma of clover honey always stabs me through the forehead like an ice pick."

The clicking of her thoughts this time made Twilight smile, and she leaped to her hooves. "Baklava!" she exclaimed.

The other two blinked at her. "Thin layers of dough," she went on, "wrapped around a spiced filling of chopped nuts that're then baked and smothered in honey. My grandmother always used to make it around this time of year." She activated her horn. "We'll stop by my parents' house to pick up the recipe, then we'll put some together in the palace kitchen, and you can tell us all about the real Clover the Clever." Extending her magic, she looked back and forth between them. "Sound good?"

Celestia's smile grow as steadily as the rising dawn, and her hornglow wrapped warm and perfect around Twilight's. "That sounds like an excellent idea."

Starswirl gave another snort. "Yes, well, our esteemed princess will always support any vaguely cake-based solution, won't she?" His horn flared as well, his silver fire reaching out to join their mingling purple and gold. "But I can't think of a better way to spend the evening."

"Late afternoon," Twilight said, tripping her teleportation spell and carrying them all away.

Dragons Like it Hot! [to GapJaxie, from Akataja]

Dragons like it hot! Very hot! Darn it, they are taking baths in liquid lava and live on volcanoes! So why should a dragon fly trough a snowstorm, shivering in cold and rubbing her scales with her claws to warm a little up? Because her best friend is more pony than dragon and she should hate him right now and right here! On the other hand, he was like the cute little brother she wished for and he could not know how troublesome flying is.

In their last conversation Spike spoke only about this pony celebration, Hearth's Warming. “Yeah, to hell with warming, I should be sleeping in my nice coy volcano right now,” she grumbled to herself. Yes, grumbling helped some times. But she was curious., Spike was a smart dragon and she wanted to see why he made such a big fuzz about this celebration.

When it became too cold she had to land because her wings hurt too much and the cold wind blew stronger and stronger. She had no fear, but she knew this would be a hard trip and it would take long. She was looking for a shelter to wait for this darn storm to pass and she found it: a cave where there was already a burning fire inside.

“Oh! Hi Ember!” said a bear that was in the cave.

Ember was taken aback. This was Ember’s first time to meet a speaking bear, no wonder the Dragon Lady was surprised. “How are you doing, please come inside, I just made a fire,” said the bear.

“Eh.... okay? Do we know each other?” Ember just wanted to get closer to this warm fire. The time for questions would be later.

“Oh! I am sorry, I totally forgot,” said the hairy creature. A magical flame around the bear changed the wild furry beast back to a changeling, Thorax. “It is easier for me to travel through this weather in this form.”

“Woah! I knew this bear was familiar!” thought Ember. She did not know much about friendship, but it was good to see a friend.

“So, you are going to Ponyville too? For Hearth’s Warming?” asked Thorax.

Ember took a seat in front of the fire to warm her claws “Yes... but only for Spike, Dragons don't go out during snow and cold.”

“I totally understand that, my folk is used to dick deep into earth and sleep during this time of the year.” Thorax looked with a smile at Ember. He only met her once before, attacked her in his bear form and finally learned some important things about leadership and friendship thanks to her. She was a special female and to be honest he had thought a lot about her. He reflected on many things since he had turned his back to Chrysalis but Ember was one of the few things that made him feel good when he thought about it. “Also... it is a holiday about love and loving each other, right? Maybe this could really help my folk.”

“This whole love and friendship thing is somehow new to me too. Dragons usual don't need such things. We rule each other through over powering and also the most of us live alone. Also when it comes to mating we just take what we want and hope the other one is weaker... and a year later there is a new egg.” Ember told him like it was nothing special.

Thorax blushed a little. “Yes... I... understand. Changelings just live together and when we need more population the queen calls for some random males... but that does not take a year.”

“But you have no queen anymore.”

“Yes,” the changeling looked in another direction. “We are working on that. Maybe we can find another solution for this, using love or friendship to regulate these things, like ponies do,” he looked slowly back, “have you ever thought about such things?”

“Why should I? The dragon way is always the best way!” Ember nearly laughed, but just to the outside. The truth was she thought often about it. Choosing a male depending on other things than his strength? Or spending more time with him than what’s absolutely needed? That was nothing like what her father showed her and there were many things done better than what the way her dad did. “Also I have no other choice, I only have one friend and that is Spike and I could never... I mean... he is still a baby dragon and like a brother to me.”

Thorax had no idea why he had to speak the following words but he did “I don't think he is your only friend, at least when you are asking me.” Now both of them blushed and it became all silent in the cave, only the sound of the burning wood was audible. “I mean I see you as a friend and... I didn't want say that you and me and... I... I should shut my mouth now.”

This was awkward and embarrassing. Normally dragons just fought and then followed the call of nature, so maybe this was the first time a dragon was speaking about relationships and such, maybe except Spike, but he was more pony than dragon and did not count. “No, it is fine. You are right, we are friends and I like you... even when you are the most female-like male I’ve ever met.”

“Eh... thank you?”

“No! No! I didn't want to be rude! Maybe you are not like a dragon, but you are brave enough to protect your friends, unless when it goes against crazy Changeling Queens or even against me! You are no dragon, but I really think that is not bad.” That meant a lot to Thorax, coming from embers mouth.

“So... the storm becomes stronger. I am afraid we will miss this Hearth’s Warming. We will be stuck in this cave till tomorrow,” said Ember.

“Oh no! I promised Spike I would make it!” Thorax sighed, “I feel bad about this.” He let his head sink and sigh and it seemed like his bright colorful chitin (what is this?) became a bit darker. Was he really that sensitive?

“Do not worry Thorax, Spike is a good guy and will understand.” Ember tried to smile for him, somehow it felt good helping him, being important for someone without using claws, fangs or flames. Ember had to embrace herself, as the storm blew stronger and it got even colder in there.

Thorax saw her shivering and changed back to bear, without any word he walked over to her and sat behind her, to cover her from the wind. Also his fur was very comfy and soft and normally Ember wouldn’t have like it, but normally Ember would not leave her homeland in such weather. She leaned back and he gulped when he noticed her feelings. They were very endearing. “Huh... Ember...?” ventured Thorax.

Ember turned around slowly and put her claw on his mouth “I am done with talking. Just be silent and let me... feel good.”

This was a night Thorax would never forget and neither would Ember. In the end the storm did not bother them and they were all warm and cozy even when the fire burned out.

When the sun rose, Hearth’s Warming was there and in Ponyville ponies were exchanging all sorts of gifts and enjoyed the play to the founding of Equestria. Some young couples were kissing shyly under mistletoe and Twilight and her friends were singing cheerful songs under the huge decorated tree in the middle of town. Everypony was happy, also Spike, but the little dragon was still a bit sad that his two friends Ember and Thorax could not make it. He waited with the ritual Hearth’s Warming breakfast for over two hours, but they didn’t show up. His friends were happily unboxing they presents in the castle and drinking hot cocoa under the tree when they saw that Spike was sighing sadly. They were a bit confused, that Spike was sighing sad.

“Hey, Spike, I am sorry they could not make it.” That was Twilight, she had always been like a mother and a best friend for him, so no wonder she put her warm cozy wing around him and gave him a nice hug. “The Lands of Dragons and the Lands of Changelings are both far away and both folks don't like the cold, I bet they really wanted to come.”

“And they will!” shouted Ember. The blue Dragon Lady kicked the door open to make a huge entrance scene. “Nothing will make a dragon break his promise!”

“We are sorry for being late,” Thorax walked behind her. Compared to her, he was very silent but still audible “There was a storm and we had to wait.”

Spike was super happy to see his friends, he run over to hug both and the ponies followed him soon. Everyone was happy now and that was the best present for Hearth’s Warming, right?

“Hey, pssst... eh... white pony,” Ember spoke quietly to Rarity after everypony was gathered over the room again. “Where do you female ponies go when you need to be alone... desperately?”

“Oh!” Rarity blushed, but just a little, because a light blush looked marvelous on her precious white fur. “Upstairs, down to the left and second door on the right side, darling.”

It was Embers first time on a toilet, Dragons didn't need such things, but she already knew how keys worked so she could close the door and do what she had to do. It took quite long. It also hurt, but Ember was a strong Dragon Lady and she went through it without screaming and it the end she really did it. She held it with her two arms. It was still warm from her body temperature and a bit slimy, but she was very proud of it, her first egg.

Dragons are no chickens, so fertilizing an egg and laying one was a bit complicated. Usually Ember just went through this time of the year with the pain in her belly, like every female dragon which was strong enough to fight against the upcoming males. But this year was different.

She was sitting exhausted on the toilet, holding her egg and stroking it gently. It would take around a year until the baby inside was ready to hatch, so maybe it would hatch around next Hearth Warming? That would be a nice surprise. Ember had to smile and even to giggle “Well, happy Hearth’s Warming, Thorax.”

The Lesson of Hearth's Warming Eve [to FamousLastWords, from RhetCon]

It’s about that time of year again. When the radios start playing the jingles, and the Hearth’s Warming spirits start to come around. From the dawn of the moon to the eve of the holiday, everyone everywhere is busy. Presents are being bought, feasts are being prepared, and moments should be shared.

At least, that’s what Flitter expected Hearth’s Warming to be like. Instead, it was much colder than the others were. Being stuck out here for so long made her wings ache, and the falling snow clung to her far too easily. As soon as she reached her destination, she shook herself free of the snow. Her hooves touched the ground and the cold sent a shiver up her spine. She brought a hurried hoof to the door in front of her and waited patiently in front of it.

“I’m coming!” Flitter tilted her head slightly and raised an eyebrow. Whoever that was, it wasn’t Twilight, and they were taking an awfully long time to open the door. Flitter raised her hoof to knock again, but the door opened slightly before she could hit it. Flitter looked inside to see who opened it but didn’t find anypony. “Oh, er… Hello.” Spike pushed the door open fully and brought attention to himself.

“Spike?” Flitter remembered seeing him briefly many moons ago, but she never held a proper conversation with him. “I, uh, was hoping to see Twilight.” Spike shook his head.

“Twilight’s not home right now. You can come in and wait for her, though.” Flitter sighed. Of course Twilight was out for the holiday season. Still, at least she didn’t have to wait outside. She smiled and walked past Spike and into the foyer of the castle.

Flitter had never been in the castle proper. Even without the lights strung up near the windows, and the ornaments dangling from the ceiling, Flitter could imagine this place looked grand. The windows were caked with snow and frost tinted the windows a cool blue. Best of all, it was warm. The snowflakes stuck in her wings melted away, and the heat seeped into her bones.

“Twilight and Starlight went out to get some things for the party we’re throwing tomorrow night.” Spike trudged through the castle grounds, heading further inward. Flitter followed quietly. “They both went, so it shouldn’t be long before they’re back.”

“That’s good.” She twirled her hoof. “I shouldn’t waste too much time here, anyway.”

The two broke into the main chamber of the castle. The entrance and hallway seemed like they just threw something together in comparison to this. The main attraction was the tree branches stretching all over the ceiling, holding lights and streamers, and ornaments galore. The simple pine tree her and Cloudchaser put up back home paled in comparison.

“Living with two really powerful ponies around does have its upsides,” noted Spike, realizing her awe. While they moved further inward, she made a mental note to bring Cloudchaser here sometime. Well, if Twilight would let her, that is.

She barely noticed the tiny dragon walk over and hand her a mug of something. She looked down at the warm flagon that he placed against her foreleg with cider sloshing around in it. “We were supposed to open that up tomorrow, but I’m sure Twilight wouldn’t miss a drink or two.” Flitter smiled and grabbed the flagon by the handle.

“Thanks!” She sat down on the carpet and sipped from her flagon. It tasted like liquid gold. Easily recognizable as the Apple Family Cider. Spike sat down right next to her, lifting the flagon up and to his chin. “Are you alone in the castle? What are you doing here?”

“It’s not the first time I’ve housesat. Twilight leaves to go on adventures all the time.” He pointed towards the ceiling. “The tree is actually pretty neat. It doesn’t need water, doesn’t grow where we don’t need it to. The worst thing that could happen is that Owlicious needs to be fed.”

“Looks like you’ve got it made.” The two sat in silence until they finished their drinks. Spike took them after they were finished and put them back into the kitchen. “Looks like Twilight still isn’t here. Maybe I should come back another time.”

“Something probably came up,” said Spike. “They can handle themselves, but you’ll have to wait longer.” Flitter bit her lip.

“I suppose you could help,” said Flitter, getting up onto her hooves. “Do you know any books that foals would like? My sister and I are supposed to be reading them to the kids up in Cloudsdale, but Chaser forgot and left it up to me today.” Flitter chuckled a bit.

“If it’s a book you’re looking for, you’ve come to the right dragon!” Spike gestured down a hallway to the right branching away from the main room. “Library’s just down this way.” Flitter clapped her hooves together and followed after him. “I’ve been around Twilight my whole life, which means books are my specialty.”

“Great! I should’ve asked from the start.” The two walked down the hallway before reaching the door they were looking for shortly. It was larger than the doors around it, but Spike pushed it inwards without a problem.

The inside was dark and expansive. Flitter could only see a few bookshelves right in front of her. She looked down at Spike who didn’t seem too disturbed and started following behind him. He stepped on a crystal snowflake on the floor and light poured up the sides of the room and into a large chunk on the ceiling. The rows and rows of books were lit up under the crystalight immediately.

“Whoa,” said Flitter. “Can I have one of these?”

“Yep. All for the low, low price of saving the world once or twice.” They shared a laugh. Spike looked at the stacks and began running a claw along their spines. “So, a book for foals. I think we have a few lying around.”

“About Hearth’s Warming, preferably,” she added, as he ran down the aisle, keeping an eye on the books he was passing. After a minute, Spike disappeared behind a stack of books. The minutes ticked by where Flitter could even hear him. She tilted her head and stood up. She slowly trotted over to the bend where Spike disappeared just in time for the small dragon to pop out of a stack of books just behind her. She jumped into the air, looking down at Spike from the top of the bookshelf with shock written on her face.

“I got a book!” said Spike, pushing it up at Flitter. She sighed and landed quietly. “Oh. Sorry for sneaking up on you like that.”

“Oh, uh, It’s fine.” Flitter gave him a smile before taking the book under her wing. The cover didn’t have any words on it, but the first page said the title. “Erm… I don’t think I can use this book.” Spike looked confused.

“Uh… why not?” Flitter showed him the cover title.

“I don’t think the foals will like to hear me talk about Stephen King’s ‘It’.”

“Really?” asked Spike confused. “Twilight read this to me when I was a baby…” Flitter looked down at the book, wondering just what Twilight thought “for foals” meant. She shook her head and handed the book back.

“Maybe I should come back another time.” she put her hoof to the goggles that were resting loosely on her neck. “I’ve gotta go check on Chaser anyways.”

“Is something wrong with Cloudchaser?”

“No, she’s fine,” Flitter answered quickly and dismissively but continued. “She doesn’t like it when I leave the house alone, though.” She didn’t say anything else and pushed her goggles up to her eyes. The two headed out of the library (the lights shutting off after they left). Before long, Flitter was back at the front door, Spike trailing behind her.

“Well, when Twilight comes back, I’ll tell her you stopped by!” Flitter nodded and walked over to the door. She tried to push it out, but it wouldn’t budge. How had Spike gotten these heavy doors open? “Oh, let me get that for you.” Spike walked up to the door and pushed up against it. “Uh, that’s weird. The door is blocked.”

“S-So we can’t get out?” Flitter said, glancing down nervously. “Is there a window I could fly out of, or something?”Flitter went to the nearest window and tried to open it. The window was frozen shut, and even though frost covered it from view, outside was a pearly wasteland of snow. If enough snow had been stacked to block the doors, she was sure someone up in the clouds put too many of them together. She ran a hoof through her mane.

“If Twilight and Starlight got held up by the snow, who knows how long it’ll take.”Spike walked up beside Flitter and glanced out of the window. “And on top of all of that, it’s still snowing…”

Flitter sighed while she looked out of the window. She put her hoof against the cold glass, hoping that this whole situation would blow over soon. Spike gave her space, watching her silently.

Minutes ticked by seamlessly, neither moving to interrupt the other. Wind and snow whipped against the glass outside.

Spike stood still, head tilted. Flitter seemed to have withdrawn from her surroundings. Her ears were flat against her head, her head was pressed firmly against the glass, and against the background, her coat seemed gray. Finally, after waiting for long enough, he stepped over.

“Twilight always tells me that getting something off my chest will help me,” said Spike. “And, well, she was right. So, do you have something you want to talk about?” Flitter raised an ear on his approach, but it fell back down after he finished speaking.

“It doesn’t… It’s not really… How do I say this?” Flitter pulled her head from the glass and looked down at her hooves. “It’s not something about me. It’s my sister.”

“Cloudchaser, right?” said Spike, taking a seat on the windowsill. Flitter

“Can we head back?” asked Flitter. “I put my head against the glass for too long, and now I’m really cold.” Spike nodded and led the two back into the main room. Flitter sat down just across from Spike. She ran a hoof through her mane a took a deep breath. “You might want to get comfortable. It’s kinda a long story.”

“I’m all ears,” said Spike, waiting silently. Flitter sat for a moment, collecting her thoughts. She wondered if it was really okay to just lay her problems bare for a borderline stranger, but she’d already gotten this far. She sighed one last time before telling Spike what had happened many Hearth Warmings ago.

The Everfree forest is always played up as the big bad, scary place that no sane pony would ever want to go to. And, more often than not, it is. But, when everyone else stays inside for the holidays and snow blankets the town, Flitter leaves her home and heads there.
She’d been doing it for a few years and had never been caught before. Even this year, she was old enough to leave the house on her own and set off wherever she wanted. Even still, she didn’t like to lie, so she’d say she was off to get something from the market and go there after she was done.

But she did go there, almost every year since she first found out how beautiful it could be.

The snow was perfectly clear. Not a hoofprint before Flitter's. There was something special about being the first person to set foot here, every year. She’d always thought about bringing Chaser here, but she probably wouldn’t appreciate it like she did. For now, playing around in the snow was all she wanted to do right now.

Walking around, she could see the normally dull and dark forest shining from the white snow. At this time of year, there were no animals. They’d all gone into hibernation. Still, though, Flitter knew to keep diligent. Always ready to fly off at any moment.

Flitter could spend hours roaming the frozen forest, exploring, wondering. But It was very easy to get distracted. She’d only really noticed something when the shadows began to overtake her vision. When she looked up, hundreds of feet above her, dark clouds were being pushed into place by the weather ponies. When she looked behind her, some of the clouds had already begun the excess snowfall. Flitter stared up at the clouds.

“Why is there more snow?” she asked, slowly fluttering into the air. She looked at the town, so far away now that the buildings were almost dots on her vision. She started slowly at first but picked up soon after. She’d noticed too late, though, and soon, her vision was clouded with the flurries of snow as it hastily whipped through the wind. Flitter began to regret her decision. She hadn’t even brought her goggles. She grumbled in the flurry. She couldn’t see five feet in front of her, but she had the general direction of the town, so she wasn’t too worried.

Still, though, the unease of being caught in snowstorm weighed her down a bit. Her wings were beginning to cake with the snow, and she found herself having to fly lower and lower to even try to keep herself in the air. She began to panic. Her heartbeat became sporadic and frantic as she tried to beat her wings hard enough to stay afloat. She’d been doing this for so long. How could she not be there yet?

Just as she thought she couldn’t continue, she felt a sharp pain run up her left wing, and down her back. Worse still, she spun out of control, brushing against branches before slamming back first into a tree. When she fell onto the snow, a cool chill ran up her bruised body. Cuts and scrapes stung all over her and even thinking about moving sent pulses of pain throughout her body. She couldn’t think straight. Her body refused to move. Snow began to cover her as if nothing had ever happened, and the tree she hit was slowly beginning to settle again.

The snow fell silently. The forest was quiet. Flitter was becoming numb. Her heartbeat shook her entire body. But, her heartbeat became stronger and stronger still. Soon, the forest shook with her, a large wooden paw dug into the freshly fallen snow. It was almost surreal. Seeing a Timberwolf this close was something no ordinary pony would ever do, but its glowing eyes were staring directly at Flitter. By now, her wings were covered by quite a bit of snow. Even if she used all her strength now, there was no way that she’d be able to get up and fly away.

Maybe this was where the story should end.

Flitter closed her eyes and let the dull ache of her body carry her to sleep.

Spike sat in silence as Flitter finished her story. He was on the edge of his seat, even though he wasn’t sitting on anything. Flitter had stopped speaking, and her head was tilted downwards.

“What happened after that?” asked Spike quietly.

“The last thing I remember is my sister finding me,” Flitter beat her wings once, showing them off. “My wing was messed up pretty bad, but it healed in a few months. I don’t even have any the cuts from the accident.” Flitter pressed a hoof against her temple and shook her head. “The most surprising thing is, every time I think about it, I remember it being really pretty. Despite everything, I remember it being a good time Maybe that's just me being weird." She chuckled a bit. "But Chaser… she took it hard. She wouldn’t leave my side for a while.”

“So now you’re worried that she’s worried about you?” asked Spike. “That’s kinda confusing.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” said Flitter. She smiled. “Actually, when you put it like that, it makes us seem crazy.” Spike shook his head.

“I don’t think that’s crazy,” said Spike. “Actually, I think it’s kind of cool that you still want to fly. If anything like that happened to me, I would be way to scared to go near an inch of snow.” Flitter listened quietly.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” Flitter smiled and beat her wings happily. “Nothing scares me anymore.”

The door outside opened with a thumping sound as it hit the walls to the side. The two looked over at the two figures just in front of the door. It was kind of hard to tell from a distance, but the two were certainly who they thought they were.

“Twilight's back!" Spike shot up and began running towards the door. He was already over there by the time Flitter decided to get up. "What happened to you guys? How'd you get the door open?" Twilight, who was looking completely exhausted, waved Spike away with her hoof.

“Oh, I just had a little runaround. The usual Hearth's Warming fare," Twilight. “And the door?” She pushed the door open slightly to demonstrate. "What's wrong with it?" Spike blushed. He never thought to check if the snow was cleared away afterward. While he was looking at the open door, Twilight glanced above him. “Flitter is here as well. I suppose it’s for me?” Flitter approached the three and nodded.

The two began to strike up a conversation. Almost as soon as she entered her library, she got the book Flitter was looking for. After all that had happened that day, she was relieved to find out that her problem was easily solved in a matter of minutes. Then again, she was kinda embarrassed that she'd been stuck in someone else's house for almost an hour because of it.

Now, she stood at the door, book in her bags and goggles strapped to her face. She flapped her wings a few times before pushing open the door to the outside. The warm interior was blasted away by the cold and the wind was bitter, but the snow was no longer falling. The sky was clear, sun shining down on the white, and making everything gleam.

“They really did clear the doorway, huh? Sorry about that.” Spike poked his head out from the doorway. He was here to see her off. “Oh, I completely forgot to ask you.” Flitter tilted her head to the side. “Have you been back there since? You know, the place in the forest.”

“No,” she said. “I've kinda bee avoiding it, I suppose.” Flitter ran a hoof through her mane. She'd never asked herself that. Why hadn't she gone back?

“If you ever go back, take pictures for me. I wanna see how cool it looks." Flitter paused for a moment then nodded. "Merry Hearth’s Warming!” Flitter watched as he closed the door behind him, and she was left to the cold once again. She stayed for a few moments but then took off towards the clouds.

As she was flying now, she was going to make it home soon. But, as she ascended, she looked to the outskirts of town, where the Everfree forest was. She thought of how the snow must have looked this time of year. Even better, it had just snowed. No one would be there yet.

She kept the image in her head all the way home. She'd reached the cloud her house rested on in no time. She planted her hooves on the cloud and stood there, waiting to make sure that she was doing the right thing. If she looked down now, the Everfree Forest's snow-topped trees could blend in with the snow on the ground. She walked to her door and pushed it in.

"Hey Chaser? I'm back!" She nodded, finally coming to the conclusion she'd been thinking about. "Get ready to go out! I want to show you something!"

Applejack Doesn't Know Wood Comes From Trees [to RhetCon, from totallynotabrony]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gabby Griffon realizes that with all the things she did to get a cutie mark, she never attempted a relationship.

Even as good as Gabby is at everything, getting someone special to spend the holidays with isn’t exactly straightforward.

In fact, it might take risking her life for reasons that don’t make any sense.

TEEN
COMEDY/ ROMANCE/ ALTERNATE UNIVERSE/ APPLEJACK/ GABBY/ PINKIE PIE/ CMC

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Gabby arrived in Ponyville bright and early on Hearth’s Warming Eve. The locals had already decorated and the town had turned into a sensory overload with sights, sounds, and smells in abundance.

Gabby herself had gotten in on the spirit. Her grey plumage wasn’t festive on its own, but she’d replaced her usual feather tie on the back of her head with something more colorful. Maybe later she’d even add bells, if she was really feeling the holiday spirit.

“Ohmygosh, Gabby! Happy Hearth’s Warming!” A pink ball of what was either fuzz or cotton candy enveloped Gabby.

“Pinkie!” Gabby laughed, returning the hug. “Nice to see you.”

Pinkie Pie pulled back, grinning broadly as her mane fell in her eyes. “I wasn’t expecting you. I totally have to throw you a party!”

“I’d love that,” Gabby said. “I have to meet up with the CMC now, but I’ll be back later.”

“It’s a date!” Pinkie agreed. She waved goodbye and bounced away.

While griffons weren’t a common sight in Ponyville, Gabby had made a name for herself around town. That was what happened when one hung out with the Cutie Mark Crusaders. In fact, that was who Gabby had come to see.

The three fillies - Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo - didn’t seem to be in town, but Gabby had a good idea where to find them. Spreading her wings again, she took off for Sweet Apple Acres.

The old treehouse in the orchard had been converted into Crusader headquarters. It was here that Gabby had first met the Crusaders, and where she’d learned her true purpose in life.

She’d initially come to earn a cutie mark of her own, but that was a little difficult because griffons didn’t get them. Still, everything had worked out well, and more importantly, Gabby had made new friends.

The three fillies were happy to see her. They all shared a group hug, and Gabby opened her saddle bags to reveal some griffon scones she’d brought with her.

They caught up for a few minutes, eating scones, talking, and laughing.

“So what are you girls doing for the celebration today and tomorrow?” Gabby asked.

“The usual for my family,” said Apple Bloom. “We’ll make our crocheted dolls and hoist the first flag of Equestria.”

“I’m going with my parents and Rarity to visit our grandparents,” said Sweetie Belle.

“I’m having Hearth’s Warming with Rainbow Dash!” Scootaloo’s wings buzzed.

“What about you?” Apple Bloom asked Gabby.

“Well, Hearth’s Warming isn’t as well developed over in Griffonstone,” Gabby explained. She smiled. “But I’m always willing to learn.”

“You’re old enough to have a date, right?” said Sweetie.

“I...I guess I am,” Gabby allowed. “I never really thought about it.”

“You’ve never had a special somepo-somegriffon?” asked Scootaloo.

Gabby blushed and rubbed the back of her head. “With all this helping others that you taught me to do, I may have forgotten about me.”

“Well, I wish we could do something.” Apple Bloom frowned. “But the three of us are just about to leave for other places.”

Gabby waved a foreleg. “Don’t worry about me. Dating is supposed to be personal, right? I can handle it.” A nervous look gradually slid across her face. “I think.”

“There has to be something we can do for her,” said Sweetie. “I know, we can at least help you learn the basics.”

“We don’t know the basics,” Scootaloo pointed out.

“Maybe there’s a book you can read?” Apple Bloom speculated.

“Hey, yeah, I know exactly who would know about dating!” said Sweetie. “Twilight Sparkle!”

“I don’t know anything about dating,” said Twilight. “But here’s a book.”

“Thanks!” said Gabby. She took the proffered book and glanced at it, cocking her head. “But I’m not sure what I’m supposed to learn from Advanced Biology.”

“It’s...very comprehensive,” said Twilight. Her tone changed and she quickly asked, “Are you going to the party tonight?”

“She sure is!” Pinkie shouted, popping out of a flowerpot and somehow bringing a Hearth’s Warming tree and a table full of confections with her.

“I mean...staying for the party, I guess,” muttered Twilight.

Guests were already arriving, having gotten the word about an impending Pinkie Party. Pinkie shoved a glass of punch at Gabby, seemingly still wearing the same grin from earlier in the day. “So how have you been?”

“I’ve been great,” said Gabby. “But I couldn’t wait to get back here. By the way, what are you doing for Hearth’s Warming?”

“My family has some ancient traditions for the holiday.” Pinkie rapidly listed them off. Each seemed to somehow involve rocks, but Gabby listened intently.

Pinkie stopped for breath and asked, “So how about you?”

“Well, I don’t have any, but I’m always willing to learn,” said Gabby. “I was even thinking about...getting a date.”

Pinkie gasped. “Ohmygosh, that’s so adorable! I can totally help you hook up!”

“Thank you!” Gabby gave her a quick hug. “So how does this work, do you just help me find someone, or…?”

“Do you have a preference?” Pinkie asked.

“I’m not sure.” Gabby put on a thoughtful expression. “I’ve never dated before.”

“Great, because that makes it way easier.” Pinkie pulled her closer, lowering her voice. “I’m going to hook you up with Applejack.”

“What!?” gasped Gabby. “Apple Bloom’s sister?”

“What’s the deal?” said Pinkie. “She’s your age. She’s totally your opposite, and opposites attract, right? And hey, even if it doesn’t work out, at least you had a date for today, for Hearth’s Warming. And most importantly, she came to me about this exact same thing!”

“Okay,” Gabby agreed. She looked across the room, easily spotting the hat-wearing Applejack inspecting the pies on the refreshment table. “I guess I’ll just go talk to-”

“No!” Pinkie pulled her back. “There needs to be some intrigue, some mystery. You two need to naturally come together as if we didn’t just plan this.” She pulled out a folded slip of paper and gave it to Gabby. “This treasure map contains all you need.”

“Okay…” Gabby glanced at the paper and put it in her bag. “I’ll get started.”

“And one more thing.” Pinkie pulled Gabby back again. “You need to remember this. It’s important. Applejack doesn’t know that wood comes from trees.”

Gabby blinked. “Wait, what? How can a farmer, one with an entire orchard full of apple trees, not know that wood comes from trees?”

“Applejack loves trees, Gabby.”

“And she doesn’t-?”

“No.” Pinkie took Gabby’s face in her hooves. “This is important, Gabby. Don’t ruin this. Applejack can never know. No matter what you do, don’t let her know that wood comes from trees.”

Gabby nodded. “Okay, I got it.”

She disengaged and squared her shoulders, ran her talons through the feathers on her crest, and made her way across the room. Behind her, Pinkie grinned and waved.

Applejack wore her trademark hat and a knitted scarf. She held a mug of warm cider. She saw Gabby coming out of the corner of her eye and turned. “Hey there, Gabby. Apple Bloom said you stopped by earlier.”

“That’s right,” Gabby confirmed. She tried to hide her nervousness and plan how she would steer the conversation.

“Oh, and Pinkie was looking for you,” said Applejack.

“She found me,” Gabby said.

Applejack grinned. “She can be a bit much sometimes, huh?”

“She sure can,” Gabby confirmed.

“She was goin’ on about something earlier, something about a treasure map,” said Applejack. She pulled out a piece of paper.

“Oh, Pinkie gave me one too,” said Gabby. She unfolded the paper Pinkie had given her.

The two of them stared at the pages. Unfolded, they appeared to be two halves of a map. Slowly, they brought each side together, meeting in the middle where it had been cut.

“What’s this?” Applejack wondered, her voice low.

“Was Pinkie serious about a treasure map?” said Gabby.

They glanced at each other and then back at the map.

A dotted line traced from Ponyville up north into the mountains. It crossed rivers and climbed hills. It eventually ended on a lone mountain top. At the X-mark, there was a small drawing of a tree and the caption Best Hearth’s Warming Tree of all Time.

“Well, that sounds impressive,” said Applejack.

“Wow, I wonder if we could get there by tonight?” said Gabby. “I mean, what if we could somehow-” Her thoughts stopped suddenly. Applejack didn’t know wood came from trees. Did that mean she had never cut down a tree? Did she love trees too much to hurt one? If so, bringing the tree back to show to everyone on Hearth’s Warming day wasn’t going to happen.

“We could go look at it,” Gabby finished.

“Sounds good,” Applejack allowed. “Maybe we could-” she paused in thought. “No, all my family already has plans. All my friends, too.”

“I’m your friend, and I don’t have plans,” Gabby offered, heart hoping.

Applejack smiled. “Well I guess that’s right. You want to go see that tree?”

“I sure do!”

The two of them finished their drinks. Pinkie appeared. “Hey you two, going somewhere?”

“We’re going to follow the treasure map,” said Applejack.

“Cool! Well, I packed some snacks for you to go.” Pinkie gave them a bundled package. “Have fun!”

Gabby and Applejack walked out. It was still daylight, but the shorter winter days meant that wouldn’t be true for too much longer. Their breath hung in the cold air.

“That looked like a fair hike,” said Applejack. “If we hurry, we can get there and come back by nightfall. The pegasi hadn’t scheduled any weather today.”

“Sounds good,” Gabby said. Neither of them noticed a few snowflakes falling.

They headed out of town. Gabby stole a look at Applejack. Could this be her date? Was it a date if Applejack didn’t know it? When would be a good time to discuss it? Was it something that needed to be spoken? She began to realize that maybe this dating thing was going to be more difficult than she thought.

“So how are you getting along with the CMC job?” Applejack asked, startling Gabby out of her introspection.

“Oh, I’m doing just fine. Griffons can be a little standoffish, but I can be stubborn too.” Gabby laughed.

“Well, I suppose we have something in common there,” Applejack chuckled. “The whole family’s been trying to tell me how to run my life lately.”

“Oh, what do you mean?”

“Well…we had some plans made for Hearth’s Warming. Big Macintosh, my brother, was going to bring his marefriend. Granny Smith is pretty traditional, but I think it’s mostly that she just wants to help. She started to practically throw colts at me. I couldn’t stand it. A date isn’t something other people plan for you, it has to come natural.”

“Oh.” Gabby’s heart felt like it was seizing.

“So what did you have in mind for Hearth’s Warming?” Applejack asked.

“Oh, uh, nothing.” Gabby quickly took the initiative. “So I’m glad you invited me on this little adventure!”

“Heck, you practically invited me,” Applejack laughed.

They started through the forest indicated by the map. Even though the sun was up, the thick trees made it seem like dusk.

“What do you think this tree is like?” Gabby said.

“Good question,” said Applejack. “It must be pretty good, though. Even if Pinkie made that map herself.”

Applejack suddenly came to a stop. She threw out a hoof, blocking Gabby’s path. Gabby turned her head to ask why, but saw Applejack’s ears straining.

Applejack gestured with a hoof and lowered her body to the ground. Gabby mimicked her, still wearing a confused look.

And that’s when Gabby saw what had Applejack so concerned. Three timberwolves passed through the trees up ahead. It was a fair distance, Gabby’s eagle eyes had only just barely spotted them.

“Timberwolves,” she whispered, just a hair louder than breathing.

Applejack nodded imperceptibly and replied just as quietly, “I didn’t think they were in this part of the forest.” She paused, and then added, “You can see them?”

Gabby nodded.

The two of them remained there for a minute, until neither could detect the timberwolves.

Applejack let out a breath slowly. “We’re almost out of the forest. Do you want to keep going?”

Gabby nodded.

They hurried along.

The air was turning colder as the sun dipped closer to the horizon. Gabby and Applejack had made it out of the trees and started across the bare snow of the side of the mountain, climbing towards their goal. The wind was mercifully low.

“We don’t have to go all this way,” Gabby offered, glancing up the slope.

“We’re already halfway there,” Applejack pointed out. “And the sooner we turn back the sooner we might run into those timberwolves again.”

“You never know. The CMC were teaching me a few things after all the trouble they’ve gotten into. We may get lucky and be able to make friends with the timberwolves.”

Applejack chuckled. “You sure you aren’t a pony? That sounds like something Fluttershy would say.”

“Well, you’re the one who wants to keep climbing a mountain in the middle of a winter evening,” said Gabby. “You remind me of stubborn griffon.”

“Well, I guess you’re still here too,” Applejack said, nudging her side.

The two of them traded amused looks, eyes lingering together.

The snow started to deepen as they pushed on. A place where the wind had blown the loose snow clear showed ice beneath.

“Is this a glacier?” Gabby said, glancing at it.

“Is it?” Applejack asked.

“I think so, it’s all ice under here. Glaciers form where the accumulation of snow exceeds its ablation and just builds up into a pack that can last for centuries.”

Applejack’s eyebrows went up.

Gabby blushed. “Sorry, I studied glaciology with your sister and friends when we were trying to get cutie marks.”

Applejack waved a hoof. “I don’t look down on intellectuals. I just never needed to know much besides apple trees.”

“You know a lot about trees?” Gabby asked, keeping the conversation going.

“I reckon I know everything there is to know about trees,” Applejack allowed. “I’ve been workin’ with ‘em all my life. I like it. I never was looking for more. I guess maybe you don’t feel the same. Apple Bloom tells me you’ve tried just about everything, getting yourself well rounded.”

“Well, I like apples too,” Gabby quickly put in.

“‘Course you do.” Applejack grinned. “But there ain’t nothing wrong with doing your own thing.”

The two of them suddenly stopped short, hearing a low rumble. There was nothing in sight but endless snow and darkening sky.

“What do you-” Gabby began but was cut off when the ground beneath them suddenly collapsed.

She fell into the hole first. Applejack tumbled over and managed to hook her forehooves on the edge of the ice, spitting and shaking her head as loose snow dumped on her. Flailing, Gabby managed to catch Applejack’s tail. The package of sweets Pinkie had packed for them fell out of Gabby’s pack and down into the abyss.

Applejack grunted in pain but held fast. Gabby looked upwards, blushing in spite of the situation. They hung precariously in the ice fissure that had opened up. “This crevice is too narrow to spread my wings!”

“Can you climb?” Applejack panted, still hanging on but beginning to slip.

Gabby reached up and caught Applejack’s back leg. She then grabbed the other one before shifting her grip to around Applejack’s hips right over her cutie marks. Pausing to catch her breath, but only briefly, she continued on up.

Making it out on top, Gabby braced against as much of the ice as her claws could catch and hauled Applejack up. The two of them fell backwards, breathing hard. Sweat quickly turned to ice the longer they laid in the snow.

A few seconds passed.

“Thanks,” Applejack muttered.

“Thank you,” Gabby replied.

The two of them got up. The crack in the ice was just wide enough to jump across.

“Bad luck in a shifting glacier,” said Gabby. “They usually don’t move so much. We can get back.”

“We’re practically there,” said Applejack, pointing up the slope.

“You seriously want to keep going? It’s dangerous up here!”

“I’ve got your back if you’ve got mine,” Applejack offered.

Gabby looked at her, and flicked her eyes towards the top of the mountain, barely within sight and lit by the setting sun. “Alright. I’m in. But let’s take a break first.”

She went for her pack but saw that it was open and the snacks were missing. “Sorry, all I have are scones.”

“I’m sure they’ll be just fine.”

The two of them ate quietly, but quickly. Daylight was running out.

Finishing, Applejack got up. “Thanks, that was great. I’ll have to make you an apple pie some time.”

Gabby smiled. “I look forward to it.”

They kept walking.

As the two of them climbed, the sun sank even lower. Gabby found herself increasing her pace, trying to get to the top of the mountain before it set.

A figure of something came into view. It began as a dark shape, taking on a triangular appearance as they got closer. It was the tree.

Both of them began to walk faster. If anything, it helped keep them warm. The wind had started to pick up. They detoured around a shallow cave, winding their way to the very top of the mountain.

The details of the Hearth’s Warming tree emerged as they approached. A fuzzy red blanket swaddled the trunk, spreading out like a rug on the ground. Gold and red tinsel was strung in spirals and shiny ornaments the color of the whole rainbow were hung on the branches. Soft lights twinkled among the needles. A brilliant star adorned the peak, reflecting the light of the setting sun.

“Ain’t that something,” Applejack breathed.

“Yeah,” Gabby agreed, too struck to say anything else. “How did all this stuff even get here? It took us all afternoon to walk to the top of the mountain.”

Applejack just shook her head.

The two of them turned, having arrived just in time for the sunset. Princess Celestia might have known they were watching, as much art as she put into it this evening. Gold, to orange, to red, to finally purple as the sun set for the night.

Gabby turned back, seeing the tree again. If anything, it looked even more beautiful at night. However, the wind picked up again, reminding her of the chill in her extremities. “This is lovely, but we need to get going.”

“That’s a long hike to make at night,” said Applejack. “Especially if we fall in another hole or meet some timberwolves.”

“We can’t stay all night up here,” Gabby pointed out, fighting to keep her beak from chattering. “You’ve got to be cold.”

“Yeah,” Applejack acknowledged, rubbing her shoulders to stimulate warmth. “I didn’t want to say anything. You seemed to be enjoying yourself so much.”

“So that’s it? Freeze or face that kind of danger again, but in the dark?”

“There was that cave a little ways back,” Applejack said. “We could hunker down there for the night. Maybe build a fire.”

“Build a fire with wha-” Gabby came up short. She glanced around, her eyes fixing on the lone tree in the middle of the snow. “No, we can’t do that.”

Applejack rubbed the back of her head. “But then how-”

“We can’t build a fire,” Gabby insisted. “Here, grab that blanket.”

They disrobed the tree and hurried for the cave.

“I don’t know if this is going to be enough,” said Applejack, looking at the cold stone with a dusting of snow on the floor.

“We’ll...we’ll share our body heat inside the blanket,” said Gabby.

Applejack nodded. “All right. I guess we’ll have to get close.”

“I-I don’t mind,” said Gabby.

The two of them huddled together. Gabby tucked her wings around Applejack, pulling the blanket over them both. They carefully lay down at the deeper, less snowy part of the cave out of the wind.

“Well, it ain’t exactly a palace,” Applejack murmured.

Gabby laughed quietly. There was no need for volume, the two of them were so close together.

“I didn’t know feathers were this soft,” said Applejack.

“I...can actually poof more, if you want,” said Gabby.

This time it was Applejack’s turn to laugh. Even wrapped together under the blanket, there was room to get closer, and she did.

“Thanks for today,” said Gabby. “I really appreciate that you came with me.”

“I appreciate the invitation,” said Applejack. “I really liked getting to know you.”

“I like you.” It slipped out before Gabby could stop herself.

“I like you too, sugarcube.”

It was too dark to see, otherwise Gabby was sure she would have been wearing a blush. But she didn’t think Applejack would mind.

Outside, the snow blew around as the night got colder. It didn’t matter. Under the blanket was warm.

Some time later, Applejack heard a tiny sound on the wind and opened her eyes. Gabby was breathing steadily, their bodies still intertwined under the blanket.

Applejack turned her head just far enough to see the entrance of the cave. Through the darkness, she saw a pair of green glowing goggles with a pink, poofy mane above and white teeth grinning below.

She winked and smiled at Pinkie before snuggling back into Gabby.

A Very Merry Commmission [to DragonGeek, from Impossible Numbers]

Someone knocked on the front door. Repeatedly and enthusiastically, so that it sounded like a troupe of children’s entertainers had come calling and hadn’t decided which of them would knock on behalf of the rest.

The knocks echoed through the main shop, where an international consultation of dresses waited silently and proudly on various hangers and mannequins. Mirrors encircled a display platform, which could have been a ringmaster’s stand.

Next, the knocks reached the studio on the next level of Carousel Boutique, where fabrics and fashion accessories stood rank and file along the desks and shelves. A marching band they were – of all colours – waiting for the horn before going out for duty and for the delight of an audience.

And finally, the knocks reached the bedroom on the highest level, which was pink and lacy and in training to become a princess’s boudoir. Around the four-poster bed, Rarity the unicorn paced back and forth. Sketches floated about her head, and she levitated a pencil and made adjustments and quickly tried out a few new ideas and angrily crumpled and binned the failed ones.

At the sound of the knocks, she dropped everything and hurried downstairs. A lady prided herself as a gracious host. It was bad manners to leave someone waiting at the door.

She summoned her best welcoming smile, opened the door, and immediately hit a problem.

“Ah,” she said. “Derpy. I, uh, wasn’t expecting you so early.”

“I couldn’t wait!” Derpy, totally ignorant of refined manners, hopped and flew into the Carousel Boutique’s main hall without invitation. “I’m so excited! Where is it? Where is it? I bet it’s magnificent! Everything you do is magnificent!”

“You’re too kind.” Rarity winced as Derpy’s flapping wings threatened to topple a few nearby mannequins. She shut the door and tilted them back into position. “Though I must admit it was an…” Odd? Strange? “…an unconventional commission.”

Derpy dropped a package on the floor; Rarity winced at the thump.

“I got your delivery extra early today,” said Derpy, hunting through the display of dresses. “I don’t do that a lot, but you’ve been so amazing this week, I just had to. It’s the least I could do.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have – please be careful with that, it’s very delicate! – after all, one does what one can. You don’t have to – please don’t touch that, the fabric soils easily! – reward me for it, my dear. Erm, would you mind standing still for a moment? I’ll go and get your order for you, if you like.”

Something clattered. Derpy landed at once, prompted no doubt by guilt.

“Sorry.” She reached down and picked up the mannequin. “At least I’m getting better, huh?”

“Yes, you didn’t start a dominoes effect. Most commendable.”

“And you’ll get my order now?” Derpy’s eyes lit up.

“Of course. I know exactly where it is. No, no, don’t get up. I’ll be right back.”

Rarity ventured into the committee of clothes. In truth, her own incredibly detailed mental map of the floor was hardly needed. Derpy’s order stood out among the refinery and taste like a porcupine in a kitty cat sanctuary. It was horrible to think Derpy might not notice the quality difference.

Cringing a little, she levitated the lot off the mannequin, which she’d carefully hidden – no, placed – at the back of the collection. “Ah, here we are. Let me see… a Private Pansy wide-brimmed helmet with holly and tinsel decorations…”

“Private Pansy’s my favourite Hearth’s Warming founder,” said Derpy.

What, the bumbling good-natured side character? My word. What a peculiar and hard-to-explain choice, I’m sure. “How nice. I will admit to a soft spot for Clover the Clever myself, even if Princess Platinum has the most exquisite taste in jewellery. And what else? Ah, yes. A Hearth’s Warming woolly jumper with a picture of the three main founders on it.”

“And the Yew Tree Log,” added Derpy helpfully.

“And the Yew Tree Log, yes.”

“Oh, and the Old Equestrian Flag! And the little bobbly things and bells. And the holly-and-bauble pattern on green.”

“We pride ourselves on meeting the demands of the customer,” recited Rarity. That mantra had kept her going through the really tough times. “And lastly… the paper bag costume upgraded to – and I quote – ‘festive’.”

Which basically meant painting it red and adding faux ermine to the edges. Rarity shuddered. It was all for a good cause, it was all for a good cause…

“Brilliant!” Derpy stretched her wings out and jerked her head back, signalling for the clothes to land along the wide space provided. “I knew I could count on you, Rarity. You have a gift.”

Well, right now seemed like the best opportunity. Rarity took a deep breath. She would never fault the pegasus for her boundless energy, for the joy and happiness that shone out of her face, and certainly not for a little bit of bad luck that happened to follow her everywhere like an extremely vindictive storm cloud. But sometimes, she wondered if she should have a little talk with the girl. Sometimes, she wondered if Derpy – unintentionally, she was sure – courted trouble a little too easily.

“Erm,” said Rarity, not sure how to broach the subject.

“I’ve already set up the Hearth’s Warming decorations in my house,” said Derpy, putting on the paper hat. “Ooh, I like this fake fur stuff. What’s it called? Vermin? Mermaid?”

“Ermine,” said Rarity before she could stop herself. “Listen, Derpy –”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Derpy nudged the package, and another one fell out behind it. “I got a present for you early this year. In fact, I’ve got presents for everyone early this year. Which is really good for me! Mostly, I keep forgetting or getting them at the last minute. I think I’m improving.”

“Bravo! Well done! Now, look. I really must ask you –”

“Oh my, it’s going to be great. I’ve already talked to Pinkie and to Doc and to Twilight about sorting out the events this year. I bet Pinkie could make a whole gingerbread city this time! And Doc could make a machine that would play everyone’s favourite Hearth’s Warming carols forever and ever! And Twilight could light up the whole of Ponyville like a decorative tree! Wouldn’t that look amazing from Cloudsdale?”

Rarity looked at the second package. It was clearly something Derpy had wrapped. No one else could make a mere box wrapped in paper look like the result of a factory imploding. Bits of wrapping paper stuck out that were bigger than the package itself.

To her surprise, Derpy sighed dreamily. “I wish it could be Hearth’s Warming… every day.”

“Hm. I think it might spoil the magic a bit,” said Rarity. Oh my, she thought, what a terrible idea. Businesses closed every day, ponies struggling to find enough food and tinsel, carol singers with sore throats… Even Pinkie would crack sooner or later, with or without Twilight keeping it from collapsing after the first week.

As though expecting it to explode, Rarity summoned the “gift” to her side. There must have been at least five bows on the thing. Certainly, there was enough ribbon to wrap a mummy.

“Spoil the magic,” said Derpy sadly. “I guess so. But it’s so much fun; wouldn’t it be nice if every day was nice like that?”

Rarity put her hoof down, figuratively and literally as a stamp. “Derpy.”

“Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes!?”

Rarity took a deep breath. “You do know it’s the middle of summer, don’t you?”

Sunshine cut through the windows.

Birdsong twittered on. A butterfly fluttered past the glass.

And a small blush worked its way across Derpy’s face. “Yeah, yeah. I knew that. Um…”

The happy laughter of children playing outside. The notably festive “summery meadow” look of most of the clothes. The treetops outside which clearly still had their leaves. The calendar on the wall with the Summer Sun Celebration circled quite prominently.

“I just… uh, planned… to practice… Hearth’s Warming… ahead of time.” Derpy shuffled the jumper and helmet on her back; the paper hat began sliding over one ear.

“It’s half a year away,” said Rarity in what she hoped was a reasonable voice. “Some might think this practice a bit excessive.”

“Oh. You think so?”

“That would be my best guess, yes.”

“Ah, I see. This is one of those subtle social thingies, isn’t it?”

Rarity nodded, trying to convey that this was a reasonable inference for a sophisticated pegasus to make, rather than something so blatantly obvious a child could’ve pointed it out.

“Nevertheless, so long as you’re having fun…?” Rarity hung the question tantalizingly like a lifebelt.

Grabbing at this chance, Derpy eagerly said, “Yeah! Yeah! Absolutely. In that case, can you open your present now? I’d love to see the look on your face!”

“It would be my pleasure.” Rarity tried not to grimace as she ripped layer after layer off. Much as she’d wanted to peel back the wrapping in a delicate, careful way, she also wanted to have it untangled before the day was out, and sometimes brute magical force was a necessary evil, if a lifesaver in its own right.

The box opened itself in midair. Dreading what she might find, Rarity lifted the contents out. Felt light enough, and… oddly shaped.

“Ah,” she said when she saw it.

“I’m sure it’ll prove helpful on your quest!” said Derpy brightly. “I spent ages looking for the exact one.”

It wasn’t “so last season”. It had passed that stage several years ago. Of course, seasons came and went, came and went, came and went, but there were also seasons that had their time, as it were, under the sun, and then went and never, ever came back, for fear of the mockery they might receive.

Well yes, she’d worn one just like it – once – but the fashion world never looked back, except maybe to point and laugh. She’d had one of those… odd moods back then. Only that could explain why she’d ever felt a hat like this was likely to look good. Perhaps it had been Pinkie’s influence, or too much eggnog. Or Pinkie’s influence after too much eggnog.

The hat was certainly festive, she’d grant it that. Festive in the same way that wretched green jumper had been; in a way which made a dull, rainy, fun-free afternoon look positively welcoming.

“It’s very nice,” she lied, and was surprised the universe didn’t explode with sheer outrage.

“I call it the Yew Tree Hat!” said Derpy proudly. “It looks just like the one you wore when you did that Hearth’s Warming Pageant in Canterlot. Remember? The one you gave to charity?”

“I thought I’d burnt it,” said Rarity, but she was looking at the hat. Oh, it looked like a tree, all right. And there was an old tradition during the winter season, based around the Yew Tree: some festival, or something Twilight had mentioned once. That still wasn’t an excuse.

“Glad you like it!” said Derpy, who had the unerring inability to distinguish shocked delight from plain old shock. “Thanks again for the clothes, Rarity. You’re a star. Happy Hearth’s Warming! I mean, Six-Months-Early Happy Hearth’s Warming! Bye bye!”

The door slammed, and in accordance with Derpy’s constant bad luck, bits of the woodwork and doorframe cracked. Rarity sighed and opened the other – the official – package. Rare pegasus snowflake decorations, now smashed to bits.

She went upstairs to compose a complaints letter, careful not to mention Derpy’s name whatsoever. After all, the poor girl had enough problems to face as it was without laying more at her feet.

The hat was swiftly buried in a cupboard, which she coincidentally padlocked and blocked up with boxes and put up a sign nearby saying “beware of the leopard”. Then she removed the sign on the grounds that it would only attract attention rather than keep it away. And it was a bit excessive. She wasn’t even sure where she’d got it from.

Carefully, she licked the nib of the pen and practised her best writing, which made calligraphy look like a foal’s scribble. She dotted her “i’s” and crossed her “t’s” and added lots of little curly bits. A casual reader would struggle, but they’d at least admit it looked very impressive.

After a while, Rarity stopped. “Wait a minute…”

She blinked.

Eventually, she said, “What quest? What on earth was she talking about?”

The next day, Rarity cringed and scrunched up one of her many feeble sketches before throwing it into the wastepaper basket. What had she been thinking? Ribbons and rubies? It was a crime, it was an atrocity, it was an existential threat towards all things in good taste.

Well, OK, pink with red was a little tacky.

She fished the thing out of the basket and unfurled it again. Perhaps a slight reduction of the ornamentation would suffice.

Levitating her pencil rubber-first, she rubbed out the offending pencil lines, then stepped backwards to have a look at the overall effect.

Irritably, she sighed. “All right, so it’s not… terrible. But you have to be careful about these things. First, it’s a little neglected piece of ribbon, an off-note in a symphony. Then you let a little more lace into the collar, because it’s manageable. Then you Take Liberties. Then you Scoff At Tradition. Then you GO IT ALONE. And then the whole thing comes crashing down, and all they remember is the orchestra fell through the floor of the pit!”

Around this point, Rarity decided she needed some fresh air and went outside.

What she needed, she decided soon after, was a reminder of what she was doing this for, and under the summer sunlight, she found it at once.

Overhead, the sun purified the air so brightly that anyone with a camera could have gotten a very snazzy lens flare effect. Butterflies fluttered across the grassy land of Ponyville’s streets and open spaces, and the trees whispered like gentlecolts discussing the delightful breeze that ruffled their tops.

When Rarity breathed in, godliness breathed out again. Already, her mind was cleansed for the Muse of Inspiration.

Perhaps a short jaunt through Nature’s finest day would raise the spirits. She set off, pleased to see other ponies who were scattered about. Not an off-note among them; just joy, and contentedness, and excitement at the possibilities of summer freedom.

“Morning, Rarity!” Bon Bon waved at her as she passed.

“And a glorious Equestrian morning to you too!” Rarity called back.

Bon Bon hurried over. “Oh yes. You might like this; I heard that they’re even suspending negotiations in Canterlot at the moment, just to enjoy this day.”

Then Rarity remembered; there’d been some dispute or other about this and that, and the Princess Celestia was somehow in the middle of it all. Two nations, or something, coming to blows, and the poor royal had to be referee in case of accidents, i.e. a blow missing and hitting Equestria’s midriff.

“Well, let’s hope they see what we see,” said Rarity. “On a magnificent morning such as this – what power we have! – anything should be possible.”

Bon Bon frowned. “Power?”

“You know. To make things look nice,” Rarity explained, wondering what was so puzzling that needed explaining in the first place. “How could anyone stay mad on such a fine EEEERRRARRA-HEEE HAAHAAA!”

This last remark was not, as might have been “mistaken” by some of the more accommodating cognoscenti, a neologism of Rarity’s own devising. Although a few foals did hear it on the other side of town, and then used it as a playful battle-cry in their games for a few weeks.

This last remark was, in fact, her verdict upon seeing a mare land nearby, wearing a foul jumper, a tacky helmet, and a paper hat all at once. Short on critical commentary as it was, it was also commendably clear in spirit, and therefore did not warrant the reply it got from its recipient.

“Huh?” said Derpy, confused.

Rarity raised a shaking hoof to point at her, or at least in her general direction. “DERPY!”

“Yeah?”

Another brave word charged up Rarity’s larynx. “Why?”

Then something must have clicked in Derpy’s brain, because she looked down. “Oh, this? I’m starting a trend.”

At this, Rarity gave up on nasty surprise and went for the raised eyebrow, raised voice look. “A trend?”

“Yeah!” Derpy beamed at her. “See, I was thinking about yesterday, and you’re right. Ponies don’t get the joys of Hearth’s Warming in summertime. But! I also remembered how a good pony like you could start a trend by doing something different. Then it catches on. So I’m celebrating Hearth’s Warming anyway! Isn’t it great?”

Rarity finally got a-hold of her mouth. She turned to Bon Bon, who was carefully blank in the face of Derpy-ness, and then she remembered herself. She coughed genteelly.

“Derpy,” she said, as kindly as she could, “please…”

“I got this from Rarity,” said Derpy, looking at Bon Bon and pointing at her own ghastly ensemble.

“Did you?” said Bon Bon in an equally carefully blank voice.

“Erm, no, no,” Rarity said before she remembered herself again, eager as she was to forget. “Well, yes, but only as a custom favour, not as part of my ordinary work.”

“Oh, don’t be so modest,” said Derpy, beaming at her again. “But that’s the sort of generous friend Rarity really is, and I wanna do right by her. Rarity,” she said, so excitedly that a lesser mare than Rarity would’ve winced, “I’m gonna let everyone know what wonderful work you do.”

Despite herself, Rarity recovered her high-headed poise and gentle smile. Small-town girl she had once been, though, she was a lady at heart, and a true lady was unflappable in the face of mortal peril.

“How thoughtful,” she said in a voice that might as well have been thanking auntie for the Hearth’s Warming box of hankies. “Most generous of you, Derpy. I really am obliged.”

Derpy nodded, eager to show willing. Beside them, Bon Bon judged it best to nod along in agreement, thus blending in.

“But…” said Rarity, picking her words carefully, “I don’t suppose you could… refrain from doing it, could you?”

“Oh, but Rarity,” said Bon Bon, grinning. “Where would the generosity be in that?”

“Exactly!” said Derpy, while in her imagination Rarity roasted Bon Bon over the fires of Tartarus.

“Yes, yes, yes,” said Rarity quickly, “and I really am grateful to you. But look: just wearing the clothes everywhere won’t do.”

“Oh. Won’t it? I thought it might get ponies asking where I’d got them from, you see. Then I could tell them it was you, and then you’d get more ponies come visit.”

To her credit, Rarity did not shudder at this. Instead, she licked her lips and eventually said, “It’s just… I have a sense about these things, and I sincerely doubt anyone in Ponyville is going to pick this particular trend up.”

Sadly, Derpy’s face fell at this. Pangs of guilt gave Rarity the lofty leer of the self-righteous, while beside her Bon Bon settled for an amused titter. Yet, if there must be casualties for Rarity and Carousel, then they must be borne bravely.

“Not quite the place to be walking around in jumpers, you see,” she continued.

“Oh.” Derpy slumped. “I see.”

Rarity was moved to say, “You’re not upset?”

“No, no, it’s OK.”

“I wouldn’t like to be too hard on your judgement. Or on you.”

“You were right to point it out. Thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure!” Never far away, Derpy’s beaming smile ran back to its master. “Oh, well. Have a nice day, anyway! And thank you!”

Rarity didn’t let out the relieved breath until Derpy was out of sight. She just wished Bon Bon hadn’t been there. And to think the pegasus had worn all that in public!

“She’s a good soul really,” said Bon Bon. “You know what she’s like, though. Get an idea into her head, and she won’t rest until she’s done her best.”

Not quite forgetting the amused titter from before, Rarity stiffened. “Well, that’s that. Disaster averted, at least. A pity I can’t watch her in Ponyville. Knowing the poor mare, she’ll probably get it into her head to try again.”

“I’d be more than happy to keep an eye out for her, if you like,” said Bon Bon.

Perhaps you’re feeling suddenly guilty, eh? You always had a cold streak, Bon Bon. Heaven knows why.

“Would you? That’d be splendid.”

“What you doing, then?”

“Oh, I’m heading to Canterlot tomorrow. Must spring a surprise inspection on Canterlot Carousel. I trust dear Sassy, of course, but she gets these strange and worrying ideas into her head from time to time, and one must nip a potential weed in the bud.”

She made to walk off, but heard Bon Bon call, “What kind of ideas?”

“Just strange and worrying ones,” Rarity called back. “Nothing exactly… terrible. In fact, I imagine she’s rather learned how to tame the wild excesses of her businesslike talents. Tomorrow should be quite an easy-going day in Canterlot.”

“Is that so?” Bon Bon skewed her jaw.

“Well… don’t quote me on that, but… largely… yes.”

So it was with rather a shock that she got off the train the next day and ran straight into Derpy’s beaming smile.

“Hi, Rarity!”

“GAH!”

Rarity leaped back. As one of the station porters was busy unloading her mountain of suitcases at the time, the resultant scattering of spilled garments and papers caused some comment.

Frantically, Rarity hurried about the Canterlot Train Station, snatching sketches and notes which were making air-propelled bids for freedom. She nearly grabbed one when Derpy, in a violent fit of being helpful, flew over and accidentally blew the page away with her flapping.

“Derpy‼” hissed Rarity to the pegasus.

“My most sincere apologies,” cooed Rarity to the platform’s bystanders. She rounded on Derpy. “What in blazes are you DOING here!? Yes, that’s mine. Many thanks, good sir. Oh, sorry, madam, right there by your hoof. And WHY are you still WEARING that JUMPER!?”

Derpy pounced on a piece of paper, which blew away under the turbulence. Carefully, she peeped under her hooves to see if it was still there, and didn’t notice it until it fluttered onto her rump, which she slapped her hoof down on, causing yet more turbulence. If it had been designed to keep the paper airborne for as long as possible, then her act was doing a bang-up job.

“I was thinking… about… what you said… Oh, hold on,” said Derpy, chasing the paper round and round with repeated lunges. “You’re right… I can’t… start… a trend… in Pony… ville.”

“Here, let me.” Horn aglow, Rarity snatched the page out of the air.

Derpy’s eyes spun around until she held her head and waited for the pupils to settle down. “So where better to start a trend than in Canterlot? It’s the trendiest place in all of Equestria.”

Rarity stuffed and snapped shut the last of the suitcases. At least, she hoped she’d caught every last page. One or two might have slipped under the train, for all she knew.

“So I asked around,” said Derpy, “and I found the shop you set up here –”

“Canterlot Carousel, yes.” Rarity waved for the porter and headed out, wishing Derpy didn’t hover over her like that.

“Yeah, and I went in and asked about the clothes, and I told the mare behind the counter –”

“Sassy Saddles. I know.” To staring bystanders, Rarity made “I’m not with her” gestures, confident that Derpy would be too absorbed or too uncultured to know the subtle language of the natives so well.

“I told her I knew you, and she said you were coming up, and so I went to the station, and I waited –”

“Wait. She knew I was coming up? This was supposed to be a surprise!”

“She said you did the same thing last year. Also, something about sauce.”

Curious as a conversation with Derpy could naturally get, even this threw Rarity for the proverbial loop-de-loop, if not also for the roundabout and for the giant hamster wheel. Her mind went spinning off, at least.

“Sauce?” she said.

“Yeah. She had a sauce in Canterlot tip her off.”

“Oh, she did, did she?” Rarity ground her teeth. “Well, of all the nerve…”

They emerged from the main station to the grand steps, at the bottom of which lay the grand avenue of grand old Canterlot. Ah, Canterlot: home of the ivory towers and white peaks of academia; the whole city a grand emporium of good taste and refined luxury; playground of the nobles. And, like any playground, stuffed to the gills with bullies.

Perhaps it’s best to enlighten Derpy of the school rules here, Rarity thought, somewhat nervously. In her experience, Ponyvillians – besides her, of course – did not fully grasp the subtle complexities of higher life.

“My dear Derpy,” she said.

“Please, just call me Derpy.”

“Derpy, then… look, I don’t think it’s a good idea to be wearing that jumper here.”

“But –”

“There’s a certain stigma, see, against that sort of thing,” said Rarity, already sizzling under the hot glares and judgemental, sidelong glances. Even in the streets, one could not escape the city’s high expectations, and that was before entering an establishment or attending an event.

“Is it ‘cause it’s green?” Derpy patted her jumper. “Because I think I can make do with the helmet and the hat.”

“Yes, it’s amazing how you manage to wear two hats at once.”

“It’s a knack.”

“Quite.” She cleared her throat. “Now look, Derpy. They’re not easily impressed, your average Canterlot crowd. There’s the stigma of…”

Hastily, she checked. No one was nearby. She decided to chance it behind a raised, conspiratorial hoof, but only after waving Derpy to lean closer.

“…the eccentric,” she breathed.

Derpy rose up and gaped at her, comprehension dawning in her eyes.

She said, “Huh?”

“You know. Being a few cheese slices short of a sandwich, or a few springs short of a mattress, or a small amount of pigment short of a Daily Saviour absurdist masterpiece.” At Derpy’s opening mouth, she added, “He was a painter.”

“Ah, now I remember,” she said, pleased with herself. “The loony one.”

“Don’t say the word!” Rarity grinned at a couple of nearby raised eyebrows before continuing, “A mare’s reputation in Canterlot is extremely delicate. Suffice it to say that a green jumper – however festive – is not going to be greeted with open forelimbs.”

Yet Derpy frowned at this. “Oh, I know about that. Sure, ponies here can be a bit snobby, but they’re still ponies deep down. I’m sure a bit of friendliness is OK wherever you are. Anyway, I don’t look like a loony.”

The heart-warming speech was rather ruined by her eyes choosing that moment to drift apart. She shook them back into place.

“Rarity!” called a well-bred voice.

Caught off guard, Rarity turned around at once. Bearing down on them was a rather dapper stallion of the pale persuasion, his near-albino coat enlivened by a dark suit, blue waves of a mane like a frizzy beachside, and the ever-so-discreet bits of gold here and there that ever-so-quietly reminded ponies that he owned a few mouth-wateringly rich yachts at home and could easily buy another one later if he felt a bit peckish.

“A delight, as always!” He bent down and raised her unresisting hoof for a gentlecolt’s kiss. “Absolutely rummy to see one of my oldest and dearest friends in the fair city!”

Rarity fanned herself, and not just because the mild summer day had suddenly risen to a more summery heat. At least, that was her cover story. He had such a graceful profile…

“Fancy Pants,” she breathed. In a more normal voice, she coughed and said, “Yes, well, I, um, came to see how my boutique was getting along.”

“Of course! My dear friend Fleur tells me it’s a classic. You certainly learned a thing or two about haberdashery out in the country, what?” His genial gaze rose up to Derpy, and if he was suddenly chokingly shocked and outraged and utterly lost to wild terrors nameless and cruel, he did a good job of hiding it. “And who is this charming young pegasus?”

“Derpy!” said Derpy, extending a hoof hopefully.

Like a true gentlecolt, Rarity thought as he kissed it. He didn’t even flinch.

“I say,” he said to Derpy, “what a bold statement you make to be sure.”

“Sorry. I shout when I get excited.”

Confusion flittered over his face before his genial smile returned. “Ah, the rustic outspokenness. I must say, any friend of Rarity’s is a friend of mine.”

“Oh, we’re not –” Rarity began to lie hastily, but then remembered. “Well, of course, we’re not best friends exactly, but we are friends. Of a sort. Um. Anyway, nice running into you again, and if ever –”

“I say, Derpy,” said Fancy Pants, giving her a wink, “how’d you like to accompany me around Canterlot? I’d be quite delighted to show you the best of our fine city.”

He might as well have given her the key to the muffins plantation. Derpy’s beaming smile actually glinted, something Rarity thought only happened in toothpaste commercials on film.

“Thank you!” Derpy followed him down the street, she and he waving goodbye to Rarity. “It’s so nice to make a new friend who’s just as generous as Rarity! Hey, have you ever been to…”

Rarity watched them go, not entirely sure how to take this most recent departure. True, it got Derpy off her hooves, but…

Well, it got Derpy off her hooves.

She shrugged and settled for that, moving on. Behind her, the porter pushed the suitcases along on a trolley. Ever so helpful, and quality service, naturally.

And really, who better than Fancy Pants? He was a master at crowd control, and a friendlier Canterlot citizen would be hard to find.

Except…

Except…

Ah.

Rarity stopped for a moment, and the porter grunted with the groin-straining effort of not running her over with a trolley approaching half a ton in weight.

Except now she’s going to think I was wrong and she was right. Fancy Pants is NOT representative of the larger population! And if she gets it into her head that being “friendly” – or what she calls friendly – in Canterlot is all right…

She’ll Take Liberties!

“Excuse me, ma’am,” groaned the porter. “Where’re we goin’? Only this ain’t so easy to control, see?”

But Rarity shook herself down. It’d be fine. She was with Fancy Pants.

“To the Royal Hotel, if you please,” she said, and it seemed the sun shone brighter that day. “I intend to unpack.”

One of the suitcases crashed on the pavement. “Better you than me, ma’am.”

Later that afternoon, after resting for a while at her hotel and trying the local spa treatment and getting her mane styled at the Sapphire Salon before eating a somewhat indulgent lunch at Cinnamon Chai’s in preparation for watching a Wonderbolt Derby and having a most delightful discourse with several retired Wonderbolts on the planned replacement uniforms and their aesthetic versus pragmatic values… Rarity finally had enough of the simple life.

To business. She went to Canterlot Carousel. Ideally placed near the hub of the city where the hubbub was greatest, she flowed easily towards it like a drop of dew towards the pool in a china bowl. The sight of a herd of ponies crowding the window did wonders for her rugged soul. Yes, today had worked out so well.

Wait…

Among the murmuring… was that laughter?

Her legs worked hard before her brain had worked it out. But no. She wouldn’t. Even Derpy wouldn’t… not with Fancy Pants keeping an eye on –

She slipped through the crowd and saw green jumper.

Lots of green jumper.

Enough green jumper for, say, three mannequins, which was in fact what these three jumpers covered. Right down to the ghastly design of the three founders on the chest. And the Yew Tree Log. And the Old Equestrian Flag. And the little bobbly things and bells. And the holly-and-bauble pattern on green.

Rarity’s scream was hastily cut off. All eyes turned to her.

Her smile, when it came, was seconds away from shattering like glass.

“Berightback,” she garbled.

Rarity was not noted for her turn of speed, but in the time it took her to clear the crowd, clear the steps, clear the front door, and clear her mind of all but sheer shock, she would have impressed even a Wonderbolt.

As though the outside wasn’t bad enough, the shop was filling up with all kinds of ghastliness, to the point where “ghastly” took one look at what it had to describe and immediately resigned in protest.

Holly. Baubles. Bells. Little bobbly things. Red things. Green things. Yew Trees. They were everywhere, in various combinations and as various accoutrements. Were it not for the sunshine coming through the window, she might have stepped into a Hearth’s Warming wonderland.

In the middle, looking somewhat frazzled about the mane, was Sassy Saddles.

“What on earth is going on here?” said Rarity, once she’d found her tongue again and remembered what it was for.

Sassy twitched and looked round at her. “Odds bodkins, Rarity! You made me leap some hands and thumbs, I can tell you!”

“What?”

“Hands and thumbs. Old school measuring system. When I was at business school, there was an incident with some escaped monkeys and the headmaster’s prized ruler collection… It’s a sort of joke, you see.”

Rarity stared at her, horrified with fascination in spite of herself. Then she returned to just plain old horrified.

“Sassy,” she said calmly while her insides tried to scream. “What. Are. You. Doing?”

“By this point, I must admit I don’t know.”

“I repeat my ‘what?’ with added emphasis.”

Helplessly, Sassy waved towards the door to the backroom. “Well, she came in with this gentlecolt, and he said they were both friends of yours. Good godet, Rarity!”

“‘They’?”

The door opened, and Fancy Pants wandered in, somewhat less genial about the cheeks and smiling to a lesser degree than before.

“My word. I thought I heard your soprano voice, Rarity.”

“What’s going on?” said Rarity at once.

“Oh, your friend was just telling me about how she and you had come together to make the anachronistic Hearth’s Warming ensemble, you see. She seemed quite keen to know where your higher headquarters were, here in Canterlot, as a matter of fact. Dashed insistent, as it happens.”

“Well?” Rarity winced at a nearby specimen. Baubles? On a dress!?

“Well, funny thing was,” he continued, looking to Sassy for support, “that she wanted to perform a great service for you, though blowed if I can remember what exactly. She got quite excited upon seeing the fresh young shop.”

Rarity glared at Sassy with sudden suspicion. Sure, Sassy had tried being directorial over Rarity’s own direction before, but she must have learned by now what Rarity wanted from a shop. Good grief, Sassy had tried to resign over the issue out of shame.

“Cord binding, Rarity!” Sassy spluttered for a moment trying to rally her defence. “She said she’d come with you. Said something about wanting to take a load off your mind, and when this gentlecolt here gave her the indulgent OK, she jolly well showed off her jumper and asked if I could make more.”

Rarity ran a hoof over her face. There were, in fact, a few customers nearby, and they were staring at her, but she had to deal with one horror at a time.

“Don’t tell me…” she began.

“It’s not my fault!” Sassy said at once. “When she went on about sources in Ponyville, I thought you’d figured out how I got the shop ready, and had sent her as a sort of test. She asked if I could start a trend with that jumper, and I wasn’t going to be caught shirking my duties to your designs. I know what happens if I do that.”

Despite herself, part of Rarity was impressed. “You mean in one day, you managed to replicate the design and make all these… all these all these all these, these, these, these!” To call them clothes would be to put the mark of death upon the word. They were catastrophes in fabric form.

“I thought you’d be impressed,” said Sassy in a voice desperate to stress the past tense and therefore pass over the issue and make her less tense.

In the stillness, among the chuckling customers and mystified murmurs, there was the sound of doors bursting open and of wings flapping hard.

“Rarity!” said Derpy, coming in from the backroom. “You were right! I was dumb to try and start a trend for your clothes in Ponyville. They always follow Canterlot. And then we got to talking, and we had this great idea…”

Shockingly, Fancy Pants chuckled behind a hoof. He hastily stopped when Rarity glowered at him, but she caught his foreleg returning to position.

Instead, he bowed. “I’m terribly sorry, Rarity. Call it curiosity. You can’t deny it’s causing quite a splash.”

A tsunami, more like. Rarity pointed at random. “Sassy, get those wretched things out of the window at once! Recall the whole line!”

“But, by jersey –”

“If we’re quick, we can still do some damage control.” Forcing herself to smile and fighting a rising blood pressure, she rounded on Derpy. “Derpy, please! I appreciate…” She made an involuntary noise as a result of stopping her body from strangling itself through sheer desperation. “I appreciate your… your good intentions, but this is not… not how we… we do… do things here.”

Derpy shrank back, hooves behind her spine. She was the picture of misery, and Rarity was almost moved to pity, save for the fact that misery was an improvement compared to what was happening in her own head right now.

She rounded on Fancy Pants, who at least had the good grace to redden – or, given the restrained nature of Canterlot gentry, pinken – about the face.

“My apologies,” he said. “I must admit something of the impish impulse came over me. Please, allow me to make it up to you.”

“Apologies! Recalling the line! Apologies!” said Sassy, who was explaining things to a nearby customer. She levitated a collection of mannequins and went for the backroom as a medical team might wheel a patient to the emergency clinic.

“This has all been a bit of a joke,” continued Fancy Pants. “One will, of course, do what one can to repair the reputation by now spreading through Canterlot’s streets…”

“Thank you,” said Rarity, who’d scarcely dared to think about that on top of everything else going on.

“May I, by way of compensation, invite you to one of our royal dinners?”

“Oh, that’s kind of you,” said Rarity, still not entirely mollified but at least recovering from being mortified. “I fear, unless it’s immediate, I’ll have little opportunity once I complete my business dealings here and head back to – wait, did you say royal?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Rarity chewed her lip while Sassy rushed past to tackle more mannequins. “Royal? As in, with Princess Celestia herself?”

“Oh, rather. Temporary thing while she’s entertaining diplomatic guests. Our dear old Princess is quite keen to give them a good time, you see. And if you can’t have a good time at a dinner in Canterlot surrounded by quiet, calm, stiff, reserved, serious nobles…”

He frowned, as though he’d forgotten how the rest of it went.

Feeling it was the least he owed her – she caught a glimpse of bauble rushing past with Sassy, and went quite faint for a moment – Rarity gave him a few seconds of steely eye before nodding once.

“I should be delighted,” she said coldly.

“Ah. Excellent. Yes.” Fancy Pants nodded once and turned to leave, but then added sidelong, “I was hoping you would. What with your friend going along too, I was rather hoping she’d have some friendly company from her native Ponyville. Wouldn’t want her to feel left out. I say, are you quite all right? You’ve gone awfully red.”

Struggling against her clenched jaw and stiff limbs, Rarity managed to squeak, “I’llbeallright.”

“It’s this sun, I expect. Can take one unexpectedly, what? Well, pip pip. Can’t wait to see you there!”

“That’s the last of them,” said Sassy once he’d slipped out through the exit.

“Miss Rarity? Did you hear me?” said Sassy after a while.

“Miss Rarity?” said Sassy after another while.

“Um,” said Sassy after a third and more painful while.

“I’ll just be off, then.” Sassy hurried behind a counter like a shield.

In the corner, Derpy was hovering like a puppy that had brought something in as a gift and was now wondering why the master was rolling up a newspaper and hefting it like a baseball bat.

Rarity’s mind hadn’t touched ground for the last few minutes. Only with the thump of mental gravity, did she stir.

Me… and her… at a diplomatic dinner… after all this…?

Accompanied by a terrible sense of dread, she beckoned Derpy over. Fortune, luck, chance, happenstance: there were some things that were just too predictable.

“Derpy,” said Rarity, eye twitching. “You’re going to this dinner, right?”

“Uh huh,” said a timid voice overhead.

“Jolly good. You’re going in that jumper, right?”

“I didn’t bring anything else.” The voice might have come from Derpy’s knees, it was that low.

“Ah. I see.”

“I don’t understand,” said Derpy to the floor. “This jumper is something you’ve made. It’s brilliant.”

“That’s a… That’s definitely a view,” was all Rarity could tactfully say.

“I’m sorry if I did something wrong,” said Derpy.

“No, no. Mistakes were made. It’s quite all right. I don’t suppose, by any chance, you could show up to the dinner without the jumper on? Just this once?”

“Oh. Um. OK, then.”

Rarity blinked.

Wait. What?

“What did you say?” she said, trying to meet Derpy’s downcast eye.

“I guess I should have asked first,” said Derpy. “I was just too excited to think. I only wanted to help.”

“You’re not wearing it to the dinner, then?”

Derpy shook her head. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“Oh. Right. Um. Thank you.”

“I’m really sorry.”

Rarity glanced at Sassy behind the counter, who shrugged.

Finally, a magnanimity settled on Rarity’s chest. After all, now that she thought about it, the position was not an irreversible one. Good old Fancy Pants could smooth things over vis-a-vis her reputation, after all. She’d bounced back from worse. Anyway, he’d passed it off as a joke, hadn’t he? A sort of good-natured wheeze to be laughed off? Yes, now that she could work with.

Buoyed up by the hopefulness, Rarity said, “Not a problem. How about we forget this whole thing and start afresh? Looking forward to the dinner?”

Derpy rose like the dawning sun, her beaming smile loyally upon her face again.

“Oh, yes!” she said. “It’s a Canterlot dinner. I’ve never really had one of those before.”

“Then this should be an experience,” said Rarity, sighing with relief. “Let bygones be bygones. Now, how about getting you something more suitable for the occasion? I have a few spare dresses back at the hotel. Soon as I’m done here, we can go and make ourselves fabulous before the feast. What say you?”

No one dared to say anything at dinner.

The time: sundown. The place: Canterlot Grand Hall. The atmosphere: Mostly humid, with plenty of static tension. It was so thick a knife could have carved it.

Perhaps that was why the knives were blunted.

Two sides faced each other. On the one, the Yak Citizens of Yakyakistan growled and rumbled like thunder with indigestion. On the other, the Tundra Pony Warriors of Whiteland stood as a rank of generals, their traditional thick fur coats giving them a cuddliness that didn’t extend to their oh-so-casually hefted spears. Apparently, they were a cultural weapon. The yaks presumably could put their own massive, bejewelled horns in the same category.

Among them, the Canterlot nobles were as mice at a cat’s convention. None dared to speak.

Opposite, the great Princess Celestia of Equestria, She Who Controls the Sun, One of the Two, the Conqueror of Evil, was daintily cutting up and ferrying slices of some unidentified pastry to her mouth. As though utterly oblivious of the potential war waiting to wage around her, she chewed happily.

Beside her, Derpy beamed and giggled as though she could hardly believe her luck.

Rarity herself took all this in, and then pretended she hadn’t. Even an errant stare could end with someone smashing the round table. It was a big round table, but she was sure they’d manage it. They looked keen enough to have a go.

“Ah,” said Princess Celestia with sheer culinary contentment. “Finest mince pie. Our Head Chef Casserole has outdone himself. Please, help yourself to the grape juice. This vintage was freshly imported from the Grittish Isles.”

And for a moment, Rarity glowed with the privilege of having dinner with the Princess herself. The mince pie indeed had been nice. It just hadn’t lasted long enough to distract.

All eyes were on Celestia. Shock held the room.

Rarity could see why. She was a bit tongue-tied herself.

By contrast, Derpy attacked her second helping with gusto. She loved it so much, in fact, that she was determined to share it, splattering juice across the table and over her face in case it wanted a taste.

Nearby, a yak grimaced and drew his head back to avoid the flying drops. Opposite, a Whitelander pony shook her head in the classic “Why did I agree to this?” manner, internationally recognized.

“Yeah,” said Derpy around a mouthful. “Casserole’s the best!”

Princess Celestia allowed herself one refined giggle.

Finally, Prince Rutherford of the Yakyakistan Delegates cleared his throat. Alone of the yaks, he wasn’t staring at Celestia, though that might have been because his hairs covered his eyes.

“Yaks get better pies in Yakyakistan,” he rumbled. “Yaks freeze it properly.”

Opposite, Chief Icepick of the Whitelanders barked a laugh. She wasn’t looking at Celestia, either, but eyeing her yak rival with cold indifference.

“And we Whitelanders keep more refined company,” she hissed. “Who, for instance, are these tedious strangers among us?”

The Canterlot nobles both bristled and cowered. Alone between two yaks – and keeping a hoof over his drink in case of stray hairs from the bulky, hulking presences – Fancy Pants coughed into his other hoof.

“Oh, we are but guests,” he said, and deep in the recesses of her shocked mind, Rarity admired the lack of tremble in his voice. “Canterlot’s a fine place for formal dinners. I personally never miss one. You won’t find more refined company than us.”

At this point, Derpy belched. Even he winced.

Prince Rutherford nodded. “That refined, sure.”

“And that one at the end?” Chief Icepick hissed. She didn’t seem able to talk any other way.

To Rarity’s shock, Chief Icepick’s spear pointed at her.

“Um,” she said, dearly wishing she had a pie to bury herself in.

“Ah,” said Celestia, smiling up at them. “Allow me to introduce Miss Rarity. One of the finest seamstresses it has been my pleasure to meet.”

At this, rumbles of consternation breached the yak’s line.

One said, “You bring dressmaker to big dinners? With Prince?”

Another said, “This a big joke. This stupid ponies’ thing.”

A third said, “Diplomatic relations no negotiate optimally with attendees lacking political acumen or diplomatic experience.”

They stared at him until he said, somewhat shamefacedly, “Well, it true.”

“Silence!” rumbled Prince Rutherford. His stamp shook the plates. “Rarity known to yak tribe. Rarity was yak host once. Got it wrong! Yaks smash wrong!” Another stamp, another shake of the plates. “But Rarity is harmless.”

Chief Icepick groaned in irritation. “What is the meaning of this? You bring a… a dressmaker to a formal dinner? A bunch of entitled layabouts?”

The Canterlot nobles murmured indignantly before they remembered themselves and promptly fell silent.

“And…” The Chief winced at Derpy’s renewed attack on the pie. “Whatever she is.”

Derpy surfaced. “I’m from Ponyville!”

“I see. And this Ponyville is a grand metropolis?”

“I dunno. What’s a metropolis?” Bits of fruit slipped off Derpy’s muzzle back into the pie.

“You are of noble birth, I take it?”

“Erm. My parents said there were no complications.” After another big bite, she added, “I dunno what they meant, though.”

Chief Icepick glanced across at Prince Rutherford. Around them, the Whitelanders and the yaks growled and shuffled their hooves, but the two of them merely looked glum. Meanwhile, Derpy dived back into her dinner.

“I think you’ll agree, Prince Rutherford,” hissed Chief Icepick, “that warriors of our stature deserve a little better than this.”

“Yaks agree to nothing! Yaks declare war! Yaks proud and mighty and talk not with weak baby ponies! Yes.”

Opposite, Princess Celestia took another graceful, moderate bite.

Rarity wanted to scream, but quickly put hooves over mouth and clenched her insides until it passed. Why did I agree to this? Why did no one tell me? And why oh why does Derpy get to sit next to Celestia! It’s crude favouritism! At least if I were favourite, I wouldn’t be crude!

Oh, don’t be selfish, Rarity.

What else can I be? I want to get away! I can’t turn down a Canterlot meal now! I can’t back out ever! I’d be blacklisted at every noble event! I’d be blackballed from Canterlot society forever!

I’d start a war!

I’D BE RUUUUUUUUUUDE!

Another scream, crazed and disoriented, made a bid for her larynx. She fought it until it gave up and sagged back down.

Derpy belched again. Rarity’s hooves itched to strangle, so she sat on them.

“This pony yaks not know,” said Prince Rutherford.

“Ah, a true pity,” said Celestia, and she lowered her head level with Derpy’s, who grinned messily. “I make it a point to mingle with my less extraordinary subjects. Dear Derpy Hooves here is a fine young mare.”

“Her eyes funny. Point in all over the place directions.”

“Oh,” said Derpy, and she shook her head again, splattering a nearby yak. “Sorry. They do that sometimes.”

“According to my source in Ponyville,” said Celestia, “Derpy is a hard worker and a special member of the Cloudsdale Weather Team. Her parents moved before she was born, you see…”

Source? thought Rarity.

“Is this relevant?” hissed Chief Icepick.

“All my ponies are relevant,” said Celestia as though it were obvious. “Derpy is no exception. In fact, I’m given to understand that Derpy here has recently become the inspiration for a new ‘buzz’, as they call it, spreading across Canterlot.”

Rarity’s blood froze.

As one, the delegates stared at Celestia. Not at her face.

Rarity whimpered. Oh no. Not that. Not that, not that, not that! Ponyville was bad enough! Fancy Pants was worse! Canterlot Carousel was the limit! If it becomes international…

For the love of you, Celestia, please don’t, please don’t, please don’t…

“Aha,” hissed Chief Icepick. It could have been a cough. “Well, I certainly see the calibre of your leadership in this –”

Derpy waved. “Garkon! Orderey vous another pie, grassier silver plate! Wow, speaking in cookery is fun! I never knew!”

Mouth held open and waiting, Chief Icepick continued, “Charming young lady.”

Prince Rutherford laughed heartily, making ripples in the grape juice and blowing some manes back. “Is charming like fine yak maiden! HAH HAH HAH! Maybe ponies learn yak way after all!”

Obediently, the yaks laughed in turn. The noise sounded like a church organ exploding.

Rarity tried to catch Derpy’s eye, but could only catch one of them; the other looked around the table in obvious puzzlement.

“So!” Prince Rutherford said, and all laughter died away at once. “We go to war, and you ponies start buzz. What buzz? Yaks kill things that buzz! Big stingy things with wings! Squish them and squash them!”

“Oh.” Derpy – not entirely unaware of affairs of state – shrank a little where she sat. “Well, I, uh, wore a really nice jumper into Canterlot.”

“I see,” hissed Chief Icepick. Her beady eyes pinned Celestia down, which went unnoticed as Celestia had just signalled for a cup of tea.

“A delightful specimen, I trust?” For a moment over her cup and over her sipping, Celestia’s gaze flickered towards Rarity.

Oh nonononononononono NO! NO! NOOOOO! Please! Have mercy, Princess!

Rarity smiled weakly.

“Oh yes!” Derpy’s wings fluttered with enthusiasm. “It had all sorts of bobbles and pictures and little bell thingies and it was green and not at all itchy and I had a helmet and some tinsel and a paper hat with vermin all over it.”

“Excuse me?” Chief Icepick gaped in disbelief. “Vermin?”

“I think I got it wrong.” And then, to Rarity’s utter horror which left her petrified where she stood, Derpy rose up and cupped her hooves to her mouth and shouted over, “Rarity! What was that fabric you added to my hat!?”

All eyes pinned Rarity down. She was but a mite, trapped beneath a magnifying glass, awaiting the cruel sunlit focus of oblivion. She even felt as though her haunches were smoking, burning, sizzling and spitting and cracking with heat.

Rarity tried to speak. Her lungs didn’t get the memo, because all she did was squeak.

“Right,” hissed Chief Icepick. “This is one of Equestria’s finest dressmakers, yes?”

Rarity’s “yes” became the yip of a squashed poodle. She started to shake with the desire to flee.

“Oh, she does more than commissions,” said Celestia in-between two cupfuls. “Her current dress is, I believe, of her own make. Is that right?”

Rarity’s weak laugh grew weaker by the second.

Rushing to her rescue, Fancy Pants said, “Yes, yes it is. She is, of course, charmingly modest about her work.”

“Wonderful.” Celestia sipped her tea.

“Hm.” Chief Icepick grinned. “A fine dress, I grant you.”

“But jumper too? That jumper?” Prince Rutherford blew contemptuously, blowing his fringe and exposing his eyes briefly. “What a crazy pony!”

“Certainly… eccentric.”

Eccentric. Eccentric. Eccentric. Eccentric… Eccentric…

In Rarity’s mind, a vast hole opened up, aglow with the fires of Tartarus, howling with the cries of the victims. Her mind began to tip on the precipice, a mere puff away from inescapable cruelty.

She whimpered. Suddenly, she wanted to curl up under the table, maybe with a pot of ice cream. Ice cream was her friend right now.

Instead, she watched in a daze as all eyes returned to Celestia. To what she was wearing.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Fancy Pants, adjusting his collar. “Nothing wrong with a touch of eccentr – I mean, of spontaneity and variety, what?”

All the Canterlot nobles breathed out as one. No one had been condemned out of their mouths. Of course, foreigners could say the e-word, but should a noble ever utter it in the presence of the victim? The axe had come down then. The show was over. The universe had ended, at least for the unfortunate victim.

“That what you call it?” said Prince Rutherford.

“And is she a noble, too?” hissed Chief Icepick. There was so much hissing when she spoke that Rarity – beneath layers of dark contemplation – wondered if she needed a lozenge.

“Oh, no,” said Celestia happily over her cup. “Rarity deserves praise for her inspiring rise to success. Once a daughter to a pair of common ponies – charming in their own way, of course – she earned her way to our esteemed circle through deeds.”

“What? How many commoners do we have here, exactly?”

A sip. “I don’t actually like the term ‘commoner’, but: just the two.”

No, thought Rarity in a panic. I want to curl up and eat a tub of ice cream! A swimming pool! An ocean! I won’t end until all the good ice cream is gone!

“Dessert, ladies and gents?” Celestia made a gesture. All plates and cutlery disappeared, to be replaced by rainbow sundaes and the refined sort of spoon that was on its way to becoming a decorated wand.

Rarity didn’t hesitate. She shovelled in scoop after scoop – cringing because hers turned out to be tangerine-flavoured – before satiation kicked her attention away and she noticed several eyes watching her.

“Huh,” hissed Chief Icepick, holding up and inspecting her own spoon. “In the lands of ice and snow, we Whitelanders value metal highly. Gold is soft but precious. Iron makes fine weapons. Even copper, one of the baser metals, has its uses.”

“Rarity made a metal dress once,” said Derpy helpfully. Then she lay into the sundae, if anything, more messily than before; a yak growled as a fleck hit it square in the eye.

“Really?”

“And she does a lot of work for charity. She’s amazing.”

A flicker of a grin crossed Chief Icepick’s face. “Then I guess we can call her… the nickel saint.”

Prince Rutherford laughed until his sundae fell over from the sheer force. Hastily, one of his attendants gave him theirs.

“HAH HAH HAH!” he boomed. “Little pony sound like little Celestia! This is funny! This is LAUGHING!”

Yet again, all eyes turned to Celestia.

She was wearing a green jumper.

All in all, Sassy Saddles had done an excellent job at replicating the themes of the original without making an exact copy. Instead, this one had a scene of a white pony, lying on a lounge chair, looking out the window, admiring the snowfall and the bare trees beyond, receding into the mist, lit only by a single lamp. Otherwise, the holly and bells and so on would overwhelm through sheer tackiness.

For the first time, Prince Rutherford looked at this jumper, and Celestia noticed and followed his gaze.

“Quite festive, isn’t it?” she said.

“Huh,” said Prince Rutherford. “But Hearth’s Warming not in summer. Yaks know story. Yaks not stupid.”

“Nor are we, us Whitelanders,” hissed Chief Icepick.

Celestia granted herself a small but graceful chuckle. “Hearth’s Warming in summer. Certainly novel, isn’t it?”

“That’s an interesting way of putting it.” Chief Icepick curled her lip. “But then I suppose Equestrians are the diplomatic type.”

“Is odd,” agreed Prince Rutherford, nodding.

Again, Celestia chuckled the royal chuckle. “Hardly odd. Why, topsy-turvy traditions are one of the highlights of Equestrian history. At the beginning of Equestria’s existence, there were some peculiar winter festivals, for instance. One I quite liked involved reversing social roles. For a few days, servants became masters and masters became servants. Earth ponies controlled the weather, pegasi cast magic spells, and unicorns worked in the fields growing crops.” She sighed dreamily. “Sometimes, I’ve considered reviving the practice, but there you have it.”

“Ponies been odd long time?” said Prince Rutherford.

“Yep!” said Derpy, and he snorted. “Also, also! We got lots of cool traditions in Ponyville. All the seasons and the festivals and stuff. I love it! We love it! Everyone in Ponyville is friendly and helpful and nice. Like me!”

“So,” hissed Chief Icepick. “You’re a representative of a typical Equestrian citizen?”

“Yep! That’s me! I’m a representa-tan-in-ta-tive!”

In her enthusiasm, she waved a hoof and knocked her sundae over with a crack.

Canterlot nobles up and down the table tutted. They tutted again when her eyes started to wander off in opposite directions.

Up till now, Rarity had been lost in a private terror, but here, she blinked and woke up, and the pit vanished, and the cries of its victims vanished too.

Now the full impact of what was going on hit her between the eyes like a fish.

Chief Icepick bared her teeth in contempt. “Such a nation of eccentrics.”

“HAH HAH HAH!” Prince Rutherford boomed. “Laugh at nation of Equestria! Laugh at nation of… ECCENTRIA!”

His booming laughs echoed around the hall. To Rarity’s surprise, Chief Icepick smiled, albeit in a smug, twisty way.

“Oh yes. What an enlightening dinner this has been. I shall remember that.” To cap it all, she glanced sidelong at Rarity when she said that.

Up and down the table, puzzled or stoic ponies and yaks began to chuckle along with the two leaders. Celestia and Derpy looked on, the former genially, the latter in some confusion. Fancy Pants grimaced, but these three were exceptions. Soon, Rarity was lost amid a hall of haunting, bellowing, never-ending laughter.

Slowly, miserably, painfully, she lowered her head to hide behind the empty sundae glass. A whole universe of ice cream couldn’t fill her up after this.

That night, Rarity didn’t sleep a wink.

In the darkness, she dreaded the morning newspapers. She dreaded the ponies laughing at her dear Canterlot Carousel. Most of all, she dreaded a future of boarded-up boutiques and her, alone, in debt, shovelling ice cream into her mouth for all eternity.

She removed the “shovelling ice cream” bit from her nightmares, on the grounds that it didn’t quite strike the proper tone of grisly terror.

Even long after the stars had given way to bright sunlight and the bustle of ponies could be heard beyond the window, she did not stir.

She did stir, however, when someone rapped a hoof against her door.

“It’s me,” said Derpy, muffled behind the door and her own meek shame. “I wanted to see you.”

Anger urged Rarity to shout “NO”, but she pushed it aside. After all, Derpy hadn’t meant to ruin her life.

As soon as she opened the door, she gasped under the forelimbs seizing her in a tight hug.

“Rarity, I’m so sorry! I couldn’t sleep last night for the guilt! I think I did something bad yesterday, and I don’t know what it is, but I know I did it, and I’m sorry!”

“D-D-Derpy!?” groaned Rarity.

“Yes? Anything I can do? Anything whatsoever?”

“L-Let go. You-You’re choking me!”

“Oh. Sorry.” She let go and backed off.

While Rarity gasped for breath, Derpy continued, “You’ve treated me so well that I should treat you so well too. If you have money problems because of my mistake, I’ll give you some of my earnings. I promise.”

A final cough let Rarity catch up to the words. She looked at two eyes looking in opposite directions, and geared up for the telling off of a lifetime… but she’d never do it. There was no point. Derpy was already kicking herself down on Rarity’s behalf.

She didn’t mean it. She can’t help it. If anything, I’m just as much to blame. I let her down; I gave in to her judgement instead of overruling it for her sake – for our sakes, now. I should never have agreed to that jumper business in the first place.

She blinked with surprise. Those words had come out of nowhere, and yet she felt as though they’d been there the whole time.

“No need,” Rarity said. “I’m sure I’ll manage.”

“I’m so, so sorry… I…”

The door creaked open. Both of them turned.

Princess Celestia strode into the room, ducking her head to pass through the frame. “Ah, good. It looks like I made it in time.”

At this, Rarity’s mind gave up. Derpy bursting in to apologize, she could understand. The Princess of Equestria popping by for a quick visit, she could not.

“Er…” she began.

“Princess Celestia!” Derpy bowed low.

“And friends,” said Celestia, stepping aside. “Miss Sassy Saddles and Sir Fancy Pants would like to speak with you both, if you can spare the time.”

Fancy Pants stepped in, smiling politely and adjusting his monocle with his unicorn magic. “A delight as ever, Rarity.”

“Morning, Miss Rarity,” said Sassy Saddles, joining his side. “Darning socks! You look as though you haven’t slept a wink!”

Such an odd remark was this that Rarity could do naught but blink at her. “What?”

“Rarity!” Fancy Pants grabbed her by the hoof and shook vigorously, dislodging his monocle again. “Good news! Your reputation is secure! I’ve made sure of it, and thus have I saved you from a grisly fate. When you step out into the Canterlot street, all who gaze upon you will know you as a role model who braved the scorn of two other nations!”

“What?” said Rarity.

“It’s the least I could do,” he added sheepishly.

“What’s more,” said Celestia, “I’m pleased to announce that, thanks to the success of the dinner last night, two nations on the brink of war have now united instead.”

“What?” said Rarity, in case they hadn’t heard the first time.

“Up till now, they’d looked upon us and each other as potential dangers. After the experience at dinner, however, the Whitelanders and the Yaks of Yakyakistan are convinced we are not dangerous. Better! They believe our nation is so bizarre and eccentric in its habits – and have found each other so strongly united in ridicule against us – that they’ve set aside their differences.”

“What?” said Rarity, hoping it might get across sooner or later.

“Of course, talks will continue. However, I think it’s safe to say that cooler heads prevail for the time being.” Celestia winked. “Even when you control the sun, it’s hard to look threatening and to wear a Hearth’s Warming jumper at the same time. That’s the psychology of the individual for you.”

“More importantly, Rarity!” Sassy danced on the spot. “Oh warp and weft, it’s too much! The Hearth’s Warming clothes have become symbols of national defiance, and when I woke up this morning, the shop was flooded with ponies bearing orders for more!”

“Eh?” said Rarity, deciding to switch tactics.

“I know! Gusset all, but it’s going to make us richer than the Riches!”

Finally, their words struck gold in Rarity’s brain. She screwed up her face. She went blank. She gritted her teeth. She gaped. She wrinkled her nose. She saw her vision go blurry with threatening tears.

“Can someone,” she said in a voice straining not to crack, “please tell me what on earth is going on!?”

Both Fancy Pants and Sassy Saddles turned to Celestia, who nodded solemnly. Whatever flicker of a grin had lit up her face now went out.

“I apologize,” she said with modest dignity, “but I fear I’ve played something of a practical jest at your expense, Rarity.”

“Wh –” Deciding to be original, Rarity spluttered, “What do you mean, a practical joke? What joke? Um… Your Highness, please?”

“I appreciate your confusion, but please allow me to apologize before I explain.” She turned to Derpy, who backed off hurriedly in case the royal presence was profaned. “I must apologize to you, Miss Hooves. If you will not judge me harshly for saying so, my sources informed me that your reputation had you down as the ideal player. You were beloved by many in Ponyville, and yet known for…” Celestia winced. “A little inelegance… that you were best placed to make an impression on, and thus to unite in scorn – I really do apologize – two serious-minded and somewhat judgemental tribes.”

Yet Derpy’s face was utterly blank. Even when Celestia bowed her head towards her, she merely gaped and stared.

“Oh,” she managed, voice somewhat faint. “Uh… apology accepted?”

Celestia beamed as though she’d borrowed Derpy’s favourite expression out of respect, and then she straightened up.

“Good show,” said Fancy Pants. Celestia blushed.

“As for you, Rarity,” she continued. “For the difficulties I’ve brought to you, I’m willing to offer some compensation as a way of expressing – and hopefully earning – no hard feelings.”

“Good sport, I say,” said Sassy, nodding frantically.

Rarity closed her eyes and turned away from them all. “What is this? I can’t believe… No, I refuse to believe… Yes, I must still be dreaming… This just cannot be true…”

“Ah,” said Fancy Pants, somewhat awkwardly. “I can see you’re a little miffed, Rarity.”

“Yes,” snapped the businessmare Sassy Saddles, “but once we attend to these orders, we’ll be remunerated handsomely! Remunerated, by tassle and gown!”

“A-And, of course,” he said with some haste, “Rarity, my dear, your reputation has not sunk. It has, if anything, been bolstered. You’re a good old symbol of what makes our nation so admirable and yet so endearing!”

“I assure you,” said Celestia, “had anything gone wrong, I would have taken full responsibility and thus spared you any indignity.”

Rarity chewed her lip. Outside, the white buildings of Canterlot were ablaze. She was still stuck on the part where this was all a practical joke.

Oh, they were fine-sounding words, to be sure. Reputation and business were secure. She got that much. What they weren’t were explanations.

“You mean…” she said, “you actually had this planned out? What, from the start?”

She felt sick to her stomach. Even last night’s dinner was disgusted.

After a pause, Celestia said, “Miss Saddles? Sir Fancy Pants? Would you leave us for a moment? I’d like to speak to Miss Rarity and Miss Derpy Hooves alone.”

“Absolutely, Your Highness,” said Fancy Pants, all too relieved.

“Cord blind me, so I shall!” said Sassy.

“Er… very good,” replied Celestia.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Rarity heard Celestia step closer. Nearby, Derpy squeaked with excitement or terror; it was hard to tell.

“You used me?” said Rarity.

“And me?” said Derpy.

“I meant you too!” snapped Rarity, rounding on her –

Celestia’s alabaster-white forelimb barred the way. For a graceful equine, she could move like a shadow. There hadn’t even been a creak of floorboard.

“Derpy was innocent of the plan,” said Celestia, lowering her leg. “From my source in Ponyville –”

“What source?” said Derpy.

Celestia merely smiled, and continued, “From my source in Ponyville, I had heard of your commission to Rarity, and naturally of Rarity’s generous act in not refusing the request, but of meeting it to the letter.”

“Well, sure,” said Derpy as though nothing could be simpler.

“In spite of her own tastes and views, Rarity nonetheless helped you exactly as you wanted. Any other Canterlot dressmaker would have turned you down, believe me. I agreed with you, Derpy, when you decided that such generosity should be rewarded. My role once you were in Canterlot was to encourage Fancy Pants and Sassy to nudge things towards our diplomatic dinner… after laying the groundwork among the Canterlot crowd.”

Derpy hummed thoughtfully, and for once Rarity wondered how she could take all this so easily. Perhaps there were minds so innocent that they could actually see things the experienced missed?

“So…” she said.

“Yes?” said Celestia.

“Does this mean we get a second Hearth’s Warming? In summer?”

Celestia laughed, and the last of Rarity’s resistance melted. Argue with explanations and confessions though she might, she didn’t have it in her to argue with such a merry, tinkling sound.

“Oh, now that is an idea!” Celestia said. “I must admit I’ve been itching to revive those old and topsy-turvy traditions in some form, and this seems as good a way as any other.”

“But…” Derpy frowned. “Not the same, then?”

“Don’t you know that the key to a good tradition is innovation?” She smiled, and Rarity spotted the impish twinge at the corners.

Derpy gasped, truth dawning on her. “So there can be a second Hearth’s Warming?”

“You wanted to start a trend, did you not?” Now the impish twinge became a grin. “Thanks to Rarity here.”

Derpy gasped even more loudly. “You mean it!?”

“I mean it.”

To Rarity’s shock, Derpy tackled her again and hugged so tightly that she was sure ribs must break. “Oh, thank you thank you thank you!”

“And by way of saying thank you for being a good sport,” said Celestia, “and also for showing a true spirit of goodwill, Miss Derpy Hooves: I propose to make you the mascot of the occasion.”

“Did you hear that, Rarity!” squealed Derpy into her ear.

Rarity winced. “I can’t hear anything else! Will you let go of me, please, dear!?”

“What’s my mascot name?” Derpy finally let go, releasing Rarity for a few desperate breaths.

Amid her gasping, Rarity marvelled at the sheer audacity of it. A few words here, a dinner there, a strategically placed jumper everywhere, and suddenly a holiday was born. She was sure they were supposed to grow up organically, or something.

Anyway, the sheer brightness of the scheme now shone so much that it blinded her.

“Hm,” said Celestia.

A flash of inspiration hit Rarity. Parts of her were still too dazed to object.

“How about…?” she mumbled. “How about the ‘Nickel Saint’?”

“Eh?” said Derpy, whose memory wasn’t the best.

“And one for you too, Rarity?” Celestia giggled, and a more prank-promising, schoolfilly-ish giggle could not have been as out-of-place next to that radiant face and flowing mane. Suddenly, Rarity had no difficulty believing Celestia would mastermind a new holiday for fun.

“Um,” she said.

“I quite like the Princess of Eccentria, if you have no objections.” There was a twinkle in Celestia’s eye.

“Er,” said Rarity, trying again.

“That gets my vote!” said Derpy, shooting her hoof up.

“Eccentria?” Rarity tasted the word. “As in eccentr – the e-word?”

“Eccentric?” Celestia laughed at Rarity’s flinch of good taste. “I’m afraid that joke’s on you, Rarity. Haven’t you heard? ‘Eccentric’ is the new ‘fashionable’.”

Still slow on the uptake, Rarity said, “I’m getting remunerated, you said?”

“And your reputation is safe and stronger than ever!” Derpy gave an almighty hip-hip-hooray, though only Celestia joined in. “It’s the season to be jolly, now! Just what I always wanted!”

“Hearth’s Warming in summer…” Rarity shook her head, as though bits of her mind were wandering off in different directions.

“I can see that you’ll need some time to get into the spirit of the thing.” Celestia bowed and turned to leave, but stopped at the door and gave them both one last smile. “I understand. It is the psychology of the individual, after all. If you have anything more you wish to discuss, I’m willing to talk to you. For the time being, I fear I must return to my duties now. Oh, and before I forget… Happy Hearth’s Warming!”

Rarity mumbled something in reply. Both she and Derpy bowed. When they rose up again, Celestia was gone.

“Hearth’s Warming?” said Rarity.

“Look out the window! Oh my gosh! It’s exactly how I imagined it!”

Hesitantly, Rarity did so. Beyond the glass, flakes of snow tumbled and wheeled out of the sky. Flocks of pegasi guided more clouds into place. Soon, the streets were as white as the buildings. Some ponies had even put out lights for decoration, and boots and scarves were much in evidence.

“Wow,” breathed Derpy, fogging up the glass.

At which point, Rarity went back to bed. It seemed the most sensible thing to do. But just in case, she asked Derpy to wake her up when it was all over. Derpy, naturally, agreed and said good night. And good morning. And Happy Hearth’s Warming too.

“What a week,” Rarity mumbled, after the door slammed and cracked as expected. “What a week…”

Before she drifted off, outside her window, she was certain she heard Derpy laughing among the snowflakes.

One year later…

Upon a midsummer’s eve…

Hearth’s Warming Summer came round again.

Within the greens and reds of Carousel Boutique’s dress emporium, Rarity the Unicorn hung up the last of the paper chains. They glittered only haphazardly and weren’t very good, but Sweetie Belle had spent so much time throwing everything on them that Rarity hadn’t the heart to say no. Even if she did remove them during opening hours.

As usual – or at least as usual from now on – Rarity lifted the Yew Tree. A few minutes’ work and several more minutes’ adjustment later, she had a fully decorated tree for her efforts.

Grimacing slightly, she opened a box. Out the contents came, slipping over her head and down her forelegs. Sure, it might be only a year-old tradition, but it was a tradition nonetheless.

In any case, she’d made the jumper work. She was particularly pleased with the image on the belly; of a pegasus with funny eyes, and of a unicorn with a funny smile, forelimbs on each others’ shoulders and being gawked at by a gaping yak and a confused Whitelander. A conversation-starter, she felt.

Eagerly, she opened her morning letters. Yes, Canterlot Carousel was booming; Sassy Saddles always scribbled and left ink stains whenever she got too excited. And yes, Fancy Pants was inviting her to attend the first Canterlot soiree for the Summer Festivities. Plus one guest. Preferably – he’d said between the lines – someone interesting.

Rarity sighed. Celestia was on her throne, and all was right with the world.

Except…

As she went upstairs to get some more fabric from the studio, a memory lurched out of hiding.

She listened to its prompting. Then she went up and found the door she was looking for. A pile of boxes were moved aside easily; the padlock a little trickier before she found the key in a drawer. Thus, she uncovered the cupboard of a lifetime ago.

Reverentially, as though attending a self-coronation, Rarity raised the object aloft. Typical Derpy style, she thought.

She crowned herself. The Yew Tree Hat was once more upon its rightful place.

With it came another lurching memory: the word quest.

Someone knocked on the front door. Repeatedly and enthusiastically. Only one mare knocked like that.

By the time Rarity got downstairs, Derpy had let herself in. Unremarkably, she was wearing last year’s jumper.

“Happy Hearth’s Warming Summer, Rarity!”

“And a Happy Hearth’s Warming Summer to you too, Derpy.” No, wait… “Oh, my apologies. I almost forgot: Happy Hearth’s Warming Summer to you, Nickel Saint!”

“There’s a crowd of them out there,” said Derpy. “Singing carols. I didn’t know we had any Hearth’s Warming Summer carols.”

“Well, we do now.” Pleasantries concluded, Rarity felt free to extend a hoof towards Derpy. “You’ll be pleased to know that business is booming, the yaks and the Whitelanders are arguing happily over which of them finds us the most ridiculous, and we have a dinner in Canterlot later.”

“Oh, pardon my manners.” Derpy took the hoof, and then evidently not getting why, gave it a kiss almost identical to Fancy Pants’. “Princess Eccentria!”

“That’s the Grand and Generous Princess Eccentria to you, my subject.”

“Righty ho!”

“Also, I should point out that mares don’t kiss mares on the hoof.”

Derpy’s wings drooped. “Oh.”

“Only stallions kiss.”

“Oh.”

“But you can shake it, if you so desire. One doesn’t want to be too formal.”

Derpy’s wings rose. She gripped the hoof between two of her own and – with unexpected restraint – shook once. A fine and graceful gesture, ruined slightly by her eyes drifting apart again.

“Sorry.” She shook her head again.

“No need to apologize whatsoever, Nickel Saint. Shall we?”

However, on the way to the door – hearing the laughter and whispers and singing outside – Rarity stopped.

Quest bounced around in her mind again.

“What’s wrong?” said Derpy. “It’s OK. The snow’s only for a few days, and then we’re back to normal. It’s the snow, isn’t it?”

“No, not that. But…”

“But?”

Rarity chewed her lip. Bits of the memory trickled back, and she felt the weight of the hat on her head.

“When you gave me this hat a year ago,” she said, “you told me it might help me on my quest.”

“Did I? Wow, you’ve got a good memory.”

“Thanks. One does like to take note of details. So tell me: whence cometh the advice?”

“Huh?”

Rarity rolled her eyes. “Why did you say that?” she translated.

“Well, because I was just confused by the ‘whence cometh the advice’ bit.”

“I meant why did you say this hat would help me on my quest?”

Comprehension was slow to dawn on Derpy’s face today, but when it did, it brightened with the ever-present beaming smile of innocence.

“Oh, that! I didn’t mean a real quest. It was just a metaphor.”

The singing outside grew louder, outcompeting the laughter and whispering. “For what?”

“Your quest to be the best, of course!”

And now I’m called Princess. Rarity also thought of the letters upstairs, and of the snow outside, and of the carol singers drawing in the town right outside her door, and lastly of the smile on Derpy’s face. Her friend Pinkie Pie always said the best thing ever was a smile on the right face at the right place at the right time, though in Pinkie’s case those categories had been extremely broad.

Rarity returned the smile, and thus spread the joy. “Our quest, I believe it is now. Come; let us innovate for the tradition! Let us say, ‘Happy Hearth’s Warming to all!’”

“‘And to all a good summer!’” Derpy flapped and rose up on the wings of exhilaration.

“Quite,” said Rarity, opening the door to the dazzling white. “Not a line you get to say often, I’ll grant you that.”

Author on Board [to shortskirtsandexplosions, from Pwnego]

Flash Sentry went about his business, not realizing that, all the while, Super (SECRET!) Party Planner Pinkie Santa Pie was watching. At lunch, she sat at the table behind his, her puffy pink hair obscured by a pink (and therefore questionably obfuscating) wide-brim hat. While Flash Drive rehearsed in the auditorium, she hid in the sound booth, snacking on cupcakes and puff-pastry. (She was too busy spying during lunch-time, so she had to take her lunch then… While spying.) During P.E., she hid behind the bleachers, her pink trench-coat stirred by the occasional breeze.
When school let out, she skipped her way to the mall. The pink-clad P.I. - “Hah! ‘P.I.’ I get it! Like ‘Pie’. That’s pretty funny,” - The pink-clad P.I. had a meeting with her client. She stopped for a moment on the sidewalk. “Whoops, did I interrupt you? Sorry, I got excited.” She stood there for a moment.
The moment stretched a little too long, and it must be said that her apology was gracious, but unwarranted; the little jokes one stumbles upon in life bear remark. Perhaps more of us could afford to be a little more light-hearted about things.
The Mysterious Mistress of Mirth incognitoed her way through the mall - unseen, unheard, the very vision of stealth. Or perhaps, the very lack of vision? Eh? Eh?
“Don’t try too hard,” she said. But she said it around a mouth full of giggles; take that as you will.
Anyway, Pinkie P.I. strolled into Sushi Shack. The atmosphere thrummed with subaudible tension. The air was thick with aroma: spicy tuna, wasabi, uncontested melancholy. She produced a manila envelope (from nowhere in particular), passed patrons drowning their sorrow in yellowtail and smelt roe, and met her client in a corner booth.
Sunset Shimmer quirked an eyebrow.
Pinkie P.I. set the folder down in front of her and took a seat. “It’s all here, Sunset. All of it.”
Sunset Shimmer quirked-er an eyebrow. And smirked, let’s be fair. “What’s all here, Pinkie?” She laughed a comfortable, friendly laugh, “And what are you wearing?”
“Oh!” Suddenly, the context (or lack thereof) of the conversation seemed apparent to Pinkie Pie, “This is just my Pinkie Pie P.I. Super Sleuthing outfit!”
“And,” Sunset Shimmer flicked through the folder, “You have pictures of Flash Sentry…” She placed a picture on the table, “Rehearsing with his band.” She set down another picture, “Eating a sandwich.”
“Running track!”
Sunset Shimmer tried to maintain a bemused expression, but it was clear that she was also amused by the whole situation. “Is this… Because I asked you for advice about his Christmas gift?”
“Of course! When I realised that I didn’t know what to get Flash, I knew that I had to find out! How else would I call myself a disciple of the Marvelous Present Maker and Procurer Maud Pie!?”
“Huh. I didn’t realise that you put so much into gift giving, Pinkie.”
“Oh, yeah! I’ve got gift ideas for all of my friends for the big gift-giving occasions for the next five years. Plus some Just-In-Case Gifts!”
Sunset looked forlornly into the distance: “I should have known that. I guess I’m not making as much progress on this friendship-thing as I thought.”
Pinkie Pie’s expression became one of genuine worry and regret - for an instant. Then she plopped her backpack on the table and began exaggeratedly digging through it. “Let’s see… ‘Rainbow-Dash-Needs-A-Comeback-Pepup,’ no. ‘Sunset-Shimmer-And-Sci-Twi-Need-Some-Ambiance,’ closer. Here we go!” She set a box on the table. It was gift-wrapped.
“Is that... For me?”
“Well, duh. Open it!”
Sunset opened it and found a tiara. It was gold with a purple star-burst gem set at the peak of the arch. “This is...”
“An -” She took a deep breath - “Actually-I-Have-So-Much-Confidence-In-Our-Friendship-I-Would-Give-You-The-Superweapon-You-Tried-Steal-When-You-Were-Evil Gift.”
Sunset Shimmer held the tiara in her hands, and her eyes began to water. “Pinkie, I… I need to go.”
“Oh. Oka - ” No. Don’t let the moment slip away. The gesture was a potent one - more so than her background of solitude and villainy has trained her to be comfortable with. Sunset Shimmer rose to leave. She’s not leaving because you did something wrong; she’s leaving because you did something right. But, you’re her friend. She doesn’t have - “It’s okay, Sunset.” Pinkie Pie giggled nervously and said, “We’re friends. We can share moments like these.”
Sunset sat back down. She kept her eyes averted. “Yeah, I guess I...” She brought her eyes back to Pinkie. “Thank you, Pinkie.” Sunset laughed. She shook her head, smiling, and said, “I’m going to go get a California roll. I’ll be right back.”

In the privacy of the booth, Pinkie said, “Wow! Now that was a party. Say, Steven, when did you get so sappy? And, now that I think of it, have you changed style? Hmmm?”

Heh. I’m not Steven. Though, I did try to mimic his style some. Doesn’t seem to have worked out too well, though. Shrug

Pinkie Pie’s eyes opened wide. “Not Steven!?”

Right. I’ve hijacked some of his work to write this for him. I’m his Secret Santa. Imitation and flattery and all that.

“Oh. Oh! OHH! Wait a minute! You mean that I’M IN A GIFT RIGHT NOW!?”

;-)

And that was the moment that Sunset Shimmer returned - the exact moment that Pinkie Pie’s head exploded. It inflated like a balloon, and burst with a hollow pop, showering Sunset in cotton-candy hair and felt-matter.

Okay, Pinkie, pull yourself together. We’ve got a word-count to reach and a story to finish.

Pinkie Pie reassembled herself, laughing, and Sunset casually pitched her tray into the nearest waste basket.

“Uh, Pinkie… Are you okay? That seems like the kind of thing you’d only do in a song or something.”

“Uh huh; I’m great! Let’s wrap this gift!”
“Hm? Oh, right. I guess we still haven’t picked out a gift for Flash.” Pinkie Pie deflated.
Sigh. Pink - “Wait,” Sunset took the tiara back in her hands and looked at it meaningfully, “I have an idea.”

Flash Sentry parked in front of the gymnasium, not knowing that Super (Secret) Party PonyPerson Pinkie Pie had worked tirelessly (and with the help of some friends) to redecorate the building’s interior for the evening’s festivities. He walked in and found himself surrounded by streamers - soft lights and the slow rotating illumination of a disco ball. The Rainbooms were playing slow, inoffensive music on a stage at the back of the building. This was a dangerous gambit, playing on harsh memories. Flash looked around. His eyes found Sunset and then narrowed. He strode purposefully toward her. “Is this a joke?” the conflict of emotions in his words is difficult to describe.
“No,” Sunset said easily. She would have to be gentle here. “It’s the Sadie Hawkins dance.”
“I noticed,” sorrow there. Then confusion: “I don’t - ”
“It was our first date. You were the most popular guy in school. We walked through those doors - ” She looked past him to the doors he had just walked through - “And I looked out to everyone looking at us -”
“I’ve already forgiven you for that - if this is about...” He couldn’t quite articulate farther than that. “You don’t have to...” He shook his head.
Suddenly, the context of the conversation seemed apparent to Sunset, and her expression lightened. “No, she said. Look. I remember - you told me - do you remember? You said, ‘Thank you for a night to remember.’” She moved past him - her back to the doors; his to the stage.
“Yeah,” he said, putting a hand through his hair. “Kind of dumb.”
She laughed, “but honest.”
“Yeah, heh.”
“But it’s not a night to remember anymore.”
He sighed. “Yeah.”
“I took that memory from you, so I wanted to give you another one.” She extended her hand to him. The signal.
“Look, Sunset, I know you feel guilty. And this must have taken a lot of work and all, but we’re not - ”
“Ladies and Gentlemen!” said Pinkie from the stage. Sunset shifted her extended hand to gesture toward the stage. “Her Majestic Royalness, Princess Twilight Sparkle!”
Flash turned to see Twilight emerge onto the stage. He turned back toward Sunset who shrugged uncomfortably and smiled. He turned back to the stage. He turned back to Sunset. “Merry Christmas,” she said. Flash hugged her. She hugged him back. Then they broke, and he made for the stage.
Sunset watched him go. Then she looked up to Pinkie Pie. She thought about how happy she was to have Pinkie in her life. And so did I.