Pressed for Time

by Aragon

First published 23rd of January, 2019

Vinyl and Octavia need to hug for eight hours – or the building explodes.

Vinyl and Octavia need to hug for eight hours – or the building explodes.

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A commission for Dakastan, edited by MrNumbers. Special thanks to him, and to Crystal Wishes for the ornithological help.

Patreon. Ko-fi. Picture of me looking handsome

Chapter One – A Sight to Behold

Vinyl Scratch knew a lot about Destiny, which is why she never really stopped hating it.

This is a story about many things. Both Vinyl and Octavia could tell you—but it changes depending on who you ask. See, the way Vinyl tells it, this is a story about sacrifice, and vanity, and how hard it is to know what’s right. The way Octavia tells it, it’s a story about love, and discovery, and just how great she is as a pony, in general.

Neither of them is completely right. But, then again, neither is completely wrong.

Ultimately, when you really get to it, this is a story about being a hero, and the dark side of courage.

Everything started at Pony Joe’s, a wonderful little Canterlot diner, as long as you didn’t mind grease on the walls and a coffee that made it very clear that the owner would rather you bring your own drinks. Just ask for the donuts—those are good. It was a sunny peaceful afternoon, of the kind that comes right before a terrible storm that has nothing to do with the weather.

It was exactly twenty-four hours before the bomb would go off, and Vinyl Scratch already felt like she was going to explode.

“So you’re telling me,” she said, as she leaned over the table and looked at Bon Bon, sitting in front of her. “That the only way I can fulfill my dreams is to commit high treason and do something illegal.”

Bon Bon was sipping on some horrid coffee. “Uh-huh.”

“Like. Extremely illegal.”

“And they know who you are, so if they catch you, you’re going to jail. Probably for life.” Bon Bon arched an eyebrow. “You think you might survive that?”

Vinyl blinked. You couldn’t see it, she was wearing her shades, but she blinked anyway. “Survive what? Jail?”

“Yeah.”

“Hahah. No. Celestia, I would super die in there, are you kidding me?” Vinyl took a deep breath, and then looked down at the table, ears flat against her head. “Okay, so. Chase my dream, and in exchange I run the risk of ruining my life forever. What an offer.”

“There’s more though, so don’t rush to make a decision yet.” Bon Bon sipped some more coffee. “There’s a catch.”

Pause.

Vinyl took her shades off, so her eyes were out for everypony to see. They were nothing special. “There’s a—there’s a catch,” she said.

“Yes.”

“What do you mean, a catch. Is the fact that I’m probably going to ruin my life counted as a plus or…?”

Bon Bon smirked.

Now, Bon had a hell of a smirk. The kind of that made you think, this mare knows how to rock a tuxedo. This mare enjoys martinis. This mare knows how to make pretty girls cling to her hooves.

But more importantly, it was a smirk that meant danger, and many monsters threatening Equestria had learned this the hard way in the past. It was a smirk that meant, things are getting interesting.

It was a smirk that gave Vinyl chills on sight. And that was absolutely the right reaction.

“Listen to me, Scratch.” Bon Bon put the coffee cup down, and gave her friend a good look. She was dressed as a civilian during this meetup, but she still managed to sound like a government official when she talked like this. “I wouldn’t bring anything like this up if this weren’t a real chance for you. This can be your big shot. If all goes well, you might score yourself a meeting with Record Label.”

Vinyl nodded. “You’re absolutely counting me ruining my life as a plus, aren’t you.”

“Record Label, Scratch. Record Label.”

Record Label. What to say, really.

Record Label was one of those wealthy, important, cohesive ponies. Their name alone could tell you what they did, why they were so rich, and why they were so important. Record Label was the reason why the word ‘monopoly’ had become trendy in Canterlot twenty years ago.

He wasn’t just the best at his job. He was the only one at his job. If you were a musician, getting to Record Label’s good side was like winning the lottery, only the lottery can also break the kneecaps of those who don’t buy a ticket.

Which is why Vinyl hesitated. “…It is kind of a big deal. Gotta give you that,” she said.

“Oh, you gotta give me that and more, Scratch,” Bon said. “Record Label never attends public events, precisely because desperate musicians like you would make his life impossible if he did. This is a one-in-a-million chance that I’m offering you.” She shot Vinyl a wink. “And that is why I’m counting you risking your future as a plus!”

Pause.

“That makes absolutely no sense whatsoev—”

“However,” Bon said, raising a hoof to interrupt Vinyl, “keep in mind that this is ridiculously confidential. Matter of national security, and all that, right? Nopony else knows who’s invited to tomorrow’s party. I think we’re officially expecting some kind of attack or something.”

“Right, right. Of course.” Vinyl nodded. “Of course.” And then she frowned, and took off her shades. “Wait, but you’re allowed to tell me of all ponies?”

“What?” Bon blinked, legitimately surprised. In that moment, she looked like any other mare, rather than like a government worker. “Allowed? Oh, wow, no. Not at all. This is, like, a huge crime I’m committing right now.” She nodded to herself and took a sip off her coffee. “Just being here with you while on duty is, I mean. High treason.” Another sip. “At least.”

“Ah. Well.” Vinyl put her shades on again. They made her face rather hard to read. “Bon, you’re a terrible secret agent, did you know that.”

“Nah, I’m the best.” Bon waved a hoof and winked at Vinyl, and she was brimming with so much confidence she almost made it work. Almost. “That’s why it’s high treason, instead of regular treason, right?”

“Of course.”

“Yeah I’m even talking about it in public? Like...” Bon looked around, waved at some of the regulars that were sitting at neighboring tables, and never lost her smile. “Hoo boy. Equestria is in so much danger right now. We’re really bad at national security, have you ever noticed that?”

“Somehow it always slipped my mind.”

“Fancy that, really.” Bon stopped waving and took some more coffee, then winked at Vinyl again. “So that’s the good part. Now, here’s the catch.”

Vinyl nodded. “Shoot.”

“There’s gonna be a lot of dragons attending that party, too.”

Vinyl had to blink twice before the words made it to her brain. “Wh—” She choked. “What?”

“Dragons,” Bon said. “Like, pretty much all of them? All the ones that fit in the city at least. So, yeah, a lot of dragons.”

“All the ones that fit the—okay. Okay. I mean.” Vinyl had to cough to clear her throat, then flashed her horn and floated Bon Bon’s cup of coffee towards her mouth. She only managed to speak after a long gulp. “Dragons. You mean, the lizards. The ones that breathe fire.” She looked at the cup. “Also, this is terrible.”

“Isn’t it?” Bon said, smiling. “It’s a guilty pleasure.”

“It tastes like dish soap.”

“Tastes like adventure. I like the sense of danger it gives me.” Bon shrugged. “Anyway, yes, I mean those dragons. Big things, scaley, full of murder? The ones that sorta go…?” Bon Bon waved a hoof in the air, put on a scary face. “Raaargh? And then they murder you?”

“Right.”

“Those ones. That kind of dragon.”

Pause.

“Bon.”

“Scratch?”

“What the flying horsef—why would you have dragons there?” Vinyl stared at Bon Bon. She took another gulp of coffee. It made her cringe, but she swallowed. “Why in Equestria would anypony bring dragons to a fancy party? Those things eat ponies for breakfast!”

“Actually, they don’t?” Bon perked up her ears, and swapped the cup of coffee from Vinyl’s grasp. “Eat us for breakfast, I mean. They can survive off gems and fear alone.”

“Right. Right.” Vinyl nodded. “But they still eat ponies.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. But they don’t do it for the nourishment. It’s purely for the entertainment value.”

“Well! That’s just perfect, then!” Vinyl actually had to stop herself from grabbing the cup of coffee again. It was terrible, she was not lying, but some very unpleasant memories were coming back to her. Drinking dish soap was, if anything, a pretty good distraction, and she needed anything she could get at the moment. “They don’t even need the nutrients, they just do it for the cruelty of it all. Much more understandable.”

“Actually, yeah. You laugh, but that’s good news for us.”

Vinyl flared her nostrils. “Oh, I’m not laughing.” Then she got up and waved at the counter. “Joe! Two more coffees, please!” A glance at Bon. “This is where you explain yourself, by the way.”

Bon Bon gave Vinyl another of her signature smirks. “Knew it. Can’t resist the call, after all, eh?”

“I can resist it any time I want. But I know you wouldn’t talk like this unless you actually had a big thing going. I know you, Bon.” Joe came to the table, carrying two cups of steaming brown water with him, and set them on the table. Vinyl smiled at him. “Thanks.”

Joe didn’t smile back. “You could ask for some donuts, y’know? They’re actually pretty good.”

“Nah, we’re good.”

Joe left grumbling under his breath.

The moment he was out of earshot, Bon Bon grabbed the new cup of coffee, and nodded at Vinyl. “If they ate us because they need to, that would be a sticky situation, sure. But they don’t. They just do it because they seem to genuinely think murder is funny. And that’s great!”

“Every word that comes out of your mouth makes you sound more and more like a sociopath.” She took a sip of the coffee, cringed again. “By all means, go on.”

“If they just do it for the thrill, it means that they can stop doing it if we convince them to. There’s nothing forcing them to eat ponies, see?” Bon Bon took a sip, too, but her face remained perfectly neutral as she swallowed. “Dragons have never really been very into, uh. Friendship? Peace? Really, anything remotely civilized. But it’s hard to blame them—I’m not saying that murdering ponies is good by any means, but friendship has traditionally been the most effective dragonslaying weapon in History.”

“So they’re biased against it, is what you mean?” Vinyl asked.

“Yeah. They’re also genetically predisposed to try to eat any princess they stumble upon, so that’s another nasty habit. Blue blood’s tasty, turns out. But.” Bon Bon put the cup down. “They’re not stupid. They can learn, you can reason with them if they’re willing to listen—and Princess Celestia thinks there’s a chance there, because she’s too powerful to be eaten anyway, right?”

“Seems to me Princess Celestia is being really optimistic here.”

“She’s been in a very good mood ever since Princess Luna returned, leave her be,” Bon said, shrugging. “She thinks we can get them to stop being, you know. Heartless monsters. Maybe we can get them to go ‘Raaaargh’, and then not murder you. That’s what this party is all about.”

Vinyl arched an eyebrow. She was still wearing those shades, mind you, and they covered most of her face—but she arched her eyebrow so much, it became visible behind the glasses. “And you’re telling me the dragons agreed to do this? The same dragons you just told me like to eat ponies to have a giggle?”

“Actually, I don’t think they giggle. They cackle. They’re really good at it too.” Bon Bon shrugged. “And they did, actually. You have to admit, Princess Celestia does have a point.”

“Oh, do they.” Vinyl’s voice was harsh. “Does she. Really now.”

“Come on, Scratch. You’re from Ponyville too. You know what I’m talking about.”

This made Vinyl pout, and drink some more coffee in protest. Because, much as it pained her, she knew what Bon was talking about.

Because Bon Bon and Vinyl weren’t just friends, they were neighbors, and they didn’t live in Canterlot. They both came from Ponyville, a little town near the Everfree, a town that Twilight Sparkle had been calling her home for the last few years.

And with Princess Twilight Sparkle came…

“Spike the Dragon,” Vinyl grumbled, taking off her shades so she could rub the space between her eyes. “Right. There’s a precedent of dragons not being monsters, I guess.”

“It’s not just Spike. I mean, sure. He’s the best example we’ve got—but there are more.” Bon drank some more coffee. “There’s a new Dragonlord. Name’s Ember. Good guy. She’s never killed anyone.” Pause. “That we know of.”

“You’re really bad at your job, Bon.”

“I might not be good, but I’m still the best.” Bon gave Vinyl another of her tuxedo winks, the ones that made you realize this mare could sweettalk your mother into burning your house down if she wanted to. “I don’t know how good you are at math, Scratch, but that’s two dragons who understand the concept of not-murder, and counting. We might be onto something here.”

Vinyl liked to think of herself as a civilian nowadays, but she still remembered a couple things from her previous work. So she had to nod here. “They go ‘Raaargh’ but they don’t murder you. That’s our current goal.”

“Yeah. See what I mean? This is not as baseless as it sounds.” Bon tapped the table. “There are high chances of a dragon-pony alliance in the future, and that would be huge for Equestria. We would have a lot to gain.”

“Why. What do we have to gain. What could we possibly get from something like a dragon-pony alli—”

“They would stop killing every pony they find, Scratch.”

Pause.

“Shoot.” Vinyl slouched on her seat. “That’s a good point, actually.”

“The only ones I make, girl.”

“But—just. Dragons!” Vinyl rubbed the space between her eyes again. “Dragons at the party. Celestia forbid my life be easy for once. Why is Record Label going to the murder party, again?”

“Because rich ponies are insane?”

“Right, sure, yes. But, like.” Vinyl joined her hooves behind her chin. “Aside from that?”

“Oh? Well, you know. He’s nobility. The party will be a social gathering of sorts. And to be fair?” Bon Bon shrugged. “Greedy, giant figures of power and death—I can see them getting along.”

“Wonderful.”

For a moment, Bon looked at Vinyl, and she didn’t look like a secret agent anymore. The smirk went away, her ears went flat against her head, and she just looked like a good friend, worried for somepony she cared about.

Then she talked, and her voice came out surprisingly sweet. “…Scratch,” she said. “Jokes aside, don’t feel forced to do go there and risk, well. Anything, I guess. You said you didn’t like the idea of going to jail either, right?”

“Bit against it.”

“Right. So that’s also bad.” Bon Bon swallowed. “As rare as it is for Record Label to get out, you don’t… have to do anything. Sneaking into the party is—”

“Oh, please.” Vinyl put her shades on again. They covered most of her face, so it was hard to read her expression. “I’m not an idiot. You’re risking your job right now, all for my sake. The least I can do is return in kind, don’t you think?”

Bon Bon nodded, said nothing.

And then Vinyl lifted her shades with her magic. Just a little, just enough to show off her eyes.

They were shining.

“Trust me,” she said, “I’ll make it out.”

Then the smirk was back, and Bon Bon looked like a sexy secret agent once again, ready to save the world and look dapper in the meantime. “Atta girl,” she said. “Listen, the backdoor to the Castle Garden will be open for ten minutes after eleven. The Royal Guards won’t appear till three minutes past that because there’s been a—” Bon winked “—scheduling error.”

“Wait.” Vinyl’s ears perked up. “Did you actually weaken the Castle’s security when you’re waiting for an attack just so I could get in? Bon, I don’t think that’s—”

“Hey.” Bon frowned. “Don’t insult me. I would never do such a thing.” She waved a hoof in the air. “This is literally just Princess Celestia being terrible at national security, is all.”

“…Ah.”

“Like, that wasn’t an euphemism. There is a scheduling error in the guarding of that backdoor gate. I keep telling you, we as a species are really bad at this whole thing.”

“Right.” Vinyl’s ears perked down. “Well. That’s only slightly more concerning.”

“Also, uh. A bit awkward but…” Bon Bon bit her lower lip. “Daring Do will be at the party. She’s investigating something related to the dragons, and—”

Vinyl shook her head. “Whatever. I’ll avoid her.”

“...Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’ll do that. Thought you would like to know beforehand just in case.”

“I do. Thanks for the warning; I appreciate it.”

“Right.” Bon Bon nodded. “So anyway: backdoor. There will be no Royal Guards. There will be birds around, but they owe me one, so they won’t blow your cover. You’ll see a small brown pathway that the gardeners use—follow it and you’ll make it to the main gazebo. The party will be right there, so just blend in.”

Vinyl nodded, smiling, too. “Right.”

“Place will be full of dragons, sure, but it should be easy enough. You got it all?”

“Uh-huh.” Vinyl nodded again. “Sneak in, bushes, path, gazebo, no birds. Then I just blend in, impress Record Label, and carve myself a future.” Vinyl’s voice was full of bite. She had butterflies in her stomach. The good kind. “Sounds easy enough.”

“So you think you can manage?”

“Oh, definitely. What could possibly go wrong?”

The next day, Vinyl didn’t make it two steps past the backdoor.

“Good morning, mysterious stranger who sneaked into the party without an invite!” Princess Luna said, as she jumped from behind one of the bushes to look at Vinyl with a bright smile on her face. “I am here to tell you that you just committed a crime, and you are probably going to jail!”

There was a tiny pause. Luna’s words echoed across the Garden.

Vinyl stared.

And then Luna offered Vinyl a hoof. “Also, hi! I am Princess Luna. How are you doing. My sister is terrible at security but I am also a Princess here now. We work well as a team. I am charmed to meet you!”

Then her horn flashed, and the backdoor behind Vinyl closed with a loud CLACK!

Vinyl looked at her only escape route, now closed off, and then at Princess Luna. She put on her best smile, and took Luna’s hoof. She gave it a fair shake. “Uh, hi,” she said. “I’m, uh, I’m Vinyl Scratch. Charmed to meet you too.” She swallowed. “So. ‘Probably’ going to jail, you said?”

“Yes! I did say that! And since I know who you are, Vinyl Scratch, it is almost guaranteed that you are going to die in there! It is a very nasty place.”

“Of course. Of course.”

And that’s why, ten minutes before the bomb entered her life, Vinyl Scratch met Octavia Pianissimo.

She did not like what she saw.

Octavia was, from the very beginning, a sight to behold. A show-stopper. She was gray, groomed, and gorgeous. She was sitting like a true lady—pony knees don’t bend that way; Octavia was apparently too elegant to care—and she was sipping tea from a teacup that was just tacky enough to be expensive.

She was, in other words, a purebreed Canterlot elite. That’s why Vinyl didn’t like it: Octavia wasn’t just a noblepony. She was someone whose blood had more gold than iron.

And then Octavia smiled, a huge, cheery smile that didn’t seem to fit such an elegant frame, and chirped: “Thank you! That’s not true? But I’m taking it as a compliment!” She had an exquisite accent, a voice of cinnamon and rosewater. “Plus, it’s true that I am ridiculously aristocratic.”

Vinyl blinked. “Uh,” she said. “Wait, shoot. Did I say all that out—”

“You did say all that out loud, yes!”

The place was Luna’s study. Octavia was sitting by the northernmost corner, on an expensive-looking sofa, by the table. She was sipping tea, of course, and looking right at home amidst the wealth.

Not like it was hard, though. Luna’s study was a room on top of the Castle’s second-highest tower.

There was enough space in that room to house a crowd and still feel empty—but the carpet was soft and fluffy, and the chairs were of old wood. The fire was cracking, the windows were wide open. The walls were cream-colored. There were sofas, there were bookshelves, there were portraits hung around.

There was a dragon standing in the middle of the room.

“MU-HAH. HAH. HAH.”

Cackling.

It wasn’t a big dragon. It was rather tiny, in fact—barely taller than a pony—and young to boot. His scales were red, his teeth were sharp, and he was wearing a white, oversized lab coat.

By his side stood Princess Luna.

“WAH, HAH, HAH!”

Also cackling.

This had been going on for several minutes.

“…Hey.” Vinyl sat down on the sofa, too, by Octavia’s side. “Out of curiosity, have you ever looked at something, and thought ‘wow, I’m going to get murdered today’?” She pointed at Princess Luna and the dragon. “Because I look at that, and, you know. Wow, I’m going to get murdered today.”

“Hm.” Octavia glanced at the dragon and princess, still sipping from her cup, frowning slightly. “I don’t think I’m familiar with that feeling” she said. “But thank you for opening the door to your mind like that. It’s a very fascinating outlook!”

“Trust me, the pleasure is mine.” Vinyl let out a frustrated grunt that was probably intended to sound like a sigh, but in practice just sounded like she had just punched herself in the stomach. “Also, I’m assuming here that you would get murdered too. Hence the comment. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, I don’t! By all means, keep hoping. I didn’t know commoners were so keen on murder, but in a twisted way, it does sound pretty fun!” A smile, the hint of a wink, and Octavia put the cup down and offered Vinyl a hoof. “I’m Oct—”

“Octavia Pianissimo, yeah,” Vinyl interrupted. “Princess Luna mentioned you.” Then, she reached for Octavia’s hoof…

And then she stopped.

There was something peculiar in the way Octavia was holding out her hoof—and it took a moment for Vinyl to see why. It was because Octavia wasn’t expecting Vinyl to shake it. She was expecting her to kiss it.

It was then that Vinyl noticed for the first time—definitely not the last—that she had absolutely no idea how old Octavia was. She didn’t look young, or old, or anything in between. Between her grinning eyes, and the gray coat, and the bowtie, she had a strange air of timelessness. She was something you’d see in an old postcard.

So Vinyl shook her hoof anyway, because sometimes you just need to make a statement. “Whatever,” she said. “Vinyl Scratch.”

Octavia blinked, at looked at their hooves. Squinting a little, she moved her leg up and down in slow motion before letting Vinyl go. “Aaah-hah! I see. Miss Scratch!” And then she smiled. It looked genuine. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Yeah. Say, Miss Pianissimo?”

And then Octavia chuckled, and this time, for sure, it was genuine. “Oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Just ‘Octavia’ is good! ‘Pianissimo’ is the name of—”

“The name of your mother, neat, original. Octavia. Any idea when we can get out of here?” Vinyl shifted in her seat, looking around, trying to get all of the room at once. In the background, Luna and the dragon stopped laughing for a moment, took a deep breath, and continued. “I sort of have plans, and I’m not digging this whole murder thing, to be honest?”

“Well!” Octavia closed her eyes and went for the teacup again. She took a long sip before answering. “I hate to give you bad news, Miss Scratch, but—” She paused and tilted her head to the side slightly. “Say,” she said. “Do you mind if I just call you ‘Vinyl’? It’s is bit tacky to ask that, but I just hate formalities.”

“Octavia.”

“Miss Scratch?”

“Do I look like I care about tacky.” Vinyl’s voice was a monotone. “Like. In the slightest.”

“Hmmm.” Octavia took a sip to buy some time. “Well. I don’t know! Is that how you usually style your mane? Willingly?”

“Yes.”

“Vinyl it is, then!” Octavia said, face lighting up like a starry night. “And you said you had other plans?”

“Uh-huh.”

And Octavia made a face. It was a pretty face—this was Octavia doing it—but not in a good way. “Well, that is… unfortunate?” She looked at Luna and the dragon. Still cackling. “I do not think we’ll be able to leave any time soon. Princess Luna is lovely! I really like her. But, she only dances to her own beat? You know how us aristocrats are.”

Vinyl’s frown furrowed on its own, pretty much. “Ugh. A massive pain.”

“In a way! We do routinely oppress you in all social matters to establish our dominance. It’s a pride thing!” Octavia said. “So I don’t think she is going to respect your schedule. I know I wouldn’t!” Another sip of tea, and then Octavia blinked, and gave Vinyl a little smile. “Um. No offense.”

“No, no, none taken. Nobleponies are evil, I get it.” Vinyl jumped off the sofa with surprising grace, and took off her glasses to give Luna a good look before turning to face Octavia again. “Do you think they’ll mind if I just leave?”

Octavia blinked. Her eyelashes fluttered quite beautifully. “I don’t think they’ll let you!”

“Sneaking out, then?”

Octavia cocked her head to the side. She had such an easy smile that you could see it in her even when she was serious. “I wouldn’t recommend that either” she said.

“What. You gonna snitch on me?”

“Oh, Vinyl, I would never! I wouldn’t need to, mind you. But I would never!” Then Octavia pointed at Luna and the dragon. “Apex predator! You don’t make it to the top of the food chain letting ponies sneak by. It is a really big faux pas, I’ve been told!”

“Uh.” Vinyl frowned. She looked at the two cackling figures, and then at Octavia, and then she frowned a bit more. “Um.”

“Yes?”

“Are you pointing at the Princess or at the dragon?”

“At both!”

Pause.

Vinyl let out another grunt and sat down again. “Wow, we’re going to get murdered today.”

And Octavia let out a springwater laugh, and then rested her back on the sofa, scooting slightly closer to Vinyl.

There wasn’t much to talk about after this, and neither mare really tried to strike up any conversation. They mostly just looked at each other and waited, Vinyl significantly more uncomfortable than Octavia, who was honestly having a lot of fun.

Because Vinyl was also a sight to behold, in her own way. She wasn’t the prettiest mare around, but she moved in a strange way to Octavia, Canterlot born and raised, used to nothing but the most graceful of gestures, courtesy of years and years of formal education. In comparison, most commoners moved like absolute brutes—which was great for the nobles; more fuel for the fire—but Vinyl wasn’t like that either.

She didn’t really have grace, but she didn’t seem clumsy either. Vinyl Scratch moved as if she were careful to make no unnecessary sounds at all times, as if she were stronger than she looked.

This alone was interesting enough—but that mane, too! Those glasses on her face! It was definitely a change from the usual Canterlot fashion, and while Octavia didn’t like it, well. It was fun to look at.

So she sat there, and had the time of her life. Three minutes passed in silence.

Luna and the dragon didn’t join them.

“Boy,” Vinyl eventually said, looking at Octavia. “These two are happy to be here.”

“Aren’t they? It’s so cute! I am slightly troubled that Mister Labcoat the dragon might eat me, though, but I’m sure he’ll ask for permission first.” Then Octavia shot Vinyl a side glance. “Say, Vinyl? Why are you here? You don’t really look like you belong in this little gathering. I wouldn’t want you to feel unwelcome, but—”

Vinyl waved a hoof in the air, dismissive. “Trust me, I already feel unwelcome. I feel unwelcome everywhere.” She pointed at her mane. “Natural color, remember?”

“I do! I do remember. That is a horrible color.”

“Thank you, you too. And,” Vinyl added, arching an eyebrow, “I didn’t want to be at this little gathering, actually. Princess Luna kinda dragged me here against my will.”

“Oooh. Oooh, yeah. She does that a lot, doesn’t she?” nodded sagely. “It is always very unfortunate when she does that. Still, it is a surprise to hear that about you!”

“Yeah, I know,” Vinyl said, opening her eyes wide, pressing a hoof against her chest. “I didn’t actually consent to a meeting with two psycho killers! Shocking.”

“It is! It is shocking. I do not think they are psycho killers, though?” Octavia shook her head and frowned at Vinyl—but it wasn’t an angry frown. If anything, it was just cutesy. “In fact, I find them to be very pleasant!”

Vinyl arched an eyebrow at this, and looked at Princess Luna.

Cackling.

Then, she looked at the dragon.

Cackling.

Then at Octavia. “Very pleasant,” Vinyl said. “Do you have any idea why they’re laughing, exactly?”

“Oh, they’re just happy to be here, is all. That’s how those two show their glee.”

Pause.

Vinyl took off her shades again. “They’re just,” she said, “happy to be here. They cackle maniacally whenever they meet. That’s how they show their happiness.”

“That is actually a very accurate description of them, yes!” Octavia said, nodding again, this time with more enthusiasm. “They are terribly maladjusted to modern society. Most ponies think they’re psychopaths. Just like you!”

“…You mean that I believe that, or that I myself am one?”

“I don’t know! I really don’t like your mane, so it’s hard to judge. But you sound very nice, too! So anything goes.”

“Right.” Vinyl sighed. “Thank you, I guess. Were some of your ancestors cousins, by any chance?”

“Chances are! That is how nobility tends to work.” Octavia cocked her head to the side. “How did you know?”

“Something in the way you speak just screams ‘inbreeding’ to me.”

“Hahah. I’m going to take that as a compliment.” And Octavia said this with such cheerful glee that Vinyl couldn’t help but think she was being sarcastic, even if literally nothing in her face or attitude indicated anything of the sorts. “Well, I’m sorry you were dragged here against your will, Vinyl. I did come here because I wanted to, though. So at least that’s that!”

“Sorta figured that last one out by myself, yeah,” Vinyl said. “Odd way to spend the morning.”

“Oh, well. Princess Luna asked me personally, and I couldn’t just say no.” Octavia looked at Vinyl. “She’s an old family friend, you understand.”

Problem with taking your shades to react to something is—you can only do it once. Vinyl just looked at Octavia after this, maybe squinting a little, to give the gesture more of a bite. “Princess Luna,” she said. “Old family friend.”

Octavia showed Vinyl the most brilliant of smiles, a twenty carat grin. Positively wonderful, in the most obnoxious of ways. “Why, yes!”

“That Princess Luna.”

“I don’t think there’s any other!”

“I don’t—I thought she was banished for a thousand years?” Vinyl squinted. “She came back, like, three years ago. And she’s an old family friend?”

“Mmm.” A nod. “I think I had already said that I’m… how was it?” Octavia tapped her chin. “Ridiculously aristocratic?”

“Ah.” Vinyl blinked. Her ears went down. “Right. Old blood.”

“The oldest!” Octavia said. “It is very convenient overall.” And she put down her cup, and got off from the sofa. “If you’re in such a hurry, I believe there’s only one sensible thing to do!”

Vinyl thought about it for a second or two.

“Jump off the window?”

“Speak with the dragon!”

“Okay, but what if I just jump off the window. Like.” Vinyl squinted. “What if we try that first.”

“Hahah. We are not going to do that. And Mister Labcoat is perfectly safe!” Octavia shook her head and let out a laugh, and as she trotted towards the dragon, she shot Vinyl a funny look. “I assure you nothing bad is going to happen. Trust me!”

“…You know, due to recent events, I’m pretty sure that’s, like, the worst thing you can ever say in a situation like this? So what if we calm down and consider the window thing a bit harder first—”

Octavia Pianissimo was already walking towards Luna and the dragon.

Princess Luna and the dragon—who looked bigger now, that’s for sure, although the labcoat he was wearing still looked oversized—kept on cackling through it all, seemingly unaware of anypony approaching them.

Octavia got to them, and greeted them with a perfectly symmetrical smile. “Excuse me!” she said. Then, again: “Excuse me! Princess Luna, Mister Labcoat? I am very sorry to interrupt your cackles, but I have a question! What is going on? Also, can we move on with whatever it is that is going on?”

Then, she had the audacity—the audacity—to point at Vinyl.

“That mare is named Vinyl Scratch! She sounds really nice, and also thinks you are…” Octavia frowned, tapped her muzzle with her hoof, lost in thought, and then looked at Vinyl. “What was it again? Psycho killers?”

Vinyl’s eyes were so wide open you could see them behind the shades. “I—”

“Psycho killers, yes! That’s what she said. I’m so good at remembering.” Then Octavia looked at Princess Luna and the dragon again, huge smile on. “So! This would be a great chance to prove her wrong! You can cackle more later if you want to. I might even join!”

Both Luna and the dragon stopped cackling, and glared. At Octavia, at Vinyl, at everything. They both just glared. It was terrifying.

Octavia turned to face Vinyl again, winked at her, and mouthed the words: “You’re welcome.”

Vinyl froze.

Dragons are apex predators. They’re murder made flesh, they’re bloodshed incarnate, they’re what happens when Mother Nature rolls up her sleeves and thinks, okay, now it’s time to get funky.

They’re big without being clumsy, they’re sharp without being brittle, and the only sure way to slay one of them is to make sure you’re poisonous when they eat you. Some say pride is their main flaw, perhaps the only one they have. But, then again—when you’re a dragon, you have a lot to be proud of.

All this to say that, look, when the red dragon moved, Vinyl Scratch kind of saw it coming. She’d been there before. But, she only saw it in the same sense that you can see lightning coming: it’s like a hunch, as if the air felt strange somehow and you could feel it before it even happens.

But even though you know it’s going to come, this doesn’t mean you can react to it. And, most importantly, this doesn’t mean lightning is a thing you can get away from.

So the red dragon moved, and Vinyl saw him coming, and it didn’t matter because he just picked her up off the ground like one picks up a stray toy, and then left her dangling from one of his claws.

Then he spoke. “My apologies,” he said, in a baritone that burned hotter than fire. He was wearing a labcoat and spoke with the intonation of a university professor. “I was just happy to be here. I will cackle no more.”

He shot Vinyl a dashing smile.

Pause.

Vinyl immediately started screaming.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—” She tried to struggle away from the dragon. No use. She flashed her horn to try to pry his claw open. No use. She went on screaming. “—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—” Mixed results.

Octavia reacted to all this in the way you’d expect a normal pony to react—shock, surprise, a bit of an empathic whimper—but Princess Luna was honestly too busy being herself to notice anything.

“So was I!” she said, and she was as chipper as a chocolate cookie. “Happy to be here, that is. It is a joyous occasion! But my apologies anyway, Octavia Pianissimo. I have still not mastered cackling, it seems. The timing is complicated.”

“It is said that thirty seconds to one minute of pure laughter seem to indicate peak levels of…” The dragon produced a notebook from his breast pocket. “Non-murderous glee. That is why we cackled.”

“—AAAAAAAAAAAA—”

“No, no. There is no need to scream. Look.” He showed Vinyl his notebook. “Non-murderous is underlined.”

“—AAAAAAAAAAAA—”

“Ah, um. Uh.” Octavia looked around, visibly puzzled—and she had to straighten out her bowtie for luck before she could dare to face the dragon. “Mist—Mister Labcoat?”

The dragon looked at her, still holding Vinyl up. “Yes?”

“—AAAAAAAAAAAA—”

“May I ask why are you… doing that?” Octavia pointed at Vinyl. “Because it looks rather ominous. Right, Princess Luna?”

Princess Luna looked, frowning. “Hmmm. Slightly.”

“Right, yes. See? She said it too! I don’t think grabbing Vinyl against her will is an appropriate gesture at all, Mister Labcoat.”

The dragon blinked, and looked at Octavia. Then, at Vinyl—who was desperately pawing at the air. The grip was too strong for her to wiggle properly.

“I do believe she’ll escape if I let her go,” the dragon said then. “I prefer to hold her now. Chasing her would be a bother.” Again, looking at the notebook: “There is a seventy-five percent chance that she will try to run away after I have shown my might. Ninety-eight if I intend to devour her.”

Pause.

The dragon looked at Luna. “Do I intend to devour her?”

Luna shook her head. “No, that is murder.”

“Even if I eat her alive?”

“—AAAAAA—WHAT. WHAT WAS THAT. WHAT DO YOU MEAN, EATING ME ALIVE.”

“Yes! Because that is actually worse. They do not enjoy getting chewed. Or…” Here Luna frowned, and cast a side glance at Octavia. “Um. You do not enjoy getting chewed, right?”

Octavia blinked. “Well,” she said, scratching the back of her neck. “I can’t speak for Vinyl, obviously…”

“YES. YES YOU CAN. I DO NOT, IN FACT, LIKE THE IDEA OF BEING CHEWED TO DEATH. THAT IS THE ABSOLUTE OPPOSITE OF HOW I INTENDED TO SPEND MY MORNING.”

“But I do have an inkling.” Octavia didn’t even look at Vinyl, she just kept doing her thing. “A faint intuition. And it tells me that she may not like it? So, just to be sure…”

“Right.” Luna nodded. “Thank you.” She turned to the dragon. “Mister Labcoat?”

“WHY ARE YOU ALL IGNORING ME.”

“They do not like getting eaten alive. It still counts as murder.”

“I see. That is good to know.”

“WAIT A MINUTE. ARE YOU ALL DOING THIS ON PURPOSE.”

“So there is only a seventy-five percent chance then.” The dragon put the notebook in his breast pocket again, and regarded Octavia and the hysterical Vinyl. “I apologize,” he said. “We dragons aren’t good at this whole peaceful civilization thing. Princess Luna is aiding me in my studies on the art of not killing ponies. Or mawing ponies.”

Another pause.

The dragon squinted, and looked at Luna again. “…Or devouring ponies?”

“Yes! You are a fast learner.”

“MY THROAT HURTS FROM SCREAMING.”

“Yes. Good.” The dragon nodded and lifted Vinyl to eye level. “I do not devour ponies also. There is no need to keep screaming.”

“OH.” Vinyl stopped wiggling, and flashed her horn to take off her shades and reveal her eyes. She looked manic, as if her eyes were going to pop out any moment. “OH, NOW YOU’RE TALKING TO ME?”

“I am, yes.”

“AND WHY ON EQUESTRIA WEREN’T YOU TALKING TO ME EARLIER?!”

“You kept screaming. It was uncomfortable.”

“It was kind of annoying,” Princess Luna added, nodding.

“And a little bit rude!” Octavia said. “But I’m sure you meant well. You’re a nice pony!”

Silence.

Vinyl gave up and stopped struggling. She put her shades on again. “I hate you all so much,” she said. “So much.”

Luna cocked her head to the side. “Oh?”

“I believe it’s a commonner thing, Princess,” Octavia said. “She’s being sarcastic!”

“Ooooh.”

And then Octavia winked at Vinyl and mouthed the words “you’re welcome.” Again.

“I am helping Mister Labcoat!” Luna remained completely unaware of any whisper or secret communication between the two mares in front of her. “That is what is happening, Octavia Pianissimo. You see, dragons are not good at the art of not killing, but the new Dragon Lord is fond of peaceful societies, and wants to give friendship a shot. My sister believes it possible, too.” She nodded to herself. “So I am teaching them how it goes. I once, too, felt the urge to murder everypony in Equestria. I relate to their struggle.”

“Yes, she relates. She relates very well.” The dragon nodded. “Us dragons solve everything with murder and wanton violence. But there are other ways. There are better ways. And we would like for friendship to stop being so good at slaying us.”

“Ah-hah. I see.” Octavia looked around, and found that there was no seat in sight—they were all standing in front of the fireplace—so she just sat on the carpet. She still made it look gracious. “Helping the dragons learn the meaning of friendship! That is a noble task. Probably.” She made herself comfortable. “Don’t you think, Vinyl?”

Vinyl was still being held by the dragon in midair, although her limbs were all limp now, hanging in the wind. “Octavia.”

“Yes?”

“We’re totally getting murdered.”

“Right. Yes.” Octavia looked at Luna. “That’s a bit of a concern, actually! Are we going to get murdered? Because it certainly feels that way.” She pointed. “Especially for Vinyl.”

“Yeah, especially for me.”

“No murder!” Luna said. “That much I can promise at least.”

“No murder,” the dragon added. “It is not your destiny to die today.”

“Good! Good. That is a relief. Did you hear that, Vinyl?” Octavia looked at her friend, who was still meekly pawing at the air, and still held by a dragon against her will. “We’re just taking part in Mister Labcoat’s lesson of friendship! No murder at all.” She nodded. “Also, Mister Labcoat, her name is Vinyl Scratch. Vinyl, this is Mister Labcoat!”

“Charmed.”

But Vinyl didn’t reply.

Something very interesting happened here, and it was perhaps the very first time that Octavia really saw Vinyl Scratch. Saw her for real, at a level that went beyond the mere surface.

And it was a very interesting surface! Vinyl was fit, and she moved in strange ways, and she wore those glasses, and she had that mane! One could get lost in those mannerisms. Octavia certainly had.

But there was much more to Vinyl Scratch, there was a level of complexity cleverly hidden behind those sunglasses. Character is not just in the things that we are, and it’s not the things that we look like. Character is, and has always been, the sum of all the things we do.

And in that moment, after Octavia had brilliantly introduced the dragon and solved every conflict in the room with her insane social skills, Vinyl Scratch just got very, very quiet, and very, very still.

She spoke with fear.

“What did you say?”

Mister Labcoat picked this up, too. “There are better ways to solve conflict?” he said.

“No. Not that. You said it was my destiny not to die today?” Vinyl swallowed, and then cleared her throat with a cough, and then she spoke more normally. “I need to get out of here. I need to get out now!”

“But I just promised that I will not do that.”

“Look, no offense, but I’m like seventy-five percent sure that you’re going to burn me alive at some point, and you’ll have no idea why that’s a bad thing.”

Labcoat heard this, frowned, and looked at his notebook. He paged through it a little.

Then he answered: “Seventy-three, actually.”

“Right. Octavia, when you tell my loved ones how I died, tell them that I called it? Because I called it so hard.”

“Will do!”

“No, no, no.” Luna took a step forward here, and something in her made everyone stop and stare. It was something about her presence; it always seemed to fill the room, no matter how empty. She was smiling, and it looked sweet, and motherly, and non-threatening. “I do not think you are going to die yet, Vinyl Scratch. At least not at the hands of Mister Labcoat. We have plans for you!”

“…What?”

“Yes! My sister has been planning this for weeks. And!” Luna pressed a hoof against her chest. “I helped! Which is why I also intend to teach Mister Labcoat that any conflict can be solved in a peaceful manner! No bloodshed. Just dialogue, politeness—”

“And,” Labcoat said, “a lot of hugs. Hugs are good for empathy.”

Then he moved again, and he reached for Octavia.

Octavia saw it coming, too, but she couldn’t react either. She was sitting on the carpet, right next to Mister Labcoat—already hard enough to dodge, and this was, lest we forget, a dragon.

Something you might not know unless you’ve encountered a monster yourself is that, unless you go through some severe training, there is no real survival instinct kicking when a dragon reaches for you. Because your instincts are wiser than you, and knows there is no chance for survival.

So you just turn off. Go limp. You paw the air a little bit, meekly, trying to look at least a little bit poisonous. You grab whatever non-lethal surface that comes by, in the hopes of the dragon leaving you there. You go on total autopilot.

Which means that, when Mister Labcoat stood there, one pony in each paw, and then pressed them together, well. They grabbed each other. They hugged each other, because that was the natural thing to do.

Princess Luna knew they were going to do this, so she flashed her horn and slid something between them. A thin, metallic rectangle, made of solid gold.

There was a

And that’s how Vinyl and Octavia found out about the bomb that would change their lives forever.

Chapter Two – I Feel like I Should Be Concerned

Let’s talk about hydras.

Hydras are strange. They’re terrifying, but not as terrifying as dragons. They’re strong, but not as strong as dragons. They’re good at killing things—but they’re not as good at it as dragons are.

They are, in other words, the red-headed stepchild of the universe. They’re eternal runner-ups, living under the shadow of the most perfect beasts Mother Nature ever created. They have multiple heads and eight times more teeth, but they can’t spit flames. They are bigger, but they can’t fly.

Here’s the thing, though: they have always killed more ponies on average than dragons.

This is because dragons are a no-win scenario. You don’t face a dragon, plain and simple—you lay down, close your eyes, and say your prayers. There is no survival instinct when you face a dragon. You just give up.

But hydras? Hydras only got a silver medal at the death race. You have a chance against a hydra. You can at least stand tall, grit your teeth, and face the monster. You can hope, you may make it home.

And then you don’t. Because the hydra tears you to pieces. Because a silver medal just means that you’re better than ninety-nine point nine percent of the population.

“And you’re telling me this, because…?”

Bon Bon frowned from behind her sunglasses, and glared down at Lyra. “I’m telling you this,” she said, “so you understand that what we’re doing right now is important.”

Lyra looked around.

Hot sun, muddy road, green water, lots of mosquitoes.

Total silence.

It smelled foul.

“Bon Bon.” Lyra stopped looking around. “We’re guarding a swamp.”

“We’re guarding the swamp the hydras would cross if they dared come to Canterlot,” Bon Bon said. She was wearing her full gear—top of the line black suit, expensive sunglasses, no body armor whatsoever—and standing at attention. “With the dragons out of their territory, they might very well do a straight bee-line towards the city and attack it.”

“Isn’t the city literally full of dragons as we speak.”

“Yes. But if anything, that makes it worse.” Bon Bon shook her head. “We don’t want that kind of conflict at our door.”

“Right.”

Two minutes passed.

Lyra looked at Bon Bon again. “Bon?” she asked.

“Lyra.”

“Why am I here?”

“Because this is a mission of utmost importance, Lyra. Canterlot is already full of monsters at the moment. If by any chance the hydras decide to join—”

“No, that’s why you are here,” Lyra said. “I’m asking why I am here.”

This made Bon Bon stop. She didn’t exactly lose her cool, but she did relax a little, and took off her glasses. “Because,” she said, matter-of-factly, “this is really boring. There is no way the hydras are attacking, and if I’m going to waste my entire day patrolling a completely empty place, I’d rather keep you by my side.” Then she arched an eyebrow. “There. I just like you a lot. Happy?”

Lyra heard this, and smiled. “Aaaw,” she said. “You’re so full of it, aren’t you.”

“No clue what you’re talking about.”

“You’re seriously trying to tell me that’s why you brought me to the dumbest swamp in Equestria? Because you’re in love with me or something? Please. You’re cute when you’re dumb, but this is pushing it.”

“Aren’t we dating, though?”

“You’re cute when you’re dumb, but this is pushing it,” Lyra repeated, although she did elbow Bon Bon in a rather suggestive manner. “Seriously, I get that you’re trying to flatter me, but I’ve known you for years, Bon. You’re a workaholic. You’re not going to drag me to your workplace without a real reason.”

Bon Bon had to smile at this, because Lyra was—obviously—right, but also because she kind of wanted to talk about this from the get-go. “Right. Well.” She sighed. “It’s about Vinyl.”

Lyra Heartstrings nodded. “Oh, now we’re talking. Come on, lay it on me. What did good ol’ Vinyl do this time?”

“Nothing.”

Lyra blinked. “Nothing?”

“Yeah. Nothing. It was me who—uh.” Bon Bon frowned and looked ahead, suddenly alert, business face on. Almost absent-mindedly, she put her sunglasses back on, and suddenly she was a secret agent from head to toe. “Did you hear that?” she asked.

Lyra’s ears perked up. She had seen her girlfriend go full government worker mode enough times to recognize that tone anywhere. “No,” she said, hiding behind Bon. “I—I heard nothing.”

“Sounded like a roar.”

“Right.” Lyra shrunk her shoulders, clinged to Bon’s leg a little. “Are we in danger?”

Bon nodded. “Probably.”

“I AM GETTING OUT OF HERE! SOMEONE OPEN THAT WINDOW SO I CAN JUMP OUT!”

“Vinyl, no.”

“VINYL YES.”

Vinyl tried to run. Octavia held her in place, close enough to stay alive. Between them, there was a bomb.

The idea, as they’d been told, was simple—it had this straightforward logic that serial killers absolutely adore. The bomb was a thin metallic rectangle of golden hue; it had felt cold to the touch at first, but after some minutes of severe body contact, it’d warmed up quite quickly.

Octavia and Vinyl were, to put it simply, laying on each other’s arms. Vinyl’s head was resting on the crook of Octavia’s neck. Octavia’s front legs were wrapped around Vinyl’s back. Their back legs were kind of a mess; now and then Octavia would wrap them around Vinyl too to get a better grip, and other times she would let her go and kick around freely.

And she was doing this, of course, because the moment they stopped hugging the bomb would go off, and blow up the entire building.

“Which is why I think you should stop!” Octavia was toeing the line between hugging and wrestling, laying on top of Vinyl and keeping her in place, but her voice still sounded elegant, chipper, perfectly rational. “I would very much like to keep the Castle intact, yes? It’s got sentimental value. Plus, that would probably kill us all, too!” Octavia looked at Mister Labcoat. “Would it kill us all, too, by any chance?”

“The bomb?”

“Yes!”

“Yes.”

“I see! Good.” Octavia looked at Vinyl again, and hugged her harder. “See, Vinyl? We’re all on the same boat! You should probably stop trying to kill us all.”

Vinyl was rolling around, trying to crawl towards the window, utterly failing because Octavia was there. “I REFUSE!”

“To kill us all?”

“TO STOP!”

“Ah.” Octavia frowned. “You refuse to stop killing us all.”

“YES! YES, THAT EXACTLY!”

“Well! That is just not nice in the slightest.”

“Hmm.” Labcoat was looking at the two mares—wiggling and wobbling and wrestling—with a slightly disappointed look in his face. He made absolutely no effort to move them, to go away, or to stop Vinyl from blowing up the entirety of the Castle. He instead looked at Luna after writing something in his notebook. “I do not think this is working.”

Luna seemed unaffected. “Not enough time has passed,” she said, and then she smiled at Labcoat, confidence all over her face. “I am sure this will work out in the end! Friendship works in mysterious ways, you see?”

“They are saying they want to murder us all. That is the literal opposite of what we want.”

“Mysterious ways, I said.”

“FRIENDSHIP MY BOOT. KILLING YOU ALL NOW.”

“Vinyl, no. No.” Octavia frowned, and smacked Vinyl on the back of her neck lightly. “Stop threatening our lives. And, Mister Labcoat?” Octavia looked at Labcoat again, still struggling to keep Vinyl in place. “I don’t want to murder us all! The opposite, rather. Right, Vinyl?”

“AAAAAAARGH!”

“She means yes.”

“It is futile to struggle, Vinyl Scratch!” Luna said, raising her voice to be heard above Vinyl’s screeches. “I have personally closed the window so that you cannot get out! And you cannot break it, because I specifically asked for a very sturdy window in here!” Then she winked at Labcoat. “I saw this coming,” she said. “I am very good at planning.”

“I see. That is good.”

Vinyl stopped struggling, and Octavia could breathe a sigh of relief. It did not last long, however, because Vinyl immediately glared at Princess Luna—she rose her shades and everything to stare better—and muttered:

“Get me out of here or I’m blowing this whole place up.”

Princess Luna cocked her head to the side. “Have you not been trying to do that for the last ten minutes?”

“She has!” Octavia said.

“I have not.”

“Yeah! Wait, what.”

“Trust me, if I wanted to get Octavia off me, I would’ve done it already. She’s not exactly strong.” Vinyl rolled around so she would be laying on top, and held Octavia against her chest, too, shooting her a quick look. “Also, sorry for that. Was trying to bluff back there.”

“You mean, I have been struggling for the last ten minutes for nothing?”

“Kinda? You have the strength of a puppy. Kinda cute, actually.”

“Oh.” Octavia pouted. It honestly looked kind of good. “Well! I am cute. So I take that as a compliment!”

“Yeah! It was! Kind of? Atta girl anyway.” Vinyl looked at Princess Luna. Her expression was intense. She said: “Let me go, or this good girl dies.” Then she looked at Octavia and added: “Sorry again for that, by the way.” Back at Luna: “She dies a horrible death, Princess, extremely painful, and it will all be your fault.” Back at Octavia: “Really can’t stress enough how much I’m apologizing here.”

Octavia was still pouting, although now she was squinting too, and it didn’t look as good. “It’s fine! It’s fine. As long as you don’t kill me. Which I hope you don’t!”

“Desperate times, desperate measures, I’m sure you’ll forgive me in time.” Back at Luna: “I’m already a criminal, Princess. I don’t care if I’m making things worse. Consider Octavia a hostage.” To Octavia: “Like, I’ll buy you a coffee later or—”

“I get it!”

“Neat, thanks.” Glaring at Luna: “Princess. If Octavia dies, your Castle and you two go out with it.”

Luna nodded. She looked serious now. “That is not a very good threat,” she said, softly. She unfolded her wings slightly, and in that moment she looked bigger than ever. Stronger than ever. “I do believe that you will die in the explosion, Vinyl Scratch, but you would be foolish to think,” and she did not quite snarl, but she did show her teeth more than necessary when talking, and a fang showed, “that a mere bomb could hurt me.”

“It could, actually.”

Pause.

Luna blinked, all the might vanishing from her face, and she looked at Labcoat. “It could?”

“Oh, yes. I filled it with dragonfire myself. It would absolutely kill us all.” And Labcoat stuck his chest out, smug grin in his face. “It would even kill me. Very destructive. Really good bomb.”

“Oh. I see.” Luna frowned. “I do believe I am immortal, though?”

“Severely maim you, then.”

“Aaaah.”

“I am very good at murder.”

“It shows! It really shows. That is not a good thing at all actually.” Luna smiled at him, and then went back to Vinyl. “Okay. I was wrong. That was a very good threat.”

Vinyl nodded. “Thank you. Now, let me go.”

“I will not.” Luna took a step forward, looking as perfectly calm as ever. Vinyl tensed up—and, in her arms, Octavia tensed up too. Both their pulses quickened. Both could feel the other’s heartbeat. “I will not, Vinyl Scratch. I apologize for underestimating your threat, but I will still not listen to it.”

Quick breaths. Octavia held to Vinyl as tightly as possible. Vinyl let her go slightly, and got ready to jump away. She was still not wearing her glasses; her eyes were bare.

“Because,” Luna said once she was right next to them, lowering her head so she could whisper into Vinyl’s ears, “I can recognize a bluff when I see one. I am not a fool, Vinyl Scratch. You should do well in remembering that.”

Silence.

Vinyl relaxed, and gripped Octavia a little better. Octavia let out another sigh of relief. “I thought you were going to murder me!” she whispered, accusatory, pouting again.

Vinyl cast her a last glance, insecure smile on. “An extra large cup of coffee?”

“Vinyl, I am ridiculously aristocratic! I own more money than you’ll ever see in your life! Do not think that just buying me an extra large cup of coffee will earn you my forgiv—”

“Two cups of coffee.”

“Oh. That’s a pretty good deal!”

“That is a pretty good deal,” Luna said, nodding. She was still at whisper distance, looking at Vinyl with approving eyes. “Vinyl Scratch is a good pony, Octavia. Which is why I knew she was not going to murder us all.”

“Also you’re immortal.”

“Also, I am immortal.”

“It sounds very convenient for when others threaten you.”

“It is!” Luna said, taking a step backwards to give the two ponies some privacy. “Now! I am sure you two want to know why we are doing this!”

“We do!” Octavia said.

“We don’t,” Vinyl said. “If you tell us, we’ll get involved. If we run away now, there’s still hope.”

“Good!” Luna said. “I am ignoring you again, Vinyl Scratch.”

“Figures.”

“The reason why we are doing this is…” And then Luna frowned, and took a step to the side. “Mister Labcoat?” she said, in the tone of a schoolteacher who just remembered there’s some homework due from the day prior. “I believe you should be the one saying it?”

Labcoat blinked once he realized he was in the spotlight. Despite Vinyl’s complaints, she didn’t say anything as she saw the dragon step up, cough, and produce the notebook from his breast pocket again. She just stared, flashing her horn to cover her eyes with her shades once again, and rolling to the side so Octavia wasn’t under her at all times.

Mister Labcoat started reading from the notebook. “I am currently researching,” he said before turning the page, squinting, and bringing the notebook closer to his eyes. “Hugs. And body contact. It is good for creating affectionate bonds.”

Princess Luna gave him an encouraging look. “Good,” she said.

Labcoat seemed to like that. His squint became more confident. “Pony bonding,” he specified. “It is not the same as dragon bonding. You do not partake in the buying and selling of mortal souls.”

Luna waved a hoof in the air. “We do not, we do not. And you were saying…”

“Right. Yes.” Labcoat cleared his throat with a cough again, went back to the notebook, and faced Vinyl and Octavia. “We do not tamper with the Realms Beyond. But we do hug. That is how pony bonding works.”

Pause.

“That is all.”

Vinyl couldn’t help the sudden scream again. “WHAT.”

“Um.” Octavia blinked, and then looked at Labcoat with genuine confusion. “Excuse me, but—did you just say the buying and selling of souls?”

“THAT EXPLAINS NOTHING.”

“I was not aware dragons bought souls? I was not aware souls existed. Should I be concerned?”

“WHY ARE WE HUGGING A BOMB.”

“I feel like I should be concerned.”

“You should not be concerned, Octavia Pianissimo!” Princess Luna said, waving a hoof dismissively in the air. “The matter of souls is not what we are discussing at the moment. It is completely inconsequential.” Pause. “That said! Souls do exist, there is an afterlife, and you will be judged upon death. It is a very complicated thing.” She looked at Labcoat. “Also, ponies can partake in the buying and selling of souls!”

“Do they?”

“Yes! But it is a great secret. We need to drink the blood of an innocent first, it is a hassle.”

“Oh. I like that a lot.”

“Yes, that is pretty bad actually.”

“WHY ARE WE HUGGING A BOMB.”

“I… Well?” Octavia frowned harder. “That is even more concerning, actually! What with you drinking blood to do it in the first place I mean—is this common knowledge? Afterlife? Souls? What even is a soul? I—”

“OCTAVIA.”

Octavia looked at her hug companion. “Vinyl?”

“CAN WE PLEASE FOCUS.”

“I don’t know! It’s just, there is a whole system out there that I was not aware of! So what is a soul really? How will we be judged after death?”

“WHY ARE YOU PONDERING ON SPIRITUAL QUESTIONS WHEN WE ARE CURRENTLY HUGGING A BOMB.”

Octavia thought about this. Her ears went down, and as she couldn’t rub her chin—her hooves were busy hugging—she simply rubbed her face against Vinyl in a pensive fashion. “Hmmm. Good point, actually.” She glanced at Luna. “Princess?”

“Yes?”

“Why are we hugging a bomb?”

Princess Luna arched an eyebrow. “I believe I have explained it already, at least in part,” she said. “I am teaching Mister Labcoat how to understand friendship without using murder or wanton violence.”

“So I designed the bomb,” Labcoat added. “I wanted to see how hugs react to murder and wanton violence.”

Silence.

“He is a bit of a slow learner.”

“I am trying my best.”

Octavia blinked and looked at Luna. “Well. I see! That is—.”

“WHAT DOES ANY OF THAT EVEN MEAN.”

“—not a great explanation! That is not a great explanation at all. I agree with Vinyl!” Octavia looked at Vinyl, eyes shining. “See? We’re agreeing now! Isn’t that nice? It’s like a silver lining.”

“DIDN’T I LITERALLY JUST ASK YOU TO FOCUS.”

“You did! You sure did, yes.”

“Hugs seem to be an effective tool to show affection,” Labcoat said. “I wish to research their exact effects. If we take two ponies who will never get along and they hug. What will happen?” He nodded to himself, and closed the notebook. “Also, there is a bomb.”

“It was my idea!” Luna said, grinning. “Well. Not really. It was my sister’s idea first—but I thought about bringing Mister Labcoat! Because I believed this would be a great opportunity to study hugs under extreme circumstances.”

“I am also very good at murder.”

“He is also very good at murder, yes. Which is bad, but also means his bomb would suffice. He is a very resourceful dragon.” Then Luna started pacing around the room, looking around. At the pictures in the walls, at the fireplace, at the cozy carpet that Vinyl and Octavia were laying on. “My sister herself decided it had to be you two, however. I did not choose that.”

At this point, Octavia and Vinyl had been laying on their side for what felt like at least twenty minutes, and Octavia’s neck hurt from all the turning around to look at whoever was talking. So she tugged from Vinyl and rolled over until she was on top. Vinyl moaned a complaint, but Octavia gracefully chose not to hear it. “Princess Celestia said we had to be the ones to teach friendship to Mister Labcoat?”

“Pfft.” Vinyl felt something cold drop in her stomach at the mention of Princess Celestia—but she tried her best to ignore it, and sound dismissive instead of absolutely terrified, when she talked. “Good luck then. No offense, but Octavia and I aren’t really going to become buddies just for this.”

“Oh, yes! That’s unfortunately true.” Octavia nodded, and her ears perked up when she spoke, because she sounded legitimately happy while saying this: “I’m afraid nobility doesn’t really do friendship! We consider it a form of labor.”

Vinyl frowned. “You what now.”

“It can technically slay dragons, right?”

“Uh.”

“Yes,” Princess Luna said.

“Yes,” Labcoat said.

“Yes!” Octavia repeated. “So it counts as a tool! And using a tool counts as labor. We don’t really like that—it’s why we created social strata to begin with! Commoners work, and we just lavish in our own decadence.”

“Charming,” Vinyl said. “Say, how come you’re all still so evil if you’re self-aware enough to realize this?”

Octavia fluttered her eyelashes. “Oh, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Like, you used the word ‘decadence’ yourself.”

Luna was still pacing around. Now she was toying with some files on her desk. “Ah, yes. Politics are a wonderful thing. However…” One of the files seemed to get her attention, and she grabbed it with her magic before looking back at Octavia. “No friendship. But you can do pleasant acquaintanceship, right?”

Octavia beamed. “Absolutely!”

“Perfect, then. Mister Labcoat?” Luna flashed her horn and the document—a series of miscellaneous documents all haphazardly thrown together in one thick brown folder—came floating behind her when she approached the group once again. “Slight change of plans! You are to learn pleasant acquaintanceship from these two ponies.”

“I see.” Labcoat didn’t produce his notebook again, but he did pat his breast pocket, maybe to reassure himself before talking. “I do not have notes on that.”

“It is similar to friendship but far less fulfilling.” Luna then faced the two mares, brandishing the file. “And—ah-hah! Here it is! My sister’s plan, with all the details that I need. You are not merely a tool for friendship—”

“Casual acquaintanceship,” Octavia said.

“—or casual acquaintanceship. I must send you two on a quest!”

Vinyl’s eyes went wide. Her pupils turned the size of peas. “No. No, no, no.”

“Yes!” Luna said, opening the binder and paging through it. “Yes, yes, yes. See? It is all in here! It is a matter of—”

“No!”

“—Destiny,” Luna finished. “You two are set to—save the world? Or die trying, but that will be a horrible death. Huh.” Luna looked at Labcoat. “Mister Labcoat, did you know anything about this?”

“I was not informed of Princess Celestia’s plans for the evening.”

“Well, they apparently involve saving the world. That seems to be the reason why my sister wanted them hugging a bomb too. I like that! It is elegant. Two birds in one stone.” Luna closed the binder, and then looked at Vinyl. “Is that enough to answer your questions?”

Octavia was the one who answered, however. “We’re saving the world?” she asked, blinking. “How quaint. It sounds interesting!”

“You might also die a horrible death,” Luna added, waving the file in the air. “But that does sound interesting!”

“No,” Vinyl whispered. “No, we’re not saving anything. We’re absolutely not saving anything. We’re out of here.”

And something about that last line made Octavia look at Vinyl again, really look at her, because she was the only one who heard it. It’d been something in the tone in which Vinyl had spoken—but also something in the words she had said. Because, true, Vinyl had been talking about getting out of there for a while now?

But that had been the first time she had used the plural ‘we’ when talking about it.

“I do not know if you can choose not to save the world?” Luna, completely oblivious to the fascinating shifts in Octavia’s mind, was still showing her brown file around, right before opening it again, and grabbing a very small yellow note from it. “You two live in it, do you not? It would seem counterproductive!”

“Somepony else can do it,” Vinyl said, whispering again—but slightly louder this time.

So Princess Luna heard it. And she did something funny with her face: she looked understanding, but also kind of uncomfortable. “Ah, well. Yes. I understand your plight, Vinyl Scratch. But I swore I would protect my sister at all costs when I came back. I simply do not care to risk her wellbeing, unfair as the situation must be.”

Vinyl plainly looked horrible by this point, what with the whispering, and her shoulders being so tense, and her being honestly kind of pale—a feat, seeing how she had white fur. So Octavia rubbed her back reassuringly and poked her cheek with her forehead. Just a little bit of affection to show support in one way or the other.

Vinyl seemed startled by this, and then looked at Octavia with confused eyes. Counting it as a victory, Octavia looked at Princess Luna. “Princess Celestia?” she asked. “Princess Celestia may suffer if we don’t save the world?”

Pause.

“Uh. Even I think that’s kind of obvious. And I’m me.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Octavia.” Vinyl back at it with the whisper. She wasn’t looking at Octavia when talking—she simply looked to the ceiling, her eyes hidden behind her glasses. “On the count of three, we break that window and get out.”

“What?”

“I’m serious. Somepony else can be the hero; I couldn’t care less. And neither could you.” Vinyl frowned, glanced at Labcoat. “And honestly, I think neither could him?”

“I am here to study friendship.”

“The fact that all the living things in Equestria may die isn’t really changing your outlook in life, huh?”

“I do not know. Does it count as murder?”

Octavia’s mouth became a thin hard line. “I think I know what you mean,” she said. “But—I don’t follow. Are we advocating for the end of the world now?” She had to think about this a little bit. “I don’t know if I’m aristocratic enough to reach that level of nihilism yet, to be absolutely honest.”

“Right. To make things clear.” Vinyl finally looked at Octavia. “I want the world to be saved, I just don’t want to be the one doing it. That clear enough?”

“Absolutely not! But please keep talking.”

“Sure. On three.” Vinyl nodded towards the wall. “Window. One.”

“You cannot escape like that,” Luna mused, still reading the yellow note she’d gotten from the file.

“Two.”

“Princess. She is counting very seriously.”

“She is! But I do not believe you can run from this kind of thing so easily. I still have some things to tell them, apparently.” Luna finally put the yellow note down and looked at the two mares with a smile on her face. “Also, I already told you! They cannot jump out of that window. It is very sturdy! Very, very sturdy. I got it installed myself!”

“Thr—”

Vinyl never got to finish her countdown. They never got to jump out of the window.

The outer wall of Luna’s study exploded in sudden burst of dust, glass, and rubble.

If you’re close enough to the source, you don’t really hear an explosion as much as you feel it. That’s what happened here; they all felt the explosion in the rattling of their teeth, in the way their stomach turned upside down, and so all of them flinched and moved away from the flying rubble on instinct.

All of them, except Luna.

Luna just stood there, impervious, and when one particularly nasty piece of wall went by so close to her face that her mane got ruffled, she didn’t even blink. She simply stared at the wall and waited for the dust to settle to see what had caused it.

Then it did. And Luna saw:

At the other side, peeking through and perched on the outer wall of the Castle, there was a hydra. A giant, drake-like monster with big stompy legs, slimy scales, and terrible breath. It had four heads, but the hole was only big enough for one of them, which was staring at the inside of the room with a viciously yellow eye and too many teeth to count.

The hydra then roared, and it sounded like this:

But a million times louder.

Vinyl and Octavia flinched again—but not Luna. She still stood there, unmoving, looking at the monster. Then she looked down at the broken glass by her hooves, and pawed at it a little.

“It was a very sturdy window,” she mused. “I quite liked it.” Then she put on a smile, and looked at the hydra. “You should not have done that! It is going to be very bothersome to fix it all. Mister Labcoat?”

Labcoat was snarling, now, showing his teeth at the hydra—but still standing on his hind legs, still looking somewhat civilized with that labcoat of his. When he spoke, his voice sounded normal. “Yes?”

“Would you say we are under attack?”

“Well—”

The room shook again.

Luna nodded. “Yes, that sounds like we are under attack indeed! Mister Labcoat?”

Labcoat snarled a bit harder. “Yes?”

“Do you mind taking care of it?”

“I do not mind.”

Labcoat took care of it.

Octavia and Vinyl stiffened—easy to tell, when they were hugging like that—and while in the background Labcoat breathed a fire that was completely black and hotter than the sun, Luna approached the two huggers with a tiny smile on her lips.

“Ah-hah!” she said once she was close enough, crouching a little so they could hear her. She was still carrying that file, that yellow note. “It is a secret, you see? Why it was you two in particular. You are not supposed to know! It is all part of the quest.”

The blast of black fire was so strong, the shockwave almost sent Vinyl and Octavia flying. The only reason they stood there was because Luna held them with her magic. Luna herself didn’t seem to notice the show behind her.

“I took care of it.”

“That is good!” There was smoke everywhere, and half the roof was in flames. Luna turned around and gave Labcoat a wink. “Now take care of it again a couple times, I am doing something.”

“Okay. That sounds reasonable.”

Labcoat breathed more black fire.

“I like it when he listens to me. I am such a good teacher.” Then Luna looked at Vinyl and Octavia again, who by this point were just staring at everything, eyes wide, utterly lost. “Do not mind the hydra! I am sure it is not relevant to our current discussion. We were expecting them anyway. What matters now,” and here Luna poked Octavia’s side, causing her to go eep! a little, “is the bomb. I apologize for the trouble, but I did this for my sister. I hope you understand.”

“Well! Um.” Octavia looked at Vinyl—frozen—and then at Luna (she was smiling) and then she swallowed. “That is actually really confusing? I have no idea why we are suddenly saving the world for no reason.”

“We are not,” Vinyl said.

“Or why we are not. I also don’t understand that! I don’t understand many things. It is getting very annoying.” Octavia frowned at Vinyl. “Very annoying. It would help if somepony please explained why she has such a strong opinion in the matter!”

Vinyl nodded. “Three coffees if you shut up.”

“I’m shutting up.”

“Good!” Luna nodded. “It is good that you shut up. I have much to tell you.” Then she rubbed her chin with a hoof, pensive, and looked at Octavia. “I am going to poke you again now.”

“Wait wha—eep!”

“Ah-hah! You are soft! Very pleasant to poke.”

“Good! I am taking that as a compliment. Also, please never do that again?”

“I cannot make any promises.”

“Princess Luna. Your Highness.” Vinyl finally spoke, through gritted teeth. “Why did you strap us to a bomb, and why are you asking us to save the world.”

“Hmm.” Luna smiled that little smile of hers, and waved the yellow paper in the air some more. “Some of the details I cannot tell. Sister was clear about it, you see? Discovery is part of your journey. But, at least some of it should be obvious to you, I think?” Pause. “Also, a factor is obviously that you are to show what friendship looks like to Mister Labc—”

“Casual acquaintancesh—eep!”

Luna stopped poking Octavia. “To show what casual acquaintanceship looks like to Mister Labcoat,” she said. “I find it strange that you are this surprised, Vinyl Scratch. Did your friend not talk to you about this party? About the threat of the hydras, which we were already expecting?”

“I—uh.” Vinyl blinked, squinted. Her face relaxed, but just a bit. “She… might have.”

“Then I do not see why you are confused. Surely it all makes perfect sense to you?” Pause. Luna arched an eyebrow. “Your very presence here? It is a matter of Destiny, I believe, and it has to be yours.”

Vinyl sucked air through her teeth. “Destiny? What do you mean—”

“Eep!”

“—it has to be—okay, can you stop poking Octavia like that?”

“Thank you!” Octavia whined.

“I cannot! She is very plump!” Luna said, with a smile, getting up. She put the yellow note away in the file and then closed it. “Which is good! Really good! I am so good at picking chosen ones. I should do this more often.”

Vinyl gawked. “Chosen ones?”

Octavia frowned. “Plump?”

Mister Labcoat whispered. “Princess.”

And something in his voice made them all immediately forget what was going on; the whiplash of the sudden mood in the room was almost physical in nature. Suddenly, they could hear something in the distance, coming from outside the Castle, in the city of Canterlot.

Screaming.

The sound of something burning.

Stone splitting, and a hundred beasts roaring in unison.

“We have a problem.”

The black fire had produced smoke—the kind of smoke that gets in your lungs and stays there—but it was fading, now. The little flames that had been licking at random parts of the room were dying out one by one.

The giant hydra was still there, perched at the wall. Untouched by the fire.

What happened next, neither Vinyl nor Octavia would ever forget. What happened next was, in their eyes, the picture perfect definition of fear, in one very simple scene:

Princess Luna turned around, looked at the hydra, and her pupils shrank, and she said: “Oh. Oh, no.”

The hydra roared again and her one free head lounged inside the study, quick like a viper. Labcoat was faster—he crouched and jumped, just in time to—

—be swatted away like a fly.

“Mister Labcoat!” Luna whipped her head to the side, and her horn glimmered—a flash, and Labcoat was back on his feet, the hydra was retreating. “Careful!”

But Labcoat wasn’t having it. “You!” His voice had changed. It was deeper now, darker. Something primal shining in his eyes. He fell to all fours, black flames coming off his nostrils. “I WILL SKIN YOU FOR THIS!”

“Mister Labcoat!” The hydra attacked again, Luna flashed her horn—there was a clash and Luna grunted, took a step backwards. “Careful! It is not what it seems!”

The hydra was observing them again, not moving. Mister Labcoat looked at Luna and made a guttural sound. “Careful?” he then asked. “Since when do WE need care?! I will not let this insult pass! Not from a hydra!”

“But it is not a hydra, that thing.” Luna was panting. Sweat ran down her neck. Whatever magic she had cast—twice—was taking a toll on her. “Not on the inside. Not where it counts. It is a half-breed!”

This calmed Labcoat, somehow. His voice went back to normal. A spark of curiosity came to his eyes, making him look much more sentient, much less like an ancient demon aching for some reaping. “What? A half-breed? How come? What of?”

And Luna swallowed, and glimmered her horn once again.

Octavia and Vinyl had rolled away as soon as they had seen a chance, and were currently hiding under the table—but they could see the hydra. And what they saw was this: the hydra was smiling. There was intelligence in its eyes.

“What else of?” Luna took a step backwards. Labcoat imitated her, seemingly on instinct alone. The hydra hissed. “To be this strong, it can only be one thing. The only beast who can fight a dragon.”

And then the hydra hissed again, but it wasn’t a hiss, it was a word. A word full of poison, and the hydra’s nostrils flared with blue flames.

Then it sniffed around, as if looking for something, and its smile got even wider, more full of teeth than ever. The other three heads were out of sight, but one could tell—they were smiling too.

It was then that Octavia felt the urge to whisper. “Vinyl?” she asked, and her voice sounded delicate, fragile.

Vinyl didn’t reply with words. She just tightened the hug, reassuringly, around Octavia’s shoulder.

Octavia acknowledged this by pressing herself against Vinyl a little. But then, she continued. She said: “Is it me, or is that thing… Sniffing…?”

And Vinyl finished her sentence:

“…in this direction?”

As on cue, the hydragon started drooling, just a little. A single drop of saliva fell from its mouth to the carpet—and there it hissed and produced bubbles and steam, until there was nothing left in there but a dark circle of burned fabric.

The hydragon roared again:

Then, chaos. The hydragon moved all of a sudden—not with its neck, but with its whole body. It moved backwards, then forwards, and then it hit the Study, and the entire tower, with all the strength it could muster.

The tower collapsed.

What followed was too messy to remember, Octavia would explain later. A lot of noise, a lot of screaming. Rubble hitting them, and then suddenly, the floor gave up under them.

And they fell.

The hydragon roared above, Mister Labcoat roared back, black fire and blue flames colluding. More heat than the body can withstand, confusion, the sound of something boney snapping in half, and then—a flash of blue magic, and Luna’s voice, clear as day:

“Look for my sister,” it said. “That is your quest! Do not let go! You are the chosen ones! Discovery is part of the journey! You must remember that!”

Octavia tried to reply, but failed. She couldn’t hear her own voice through the howling of the wind against her ears as she fell. So she just hugged Vinyl, and Vinyl hugged her back.

Then the noise stopped, and everything went white.

Chapter Three – Would Recommend to my Friends

The hydra dwarfed Twilight Sparkle. Drool dropped from every one of its mouths. Dumb rage in its eyes. Murder in its breath.

Twilight Sparkle looked up at it. “Okay,” she said. “So what is it going to be this time, Mister Hydra. Killing me or eating me?”

The hydra didn’t really reply. It just sort of went “RAAAAAARGH.”

“Uh-huh. I can’t understand that, so let’s go with murder.” Twilight had bags under her eyes, and sounded utterly bored. She cleared her throat with a cough and then said, slightly louder: “I am officially telling you that there’s no need for violence, and that we can simply talk about your feelings if you want. Also, please don’t try to murder me and all that.”

“RAAAAAARGH.”

Around them, war went on.

Canterlot was a city of excess; it was dominated by an immortal almighty goddess wearing gold and only got more decadent from there. The Outer Gardens of Canterlot extended through most of the mountain; there were cliffs, rivers, entire forests held within. All of it tended with care across millenia, carefully arranged to maximize its beauty for absolutely no reason other than to flex at the rest of Equestria.

To walk through the entirety of the Canterlot Gardens took months. To appreciate it fully took years.

And they were currently bursting with hydras and dragons fighting it out.

You could see it in the distance. Dragons flying all around the mountain, like scaly birds of prey, spewing fire and destroying the countryside. Hydras snatching at anything that came close, tearing everything to pieces with their four jaws. Forests were burned, rivers ran red.

All the beauty of the mountain got destroyed that day.

And Twilight Sparkle, who had been born and raised in Canterlot and loved the mountain, was forced to live through this in real time, and she was not happy about it.

“I mean it.” She was standing between the gigantic hydra and Canterlot Castle, still sounding utterly bored. There were no dragons nearby, they were all fighting around the mountain. “I am telling you to stop this because I promised Fluttershy I would be nice: you really shouldn’t try to murder me.”

If the hydra understood Twilight, it certainly didn’t show it. It just kept staring with four dumb pairs of eyes, drool still dripping from its mouths. It growled, and the earth trembled.

Pause.

Twilight squinted. “Is… Is that a yes, or…?”

“RAAAAAARGH!”

The hydra moved.

A blur, four blurs, the sound of something sharp breaking the air—suddenly, a million teeth appeared in front of Twilight. One mouth to grab the prey, the other three to tear it to pieces; you don’t get to fight toe-to-toe with dragons without being impossibly fast.

And before it could even get close to Twilight, a giant boulder fell on top of it, crushing it completely.

“Okay, I take that as a no, then.” Twilight looked up. “Rainbow Dash! Thanks!”

Another blur—this one blue—and Rainbow Dash made it to the ground. She still had a lever in her mouth. “You’re welcome!” She spat the lever to the side. “Did you try to talk to it first?”

“Yes.”

“Because Fluttershy is going to get angry if you didn’t try to talk to it first.”

“I did try to talk to it first. It immediately tried to murder me, though.”

“Okay, cool.” Rainbow Dash turned around and gave the giant boulder—and the hydra underneath it—an appreciative look. “By the way,” she said, “I am loving this. Remember when hydras were scary?”

“They still are, we just got used to it.” Twilight looked at the boulder, focused—and her horn flashed. Next thing you know, neither the boulder nor the hydra were there anymore. There was just a crater on the ground. “There. It’s back on the roof, so go and drop it on the next hydra you see getting close to the Castle. I’m going to go check on the others, see how they’re doing?”

“Sure!” Dash grabbed the lever again, and took off—but she paused before disappearing. “Wait, do I talk to the hydras before dropping the boulder?”

“I mean…” Twilight frowned. “I don’t know. Do you want Fluttershy to be mad at you?”

Dash saluted. “Gotcha. I talk to them before dropping the boulder.”

Twilight Sparkle had been standing guard by the east wing of the Castle—the part that overlooked the Gardens, and so the most dangerous one—to look out for any wandering hydras that managed to get out of the dragons’ reach.

An extremely concerning amount of them had managed so far.

“Um.” The sound of wings flapping came from above, and Fluttershy landed in front of them, down from one of the highest towers in the Castle. “I heard you talking about me being mad at Rainbow Dash?”

“Hey, Shy.” Dash spat the lever once more. “All good by the north wing?”

“Mmm. Yes.” Fluttershy gave Dash a nod, one of those nods that she had that was both a gesture of affirmation and a way to hide her face from others. “We just saw two hydras come running, and, and I talked a lot with them.”

“So they’re out?” Dash asked.

“They were dealt with.”

“Awesome!”

“Yes,” Twilight said, and then she shot a side-eyed glance at the Gardens. She could see smoke rising. “I have to say, if it weren’t for the fact that my childhood is burning to the ground? I’d say this plan is going pretty smoothly!”

“Rainbow Dash? Uh.” Fluttershy swallowed, and then looked at Dash, still hiding behind her mane. “Why were you saying I was going to be mad at you?”

Dash shrugged. “We’re splattering the hydras with giant boulders.”

Pause.

Fluttershy immediately stopped hiding behind her mane, and she looked at Dash with a full-on frown. “What.”

“We’re totally talking to them, though, so it’s cool.” Dash looked at Twilight. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Twilight said. “We only splatter them afterwards.”

Fluttershy’s frown did not go away. “Did you ask the hydra if they wanted to talk about their feelings, Twilight?”

“It kinda tried to murder me.”

“Yes, but did you ask?”

“Okay, wait.” Dash dashed towards Shy and floated above her, front legs crossed in front of her chest. “Like. For real—is there any point to this? Whatsoever? Are you seriously telling me that the hydras listen to you, or…?”

That got Fluttershy to stop frowning. “Um.”

Which, in turn, made Twilight arch an eyebrow. “Fluttershy?”

“Well, I make sure that they tell me that don’t want to talk first,” Shy explained, looking down and pawing the ground with a hoof. “They aren’t really nice.” Then, spirit back up, she looked at Twilight. “But I’m sure not all hydras are like that! There must be one or two that are good, right?”

Twilight squinted. “Uuuuh…”

“Okay, so you’re like—what? Dropping boulders on them, too?” Dash asked, still looking at Fluttershy. “You said you dealt with two hydras, didn’t you?”

“Hmm-hmm.” Fluttershy did another of her hiding nods. “I flew away and led them to Applejack and Pinkie Pie.”

“And Ah took care of it!” a voice came from afar.

Twilight, Fluttershy, and Dash all turned around. Applejack was racing towards them from the southernmost corner of the building. She was fast enough to get there in no time, and then she tipped her hat at them. “Everythin’ clear on the South, Twi.”

“Thank you.”

“Um.” Fluttershy looked at Applejack, and then she looked at the corner from which Applejack had popped out—all the way to the south. “Did you… hear us speaking all the way from there?”

“Yeah!” Applejack said, grinning at Fluttershy. “Acoustics in these Gardens are crazy! Must be all the destruction the hydras are bringin’.”

Twilight grumbled under her breath.

“Makes it easier for the sound to travel! ‘Cause everythin’s either burned or broken to pieces, see?” And AJ tipped her hat. “Why, this is gonna take centuries to regrow! At least!”

Twilight grumbled harder.

“Oh yeah, and speakin’ of that.” Here Applejack got serious, and shot Twilight a look. “Bad news. Rarity found somethin’ weird.”

“Applejack bringing bad news!” Dash was hovering above Applejack now, glaring down with all she had. “What a shocker, huh.”

“Now, what in tarnation do you mean by—”

“Wait, you’re still fighting?” Twilight cut, frowning. “Girls, we’re at war! Can we please focus? Applejack, what do you mean, bad news?”

“Rarity found somethin’. She’s—” Applejack turned around, and then blinked. “She’s still all the way over there? RARITY! COME HERE ALREADY!”

Rarity popped out from the same corner Applejack had turned minutes ago—but she was definitely not in a rush. She just walked with her usual delicate trot, and nothing else.

“COME ON, RARES! WE’RE AT WAR! RUN A LIL’, WE AIN’T GONNA JUDGE YOU FOR SWEATIN’!”

“Pfft.”

Applejack glared up. “Did you just laugh?”

“Who, me?” And Dash floated backwards, perfectly innocent expression on her face. “Not at all!” Then she grinned at Applejack. “So how are you taking care of the hydras anyway? Bumming them out until they give up?”

“Ah actually just throw giant boulders at ‘em, matter of fact,” Applejack said, squinting hard at Dash. “‘Cause unlike others, Ah don’t need gravity to do my job.”

“Now what does that—”

“Twilight!” And just in time, Rarity made it to the group. She was wearing a golden necklace—some odd, uneven shape that looked ugly as sin. “Oh, darling, I think I know why the hydras are attacking! And it’s terrible!”

There was the sound of stone creaking in the distance, and the hill of the south got blown to pieces. Twilight arched an eyebrow. “Gosh,” she said. “That’s a shock.”

“I am serious! This might be more complicated than we thought. See this terrible necklace here?” Rarity grabbed the thing around her neck. It looked half-done, like a puzzle with missing pieces. “The hydra we stopped was carrying it around. It tried to hide it from us!”

This made Twilight frown, and approach Rarity. She looked at the necklace, but nothing rang a bell about it. “Odd. Did they say where the other half was?”

“Inside of the Castle! Which is why we asked Applejack to throw a giant boulder at them.”

“And Ah did!”

“Ah-hah.” Twilight nodded. “Elegant solution.”

“A necklace?” Fluttershy hovered above Twilight and looked at it. “Um. The hydras I talked to did not mention a necklace. They did talk a lot about pretty rocks, but I thought it was about the ones Applejack kept throwing at her friends.”

“Apparently not.”

“They said they had to look for some inside the Castle.”

This got Twilight’s attention. She looked at Fluttershy. “Another what?”

“Rock.” Fluttershy shrugged. “I thought she was still talking about Applejack. We are protecting the Castle, right? Or… maybe it meant a stone? Is there any difference?”

“I mean, yes, we’re protecting this place.” Twilight flashed her horn and took the necklace from Rarity, then grabbed it with her hooves. “But I think we just found out why they’re trying to get in—wait.” She blinked, looked around at her friends. “Wait a minute. Rarity?”

“Twilight, dear?”

“You said that the hydra you stopped was carrying this?”

“I did, yes.”

“And Applejack.” Twilight looked at AJ. “You threw a rock at it, and Rarity took the necklace.”

“Yep.”

“But Fluttershy talked to two hydras. Right?” Twilight looked at Fluttershy again. “And then you led them away after talking to them. Two hydras that were trying to get in the Castle.”

“…Uh-oh.” Fluttershy’s eyes got big. “You… you don’t mean…”

“Yes. I mean it.” Twilight took a deep breath. “Girls? Please, tell me at least one of you can tell me. Where is that other hydra, and where is Pinkie Pie?”

Nopony replied.

Then, suddenly, out in the northern part of the Castle—an explosion. A hydra screaming. The entire Castle trembled, and the sound of rubble falling. The acoustics of the Gardens were so good that they could even hear some of the ponies inside screaming with high-pitched voices.

Pause.

Twilight frowned. “Okay then, that sounds like a good place to start looking. Fluttershy, fly to that tower and look out for hydras. Rainbow, you drop a boulder if they come from here, Applejack, you throw rocks if they come from there, and Rarity—” She threw the necklace at her friend “—you’re in charge. Keep this safe.”

Then she flashed her horn, and she was gone.

Contrary to popular belief, there is nothing uncomfortable about losing consciousness. When you get knocked out, you barely feel it. A flash, a hard knock on the head—and then nothing but nothingness.

Regaining consciousness, though. That’s why concussions get such a bad rap.

“Vinyl! Vinyl, are you awake?” Nudge, tap, nudge. The voice came like cotton floating down the river. “Oh, dear. Please tell me you are not dead, or else this is going to get really uncomfortable. Vinyl?”

Vinyl tried to speak. She tried with all she had. “Hrrrg.” Close enough.

“Ah! Vinyl!” More tapping, more nudging. “I saw you move!”

“Hrrrg.”

“Vinyl, wake up! Wake up! Rise and shine?” Nudge nudge. “You don’t have to shine if you don’t want to. Please?”

Vinyl opened her eyes. She immediately regretted it.

The room was mostly dark, but whatever light lingered was enough to hurt Vinyl’s eyes. Everything was musky and smelled like dust. Vinyl was laying on cold hard rock, surrounded by rubble, and feeling thunder inside her head. Something soft and warm by her side.

The ceiling was of stone, and way too low to be comfortable. There was a single window with no glass and iron bars blocking it, but the sunshine came dimmed through it. A muffled sound in the distance — screams, and fire, and the sounds of war.

“Vinyl?”

And the voice.

The voice came from Vinyl’s right, the place of soft and warm. So she turned, expecting something, and something she saw: Octavia. Face like an angel, bowtie ruffled, mane full of dust. Worry in her eyes, but a smile in her lips. The room smelled of dust, but she smelled of old wood, and rosewater, and strawberry tea. She was holding Vinyl.

She asked: “Vinyl? Are you okay?”

And she looked beautiful, in that moment between sleep and wake, in that dimly lit place of cold stone and low ceilings.

So Vinyl grimaced and looked to the side, then said: “Blegh.”

“Ah-hah! I knew it!” Octavia’s smile was bright enough to light up the room, and give Vinyl an even worse headache. “You were breathing too hard to be dead. How are you feeling? Does it hurt? Do you know who I am?”

“…What happened.”

“A monster attacked us!” Octavia’s voice was not exactly high-pitched, but it still stung Vinyl like a needle through her brain. “It climb all the way to the princess’ study. And then it fended off Mister Labcoat, and Princess Luna both! It was terrible.”

Pause.

“And also I believe Princess Luna called me fat? And I don’t know what to think about that. She said I’m plump!”

Vinyl closed her eyes and sighed, trying, and failing, to control her migraine. “Okay,” she said. “Okay. That’s a lot to take in.”

“Right? I have a reasonably good figure. I exercise a lot!” Octavia was squinting, twisting her head around to examine her own side. “Would you say I’m plump? I would not say I’m plump.”

“Octavia.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

Octavia’s voice sounded sympathetic enough to be frustrating. “Oh,” she said. “My apologies. Concussion not treating you well?”

“Concussion not treating me well.”

“Happens to the best of us! Nothing to be ashamed of.” Pause. Octavia looked to both sides, then cleared her throat with a cough. “I have to say, ah, I would love to give you some space? But, well.” And she grimaced. “I’m afraid I cannot.”

Vinyl tried to blink, but she had trouble coordinating both eyelids. Everything still hurt. The thunder in her head echoed.

“Right,” she said. Then she held her breath and did the old party trick: she focused on her horn, as if to cast a spell, then shook her head as hard as she could without letting it go. It hurt like hell for a while, then it got so much better. “Right,” she repeated, “of course. We don’t want to explode.”

“Oh?” Octavia had moved her head away—only a bit, they were still hugging—to give Vinyl room to shake around, but now that that was over she was close and personal once again. “So you remember that? I am not going to lie, I was fully expecting you to suffer some kind of minor memory loss. You know.” She nodded towards Vinyl’s head. “Because of your head trauma!”

“Yeah. Nah.” Vinyl grunted, and then rested her head on the cold hard ground. It did not help. “Not enough brain damage. So, that’s the good news. Sorry if I’m grumpy, my head just hurts a lot.”

“Don’t worry! I won’t hold it against you.” Then Octavia frowned. “Also, I’m glad you bring up brain damage? Because that was not a soft fall you took.”

“So what happened, anyway?”

“Well, you hit the floor head-first and it made the most peculiar noise.”

“No, no, not that. I mean more…” Vinyl looked around, at the dark room. There wasn’t enough light to really tell, but the rubble, the dust, and the oddness of the ceiling made it clear the place wasn’t in pristine condition. “Where are we? What happened up there? Did the tower collapse?” A pause, and then as an afterthought: “Also, are the princess and the dragon okay? There was a, a hydragon…”

Octavia nodded, still looking at Vinyl with those worrying eyes, that angel face. “Hmmm.” She tapped Vinyl’s head once again, as if trying to find a wound—but eventually she gave up. “Indeed! The—how did you call it? Hydragon?”

“Called itself that.”

“Right, I suppose.” Octavia looked down, pouted a bit, frowned. “What is a hydragon, even?

Pause.

“Take a guess, Octavia.”

“I will! I will take a guess.” Octavia made a thinking face—like a pout, but more intellectual—and then hummed a little. “Hum hum hum. Some kind of terrible monster?”

Vinyl took a moment to think about this. Then she said: “You know what? Yeah. Yeah that’s actually a great description.”

“Thank you! I am very intelligent.” Octavia stopped with the thinking face and smiled at Vinyl. “Well then. That terrible monster tried to get inside Princess Luna’s study, but it was simply too big. So, yes, to answer your other question—the tower collapsed! With us still in it.”

“Right.”

“Mister Labcoat and Princess Luna flew away to safety. They have wings, you see? They can just do that! But we don’t. So we plummeted to our death!”

It took a moment for Vinyl to catch this. “We what?” She asked. “We plummeted?”

“Hmm-hmm.”

“To our death.”

“Yes indeed!”

If Vinyl had been able to massage her temples, she would have. Her front legs were busy wrapping Octavia, however, so she just kept laying on the ground and made a face. “Okay,” she said. “So, like. We’re dead now, or…?”

Octavia chuckled, and bopped Vinyl’s muzzle with her forehead. “Of course not! Princess Luna teleported us to safety before we could die. Then you hit your head and got knocked out! And now we’re here.”

Vinyl got stiff the moment Octavia touched her muzzle. When she spoke, she pronounced every word very, very slowly. “She,” she said, “teleported us to safety.”

“Yes!”

“And then I hit the floor and got immediately knocked out.”

“Princess Luna is very bad at dealing with mortals! It’s because of all the talent she has for murder, I think.”

“She does look like somepony who’s tasted blood.”

“She does! She really does. I love her, but she is terrifying.”

“Told you.” Vinyl made a face. “We’re super getting murdered today, one way or the other.”

Then Octavia examined Vinyl, really examined her. Looked her in the eye and so on. “Are you okay, though? Are you sure? I would hate it if you got really hurt. I was very worried!”

Vinyl arched an eyebrow. “Don’t wanna be hugging a corpse?”

“Indeed! Especially one with that mane.” Octavia looked at Vinyl’s hairdo and made a face. “It looks terrible. But I also do not want you to die! We are casual acquaintances, right?”

“We super are. But don’t tell that dragon.” Vinyl squinted. “I’d hate to give him the satisfaction.”

“Oh, absolutely! Just call me an inbred again as soon as he’s around, and he’ll absolutely believe we don’t like each other.”

“Yeah, tha—ah?” Vinyl blinked, looked at Octavia. “Wait. You were aware that was an insult? Have—have you been playing dumb all this time?”

And Octavia smiled, and fluttered her eyelashes. “Oh, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

It took a moment for Vinyl to reply. She just stared at Octavia for a little while first, digesting everything, thoughts slowed down because the headache was terrible.

Ultimately, though, she returned the smile. “You know, you’re kinda fun to be around.”

“Thank you! I absolutely am. It is one of my best qualities.”

“You could really stop going after my mane so hard, though.”

“Oh, no, no. I have to draw the line somewhere.”

If they both felt that they were dancing about the issue, it’s because they were. If Vinyl was trying to make Octavia smile to get some weight off her chest, she could hardly be blamed. If Octavia was a little too relieved to be able to talk to Vinyl again, well. How could she not?

It’s difficult, sometimes, for those who were not born in Equestria to understand what the Princesses, the alicorns, mean. It’s such an internalized thing that the moment Princess Luna came back, she was immediately accepted. The moment Princess Twilight ascended, she joined the pantheon, and nopony ever doubted why.

This was not because they were perfect—they were not. Too many mistakes to account for already to believe that particular lie. But they were immortal, and they were powerful, and they were reliable. Monsters were dangerous, and they could hurt you, but they could not hurt the alicorns.

But Princess Luna had been visibly distressed in front of the hydragon. Labcoat—a genuine dragon himself—hadn’t been able to immediately kill the monster.

It was not an easy thing to take in.

Which is why they were simply not thinking about it.

Vinyl rolled her eyes, but there was a bit of a smile tugging to her lips. She suppressed it rather nicely. Then she looked around. “So where are we right now, exactly?”

Octavia frowned. “Say. Are we avoiding the fact that we are the Chosen Ones and seemingly fated to save the world?”

“We are super avoiding that fact, yes.”

And the frown went away and a beaming smile took its place. “Okay! That sounds like a reasonable thing to do.” Then Octavia started looking around, ears perked up. “And these are the lower dungeons! Light up your horn, please? I can’t see properly.”

“You know, my head kinda hurts.”

“Oh?” Octavia looked up at Vinyl, down from her chest. The little light that came to the cell reflected in her eyes almost perfectly, and they looked—for a second—wide, and deep, and full of stars. “So you can’t?”

Vinyl’s left eye twitched.

Here’s the deal, in plain terms: Hugs are not to be taken lightly.

You hug someone, and you feel their warmth, their heartbeat, and they feel yours. Hugs are special things. Hugs are powerful things.

Vinyl wasn’t hugging Octavia—she was holding her. But Octavia wasn’t holding Vinyl.

She was hugging her.

Which is why Vinyl’s left eye twitched, and why she looked away, grumbled, and then said: “Whatever.” And in spite of the throbbing headache it gave her, she lit her horn.

And Octavia smiled after one look around. “Ah-hah!” she said. “The lower dungeons, indeed! I am so good at this. It is probably due to all that inbreeding.”

“You went all the way around from insult to flattery again with that one, huh.”

“And the dungeons seem intact, I might add!” The only sign that Octavia had heard Vinyl was the light slap the latter got on the back of her neck. “I assume the Castle is maintaining its structural integrity, then, towers aside.” Octavia looked smug while saying this. “That’s good news! Nothing is down except for the ceiling, which you pretty much blew away with your head!”

Vinyl looked up. Now that there was light, she could see that the ceiling wasn’t as low as she’d thought—it’s just that big chunks of it had collapsed. There was a big hole right above them, too. “Oh. Wait, did we do that?”

“Yes!” Octavia nodded with enthusiasm. “And we caused very little damage, all things considered! Far from my intentions to toot my own horn, but the craftsmanship of this Castle is amazing! Don’t you think?”

It took Vinyl a moment to understand this. “Toot your what?”

“Oh. Is that offensive? I’m very sorry! I won’t use it again.” Octavia looked up, at Vinyl’s horn, then frowned. “It’s an old Canterlot saying, but now that I think about it, it does sound insulting towards unicorns.”

“No, I’m not—well actually it is a bit offensive, not gonna lie?”

“Ah-hah! See? That’s probably why it became a saying in the first place. Canterlot is terrible.”

“Right, fully agree—but I’m not talking about that.” Vinyl squeezed Octavia by the shoulders and looked around. “Why are you being smug about this?”

Octavia’s turn to look confused. “Excuse me?”

“About the Castle not being blown up.” An explosion outside, and the whole building shook slightly. Some dust fell from the ceiling. Vinyl cringed. “Yet.”

“I’m not smug!” Octavia sounded genuinely distraught. “I am just proud of my heritage!” Then her ears perked up and she raised her chin, and in that moment she looked more noble than ever, and almost a thousand years old. “My family, you see, is the one that built this Castle in the first place. Thousands of years ago! And it’s still up!”

“What. What?” Vinyl’s eyes got wide. “Are you kidding? Your family built this?”

Octavia raised her chin even more. More smug than ever. “Indeed!”

“…Isn’t your name Pianissimo, though?” Vinyl tilted to the side a little and caught a peek of Octavia’s flank. “Unless bricks play in the treble clef, I am pretty certain you’re supposed to be a musician.”

“And I am! But I am the second daughter, so I can afford diversifying my family’s field of expertise.”

“Right, but you are called Pianissimo.” Vinyl looked at Octavia again for a second, saw her eyes, then immediately looked somewhere else. “Like, that’s your actual name.”

“I am a Pianissimo, yes! We’re a pretty famous dynasty, actually.”

“The Pianissimo dynasty, then. And you’re architects.”

“We build things very quietly.”

Pause.

“You know what? I’m not brain damaged enough to have this conversation either! So let’s just—” Vinyl squinted, and while doing that, she noticed, for the first time, that her eyes were bare. “Ah. Shoot. My shades.”

Octavia blinked. “Beg your pardon?”

“Beg, then. My shades?”

“Your sunglasses?” Octavia looked around. “I think they’re over there,” she said, nodding towards one of the corners of the room. Indeed, there was something purple there, reflecting the light of Vinyl’s magic. “I saw them when—!”

“Shades, shades.” Vinyl licked her lips, braced herself for the pain, and floated her glasses to her face with a flick of her horn. It barely hurt at all, which was the first pleasant surprise she’d had in at least twenty-four hours. “They’re shades.”

Octavia cocked her head to the side. “What?”

“Not sunglasses. The Secret Equestrian Service uses sunglasses. These,” Vinyl lifted the shades for a moment, to make sure it was clear what she was talking about, “are shades.”

“Oh,” Octavia said. Then: “I didn’t know there was a difference!”

“There is.”

“I didn’t know we have a Secret Service either. Do we?”

“We do.” Vinyl put the shades on. It felt good, even if it meant she could see absolutely nothing. “Huge deal.”

“Never heard of them! Are they well-known?”

“They’re called the Secret Service, Octavia.”

“Ah. I see, I see.” Octavia nodded. “Are you supposed to be telling me this?”

“Not at all, actually! It’s quite literally a State secret. This is high treason I’m committing right now. I have no idea why I ever brought this up.”

A small pause.

“Is it me, or did you actually suffer a lot of brain damag—”

“I’ve actually suffered a lot of brain damage, let’s get out of here.”

“You know, far from my intentions to nag you on this,” Octavia was saying. “But you didn’t say anything, when I complained about Princess Luna calling me fat?”

Vinyl nodded. “Uh-huh. So do we turn left or right now?”

“Left! We have to go left. And one would think that, you know, reassuring me that I am indeed in quite good shape is the socially expected response?”

“Sure is.”

Pause.

Vinyl clicked her tongue. “Okay!” she said. “Going left, then!”

Vinyl got a light slap on the back of her neck.

An hour had passed since the bomb had entered Vinyl and Octavia’s lives, and now they were at the bottom of Canterlot Castle, trying to find a way up.

The lower dungeons were mostly made of harsh cold stone, although once you got away from the cells the walls were painted white and the floor was reasonably smooth. It was dark, sure, there were no torches around, but Vinyl could light up her horn without much trouble, so rolling around was more or less comfortable.

The dungeons were, to be honest, mostly there out of a sense of obligation. Nobody ever used the place. When your entire culture is based on the idea of literally weaponizing friendship, taking prisoners is not something you do very often. Ponies classified threats in two broad categories: there are future friends, and then there are victims.

“Well, that is a good way to put it, yes,” Octavia said when Vinyl mentioned something of the sorts. “Say. Do you think it is possible to befriend a hydra?”

Vinyl frowned. “Not really? We mostly use friendship to slay them. Also, I don’t think hydras even understand it.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.” Vinyl thought about it for a moment, and then repeated something she’d heard Bon Bon said once: “I think that, when it comes to brains, hydras kind of choose quantity over quality?”

“Aaah. Of course.” And Octavia nodded. “Happens to the best of us, really!”

So, by the end of the day, they both expected the dungeons to still be empty, the hydras to still be the enemy, and also a lot of dead lizards all around Canterlot.

In the meantime though, no prisoners meant no reason to lock any doors. Only then, of course, there was the issue of actually getting out. Turns out, hugging is a bit like handling scissors: doesn’t mesh well with running.

“Ouch! Stop! Stop!” Octavia winced, and she forced Vinyl to go still, then rubbed her forehead against Vinyl’s chest while moaning in pain. That made Vinyl stiff up again, but Octavia barely noticed. “There was something on the ground!”

“I—uh—what?” Vinyl shook her head a little, and then looked back—there was indeed some rubble on the ground. “Ah, yeah. Did you roll over it?”

“It poked me right above the tail! It stings!” Octavia squirmed, trying to both press herself against Vinyl to keep the bomb stable and look to her own back at the same time. It didn’t work, because anatomy doesn’t work that way, but she still tried. “Ow! I think there was something sharp over there, and we passed right over it! Do you mind rubbing my lower back to see if there’s anything stuck to it?”

Vinyl didn’t reply for a couple seconds. She just stood there, completely still, while Octavia kept moaning softly.

Then she cleared her throat with a cough and said: “Uh. Sorry. You’re asking me to do what?”

So here’s how it goes: if you’re hugging somepony with both your front legs, and kinda with your back legs too—a little, now and then, it was a very case-by-case thing—the only way you can reasonably move around is either flying or just rolling around doing your best impression of a tumbleweed or a very strange hula hoop.

The latter is extremely uncomfortable unless you’re doing it on a carpet. The ground in the lower dungeons was cold harsh stone, rocky as can be.

Neither of them had wings.

So the two musicians did not mind the rock and rolled, and neither appreciated the irony in the slightest.

Only, of course, the Castle shook every time something big happened outside, and Vinyl was now realizing that maybe they should’ve been a little bit more careful in looking where they were going, instead of just trying to roll away as fast as possible.

“I am asking you to gently caress the area around my tail to see if there’s anything stuck to it!” Octavia said.

“To c—?” Vinyl choked. “To. To caress the are around your t—you know what? I’m rather sure that is just not going to happen.”

“What? Vinyl, it hurts! What if there was s sharp rock and it stabbed me? I can’t see!” Octavia was pressing herself hard against Vinyl now, and wiggling around, and moaning of pain, and—oh boy.

Oh boy.

She sure was, okay. She sure was something all right.

“Oh, Celestia, what if I’m bleeding?” There was alarm in her voice, mind you, but her accent was pleasant enough for that to almost make things worse. “You have to hurry! Just rub it a bit to see if there’s anything there?”

“Right, look, I can just—” Vinyl squirmed a bit too, tried to look over Octavia’s shoulder down to her lower back, utterly failed because that is, once again, not how anatomy works. “See? Perfectly fine!” she said anyway. “No need to gently caress anything!”

“Vinyl, I swear to the stars! I’m worried! Come on, you are already hugging me! I’ll buy you three coffees myself!”

“That’s still—wait, you’re going straight for three?”

“Yes!”

“Boy, your ass must hurt a lot.”

“It does! Which is why I’m asking you to check it!” Octavia kept hugging Vinyl with one front leg, but took the other out and pushed Vinyl’s hoofs downwards. Towards her backside. “Just lower your hooves a little bit, gently lift my tail and go to town with—”

“Okay you don’t nee—OKAY OKAY WOW WOW STOP HEY.” Vinyl moved her hooves up, away from Octavia’s tail. “HEY THERE.”

“What?! Vinyl, this is an emergency!”

“YEAH, SURE IS!”

“Vinyl, I don’t understand what—” And then Octavia blinked, and her ears perked up, and her mouth became a perfect ‘o’. “Oh, dear,” she said then, voice completely different. “Oh my. I am so sorry—is this making you uncomfortable?”

“WHAT?”

“Because if this is making you uncomfortable at all, you don’t have to—”

“HAHAH, WHAT? Me? Uncomfortable? Please!” Vinyl’s voice was so tense you could have wrapped it around a racket and played tennis with it. “Please! Not at all! See? Look at me, just—” she lowered her hooves “—just, rubbing your ass! Like there’s no tomorrow! Just, circular notions, playing with your tail a little, see? Perfectly fine! Nothing wrong with that! Hah! Hah, hah!”

Octavia was, indeed, being rubbed rather well. Bit of an odd sensation, she would explain much later, when narrating this scene. Interesting. Rather peculiar. But Vinyl was looking like she was trying her best, so she tried to encourage her. “So you are!” she said, smiling. “Uh, now, can you check if I’m bleeding or if there’s anything right above my tail? Because that’s where it hu—”

“Just gently caressing everything! Look at me go! I could do it all day!”

“Ooor just stay over that bit for a while! I suppose! If that’s what you want.” Octavia looked at Vinyl dead in the eye. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting fishy.”

“Absolutely! I’m just an adult mare, gently rubbing another adult mare, in a completely appropriate fashion! Because she asked me to do so, and what is just a little bit of fondling between friends, right? Hah! Hah!” She rose her hooves back to Octavia’s back. “There you go! See? Just copping a feel! Like one does!”

And Octavia gave Vinyl a small smile. “Thank you!” she said. “Sorry for making you do this.”

“No need to! Nothing to apologize for! And, hey, now that I have touched your ass, we can finally move on!”

“Sure! Although, um.” Octavia frowned. “So, was there anything stuck there or…?

Pause.

“Right. Give me a moment.” Vinyl lowered her hooves again, copped another feel, slapped something away, rose her hooves. “Right yes something stuck but there’s no blood. I think it was just tangled with your tail. Does still hurt?”

Octavia was grimacing. “A little! I think I’ll have a bruise tomorrow. You didn’t have to be so rough!”

“Right, I—”

“But at least I’m not bleeding! Right? You didn’t feel anything wet down there.”

Vinyl’s shades covered most of her face, but it was still painfully clear that she was blushing. “And look at the time!” she said, looking away, at the wall, where there was nothing remotely resembling a clock because they were in the dungeons and why would you have a clock there. “Time to leave and shut up for a while!”

“Okay!” Octavia nodded, and started to roll around and nudge Vinyl to the side… and then she stopped, and her ears perked up. A devious glint made it to her eyes. “Although,” she said. “I say! Seeing how you just inspected my curves rather thoroughly—that thing Princess Luna said, you know, it’s still bothering me a little bit…?”

Vinyl nodded. “I am ignoring you.”

“Aw, come on! Can’t a mare just get a compliment when she needs it?” Octavia made a huff, but then just kept talking, pout still on. “Alright. Let’s see, if I remember the layout correctly, we need to go over there, and then reach the—do you think we may be able to climb stairs like this?”

Vinyl looked at Octavia. The blush was going away from her face. “What, like, roll up some stairs?”

“Yes.”

“You just rolled over half a pebble and almost broke in half, you tell me.”

“Ah-hah! Perfectly fine point to make!” So Octavia frowned, and looked down. “Let me think for a moment. If we want to avoid the stairs, we can probably go to the dumbwaiter and use it…”

Something nagged at Vinyl here, and she took the chance to ask aloud as soon as she saw it—anything to distract herself from everything that had just happened. “Say,” she say. “How come you just know all this?”

“Hmm?” Octavia came back to reality, and looked at Vinyl face to face, which made Vinyl blush again, but neither of them acknowledged it. “Sorry?”

“Like. Uh. Why do you know the layout of the dungeons? Like, I get it, your family built them, but… Do all Pianissimos know about this, or something?”

“Oh?” Octavia snickered, cutesy, and then admitted: “In a sense! Building Canterlot Castle is not a small feat, right? So my family…”

“Is really smug about it?”

“Yes! Exactly! We don’t say it so openly, though.”

Vinyl nodded. “Gotcha. It is a feat, I guess, so congratulations on that. Go on.”

“I will!” Octavia winked at Vinyl. A hint of mischief made it to that angelic face, and Vinyl had to look away for a moment to compose herself. “So we just hung the original blueprints of the Castle all around the walls of our mansion. They’re quite priceless!”

Vinyl gulped, and then looked at Octavia, testing if it was safe now. She wasn’t winking anymore, so probably yes. “Right,” she said. “You just proudly expose the blueprints of the building where the leaders of our kingdom live.”

“We do!”

“Riveting. Then again, I guess that when you’re as bad as Equestria at homeland security, at one point you just legitimately stop caring.”

“Mmm-hmm!” Octavia frowned again, lost in thought once more, trying to remember. “So. If we want to avoid the stairs, we need to go over… there!” she said.

Looking at the way they were already going.

Because they had already turned left a while ago, and they had only stopped after the accident with Octavia’s back.

Octavia kept talking anyway. “Then I suppose we can take the dumbwaiter and the lift. There’s a lever, if I remember correctly… Right, and that would bring us up to the hall.” She capped it all with a smile. “And then we can search for Princess Celestia!”

“Perfect.” Vinyl nodded. “Also, no.”

The smile dropped from Octavia’s face. “No?”

“No.”

“No what?”

“We’re not looking for Princess Celestia. We’re looking for a friend of mine—she’s probably in the Castle right now—because she’ll be able to deactivate the bomb. And then you hide somewhere, and I—”

“What? But Princess Luna told us to find her!”

“Princess Luna also said we need to go on a quest to save the world, and we’re not doing that either,” Vinyl grunted, and rolled around. Now she was on top, looking down at Octavia. Pretty suggestive pose. Not the wisest thing to do. “Looking for Princess Celestia is just an extension of that. They’re trying to fool us into becoming heroes.”

Octavia gasped. “The fiends,” she said.

“Yeah, see? You’re getting it.”

“I am! I am getting it.” Then Octavia rolled around until she was on top, looking down on Vinyl and oh, hey, that was even worse. Her mane cascaded around her face, caressing Vinyl’s cheeks. Smelled nice. This was terrible. “Okay no, that was a lie. I thought we were avoiding this topic? Why do we not want to be heroes, again?”

Groan, roll over, Vinyl on top. “Okay, Octavia. Do you have any idea where I come from?”

Roll over, Octavia on top. “I do not! Where do you come from?”

Vinyl on top. “You getting dizzy too?”

Octavia on top. “This is very fun! But also yes I feel like I’m going to vomit at this rate.”

“Right.”

They stopped rolling, and simply lied side to side.

“Okay.” Now that they weren’t frolicking like little lambs in a grass field, Vinyl had a breather and thought really hard about what to say. “You need to understand that, like… You’re from Canterlot, right? But I’m not. I’m from Ponyville.”

Octavia took this without reacting, at first—then her right ear twitched with recognition. “Ah,” she said. Then: “That Ponyville?”

“Yes.”

“The one that keeps attracting disaster? Literally right next to the Everfree?”

“That one.” Vinyl nodded. “Now. Me being from there, here’s a pop quiz for ya: How many world-saving adventures I’ve had by now, like, just by proxy?”

And Octavia made a face. “Ooof,” she said. “Yes, I suppose that’s—one a month?”

“Average is one a week.”

Technically not a single lie so far. Vinyl felt rather proud of herself.

“I see! I see.” Octavia sighed, and nodded. “You have had your fill for harrowing quests in your lifetime, then?”

“I’m a musician by trade and I haven’t had a gig in ages because I keep getting involved in postponing the apocalypse.” Vinyl’s face darkened. She started biting her lip. Certain memories always came back whenever this topic was brought up. “I’ve seen a lot of stuff, Octavia. I have—hnng!”

Octavia had been nuzzling her cheek. When she saw Vinyl stiffen, she cocked her head to the side. “What?”

“What the—what was that?!”

“I nuzzled you!”

“Why?!”

“Hmm.” Octavia shrugged. “You were saying? No more saving the world, right?”

“I—” for a moment Vinyl felt like pressing the issue some more, but to be absolutely honest, in hindsight that had been a welcome distraction. “…Yes. No more adventures.”

“Riiight.” Octavia didn’t seem to mind Vinyl’s furrowed brow now, fancy that. She was just lost in thought, which was interesting, because all of a sudden she looked elegant again, rather than cutesy. “Is that the right thing to do, though?”

“Yes.”

“Won’t it be bad if we refuse the call like that? We are the Chosen Ones!” Octavia looked at Vinyl. “Princess Luna might be better at cannibalism than she is at socializing, but she does hold some ancient wisdom. I think she might be right in that regard!”

“Yes, bu—cannibalism?”

“Yes!”

“…She does that?”

“Not anymore! And that’s the important part.” Octavia nodded, both to herself and to Vinyl. “You were saying?”

Vinyl squinted, but let that pass. She took off her glasses to make the next bit more genuine: “…Right. Look, Octavia—Destiny literally gives us tattoos on the flank when we approach puberty, okay? Everypony is a Chosen One.” Vinyl sighed. “And I don’t mean to be disrespectful towards Princess Luna? But she sort of tied us to a bomb first, asked questions later.”

“She did that! She absolutely did that. But won’t it be dangerous?” Octavia sat on it for a bit. “If we… refuse the call?”

And Vinyl shook her head. She still looked a bit troubled, but this time she sounded convinced. “Nah, not really. I’ve seen a lot of ponies ‘refuse the call’ before, actually.”

Technically not a lie either.

Octavia’s eyes went wide. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah. I told you, I come from Ponyville. It’s not the first time I refuse the call myself.” Vinyl sighed. “And all that happens is that the Elements of Harmony appear out of nowhere and just get the job done anyway? That’s sorta what they’re for.”

“Aaah, I see.” Octavia was nodding now. “I see! They are Destiny’s last resort?”

“More like Destiny’s handyman, but yeah. So, we get the bomb deactivated, and you just hide and don’t die, and I do whatever.”

“That sounds like you are going to die, actually!”

“Whatever, I said. I stand by it. Sounds like a plan?”

Octavia thought on it. She was the one who knew the way, so she was aware that Vinyl actually needed her. It wasn’t a rhetorical question; Octavia had to be part of the plan. She could say ‘no’ and screw up everything, and force her to fulfill their destiny. So she said:

“It does sound like a plan, yes!”

But then added:

“However…”

And Vinyl flinched so hard it was a miracle the bomb didn’t immediately go off.

“You know, I really do not want to be seen as naggy, buuuuut.” Octavia looked to the side demurely. She stopped hugging Vinyl with one of her hooves just so she could play with her mane a little bit, in a casual way. “That comment that Princess Luna made, I have to say, it does make me wonder if I’m actually plump…?”

“Oh, for the love of—no, you’re not fat! You’re the opposite of fat. You’ve got a wonderful figure! Okay?”

“Really? I do?” Octavia immediately turned to Vinyl, and she lit up like a million stars at night. The smile she put on crossed her entire face. “Oh, but you don’t have to say that, you sly, you!” She gently, playfully slapped Vinyl’s shoulder. “Come on, tell me the truth! I can take it.”

“No, no, like, I copped a feel and all that. Really nice figure, ten out of ten. Would do it again. Would recommend to my friends. Amazing texture, soft in the right places—”

Octavia arched an eyebrow, face suddenly hardening. “Soft?”

“—in the right places. It’s a good thing. Like, you’re pleasant to hug. In a, uh, conventionally attractive way!”

“Ah, shush, you. Now I know you’re just flattering me!” Pause. “You can keep talking, mind you.”

“Blegh. You’ve got a good ass, I don’t know what else to say.” And with a flash of her horn, Vinyl put on her glasses again. “Now. Are we doing this, or not?”

“Sure! Definitely! You’ll hear no qualms from me whatsoever!”

“Great, so. No hard feelings about us not saving Equestria or any of that. We’re on the same page. Screw Destiny, and let the world burn, and all of that?”

“Absolutely!” And the smile on Octavia’s face was the most honest, most beautiful, most innocent think that Vinyl had seen in her entire life. “You got a terrible concussion back there, right? That counts as an adventure already. Especially because I didn’t get one! I’m sure Destiny won’t mind if we take the rest of the day off.”

“Neat. Okay, then. Let’s roll on this rock.”

“Let’s!”

“And I hate how I worded that last bit.”

“Me too!”

They made it to the dumbwaiter.

“Ooooh,” Octavia said. “This is bad!”

“This is super bad,” Vinyl added.

It was bad.

The thing about the dumbwaiter is that it had been mostly designed to bring food to the Royal Guards attending the lower dungeons. And as far as that went, it was perfect! It was able to get a bowl of hot soup from the kitchens all the way to the dungeons. Extremely efficient method of transportation.

“As long as you’re a bowl of soup yourself,” Vinyl added, glaring at the ridiculously tiny entrance to the dumbwaiter. “Which we are not, I gotta add. No way we fit in there.”

“I agree!” Octavia was still talking in that peppy way of hers, although she did flinch a little when they heard another explosion outside, and then she tugged at VInyl until they rolled closer to the dumbwaiter. It was by the left wall of the Guard post, right next to a door that led to stairs they couldn’t climb, and in front of a table full of things they couldn’t reach. “But open it anyway? I think we might make it work!”

Vinyl arched an eyebrow, but let herself be rolled. She flashed her horn to open the dumbwaiter’s door, wordlessly, already looking around for other ways to leave. None in sight.

“Ah-hah! See?” Octavia tapped her on the back to get her attention, and pointed at the dumbwaiter. "It’s actually pretty big inside. It’s just the entrance that’s a tight fit. But we can make it work! Come on, let’s try it!”

Vinyl looked. “We super don’t,” she said.

“Nonsense! I’m exceptionally slender, you yourself said that.”

“…Did I?”

“You did!” Octavia sounded serious. “My memory is very good.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Now let’s get in!”

They couldn’t get in.

Vinyl popped her head out, sweating, and groaned. “Okay,” she said, blinking hard to shoo the headache away. “Not so slender after all. Do we write the dumbwaiter off?”

Octavia, equally sweaty, glared at her.

“I meant me,” Vinyl said. “You’re still slender.”

Octavia immediately brightened up. “Good!” she said. “That is a clever thing to say. I’m glad to see you’re learning so fast!”

“You aren’t exactly subtle.”

“I am not! Oh, but also?” Octavia winked at Vinyl. “Don’t undersell yourself! You’re toned, it’s pleasant.” And she gave Vinyl a little squeeze to sell the point.

“Blegh.”

“Hahah. Still, it’s such a shame we can’t fit in. It would be perfect!” Octavia leaned in and looked at the inside of the dumbwaiter again. “Vinyl, can you try to use your magic here? Give us an extra grip?”

“Depends,” Vinyl said, arching an eyebrow. “Want me to squash your head?”

Pause.

“Is that a rhetorical question or are you actually—?”

“Rhetorical question, Octavia.”

“Ah.” Octavia frowned. “Then I… don’t?”

“That is not how rhetorical questions work.”

“…Oh. Then I do?”

“I—what?” Vinyl blinked, and took her shades off a second to arch an eyebrow at Octavia. “Uh. No?”

“Is that a rhetorical question too?”

“Octavia, do you even know what rhetorical means.”

“Pfhah! Silly question.” Octavia nodded a little, to butt heads with Vinyl, forehead against forehead. A cutesy gesture; how exactly did she manage to dodge Vinyl’s horn while doing so, Vinyl would never know. “I have no idea.”

“At least you’re honest.”

“I am! Us aristocrats can afford to be true to ourselves, see? Everypony else has to put up with us anyway, so we might… as…” her eyes suddenly gleamed, and a devious smirk made it to her face, and moved her face away from Vinyl’s. “Well…”

Vinyl saw that, and followed Octavia’s gaze. “Oooh, what?” she asked. “What are you looking at?”

Octavia was looking at the table.

The dungeons were rarely used, but that didn’t mean they were abandoned. There were some things around the office—a chair, some buckets and an old broom by the corner… And of course, the table that was too high for them to reach. That’s what Octavia was looking at—or rather, everything on top of it.

An empty bowl, full of dust. A spoon and a lost knife. And down from the floor it was hard to see, but the thing right next to it seemed to be bottles and condiments, and among them…

“…Olive oil,” Octavia purred. Purred. It gave Vinyl shivers; if good or bad, she had no idea. “Vinyl?”

Vinyl didn’t like the way she said that. Or she liked it a lot. Whatever. “Octavia?”

“I think I know what we need to do now!” Octavia looked at Vinyl now, trickster smile on her face, showing just a tiny bit of teeth. It made her look like a little devil. “What do you usually do when you find a very tight hole?”

Silence.

Vinyl squinted. “Is that a rhetorical quest—”

“You use lubricant!”

“What.”

They covered themselves in olive oil.

Octavia and Vinyl dashed through the inner wall tunnel.

RACKT-RACKT-RACKT-RACKT-RACKT-RACKT-RACKT.

“This was a terrible idea!” Vinyl yelled.

Octavia squinted. “What?!”

“I’m saying this was a terrible idea!”

RACKT-RACKT-RACKT-RACKT-RACKT-RACKT-RACKT.

“I can’t hear you! But this was a great idea, right?!”

“No! No, it wasn’t! I’m fairly sure this legally counts as torture!”

“Hahah! Yes!” Octavia grinned. “Like a rollercoaster!”

RACKT-RACKT-RACKT-RACKT-RACKT-RACKT-RACKT.

So.

About that dumbwaiter.

The good news was that it was, indeed, a marvel of engineering, able to get a bowl of hot soup from the kitchens all the way to the lower dungeons and deliver it while still warm. The bad news was, the lower dungeons weren’t used often, so the dumbwaiter hadn’t been properly tested on installation, and nopony had bothered to fix it afterwards.

Sure, it would deliver the bowl in time. The soup itself? Not so much.

So Octavia and Vinyl were completely blind at the moment—not a lot of light in there—and they were racing so fast that too much contact with the speeding walls would grate them until they looked like soup, ironically enough. They stank of olive oil and felt slimy and slippery. The base of the dumbwaiter was full of old food spills. And the chain mechanism was...

RACKT-RACKT-RACKT-RACKT-RACKT-RACKT-RACKT.

Loud. It was loud.

“I think we should be arriving to the kitchens soon!” Octavia yelled. She had an almost manic smile on her face—sheer terror, if Vinyl had to guess. “In less than a minute!”

“How is this thing even going to stop?! Isn’t the impact going to, like, immediately kill us?”

“I have no idea what you’re saying! But, on a completely unrelated note, I sure hope the impact doesn’t immediately kill us! Because it probably will!”

“What?!”

They made it to the kitchen.

Loudly.

The one thing that saved their lives—and their bones—was nothing other than engineering ingenuity: while the dumbwaiter on the dungeons had been designed to make it easier to take the bowls of soup out, the one in the kitchen had been made to facilitate placing the bowls in.

Which meant there was a noticeable slope at the end of the tunnel on the kitchen’s side, leading out. The olive oil and the inertia did the rest—Vinyl and Octavia didn’t hit the dumbwaiter’s roof and kill themselves once they got to the kitchens.

They simply got slingshotted out at supersonic speed.

Loudly.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—”

“Oh, we are flying! How quaint!” Octavia looked around, marvel in her eyes, as they soared through the kitchens with grace. “This is definitely an experience I was not expecting to have when I woke up this mo—whoops there’s the ground.”

And upon impact, they slid across the floor, leaving behind a trail of olive oil, and producing the most undignified noise Octavia had ever heard.

It took them a while to be able to speak again.

The Canterlot kitchens were, all in all, rather nice: white walls, white floor, exceedingly clean environment, and a slab of meat hanging from a hook over there even though ponies were herbivores. The meat was labelled “beef”, which made even less sense, since as far as Octavia was aware, cows were herbivores also.

The place was empty, but big enough to fit a dozen ponies, because if the Pianissimos were good at something, it was at wasting space. There were multiple counters, each one of them with stoves. Kitchen appliances—pans, pots, the odd misplaced saucer, another slab of meat, what was up with that seriously—hung slightly above eye level all around.

Octavia was the first one who managed to get her voice back. “My,” she said. “We made it!”

Vinyl was wide-eyed, laying on her back—Octavia on top—and staring into space. Her muzzle was red. “I think I broke my face.”

“That was way more exciting that I thought it would be! And also terrifying. I almost died! Let’s never do it again?”

“I’m with you. Is my face broken?”

Octavia looked. Vinyl’s glasses had flown away, and her eyes were bare. “Not from here,” she said. “You look as handsome as ever! Shame about that mane. Let’s move on now!” She nudged Vinyl and pulled her to the side, trying to roll around—but they just slid in place. The olive oil was too slippery to roll; not enough traction. “Oh. Uh-oh.”

Vinyl was still staring into space. “Hmm?”

“I think we need to get the oil out.” Octavia frowned, smelled her own shoulder. Nice fragrance, at least. “We can’t roll like—” she looked at Vinyl—“oh my gosh! Vinyl, your face! It looks terrible!”

“What?!” Vinyl blinked, and stared at Octavia now. “You just said it was okay!”

“Yes, but it got worse! It’s so red! It doesn’t fit you at all.” Octavia kept on hugging Vinyl with just one hoof—they were laying on their side—and caressed Vinyl’s nuzzle with the other; Vinyl flinched. “What happened? Did you land on it?”

“Uh. Yeah?” Vinyl blinked, then frowned at Octavia. “Oh, Celestia. I’m starting to taste colors. Everything else seems fine, though. You okay?”

“I am! Thank you for worrying.”

“Nothing broken?”

“Not at all! Your face broke my fall.” Octavia then rolled—struggled a bit; the oil made it almost impossible—until she was on top, and then looked around, ears perked up high. “Let’s see if we can find some ice to stop the swelling! This is a kitchen, that—uh.”

Vinyl was trying to look at her own muzzle. It still hurt. “Ice would be nice. Also, I’ve been meaning to ask for a while—is my mane really that bad?”

Octavia’s ears went flat against her head, and she swallowed. “Um. Vinyl?”

“Like, I was going for a bit of an eclectic feeling, but if it really looks that terrible, I’ve been looking into red dyes lately? And there’s a surprising amount of things you can do if you don’t mind looking like your entire head is bleeding, it’s pretty neat.”

“Vinyl, we have a, uh, a little bit of a problem?”

Something in Octavia’s voice made Vinyl focus. She tensed up, and immediately forgot all about the pain. “What,” she said. She tried to roll around to be on top, but they just slipped around for a couple seconds until she gave up. “What? What is going on?”

Octavia pointed with her head towards the left side of the room. “There seems to be a hydra there.”

Pause.

Slowly, Vinyl turned around and managed to get a look in the direction Octavia was facing.

“Huh,” she said. “There is.”

They looked at the hydra.

The hydra, standing right next to a giant hole in the wall that it had made itself, probably, stared back at then.

And Octavia lowered her head and whispered: “Just to make sure—are we in mortal danger now?”

Vinyl nodded. “Hmm-hm. Start screaming.”

“Right. Of course.” And then Octavia cleared her throat with a cough. “Ahem. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—”

“RAAAAAAAAARGH!”

The hydra charged, smashing anything that stood in its way.

Pinkie Pie was an interesting character, but she wasn’t that hard to figure out when you got to it. Vinyl Scratch would always put it this way—if you want to understand Pinkie, you need to look at how she moves around:

She doesn’t walk.

She skibbity bops.

It takes twice as much effort and it is half as efficient as using her legs like Nature intended. But Pinkie is too busy having fun to give a single hoot, and she gets to the place where she wanted to be anyway. So, who cares, really?

All this to say: at the moment, Pinkie was supposed to be protecting Canterlot Castle from any wandering hydras. She tackled this task by absolutely ignoring her orders and doing a beeline towards the pastry because she kinda felt like eating cake. She was about to open the small door that led to the cake depository when she heard something strange, coming from the kitchens.

In order:

Bite sound.

Wet sound.

Screaming.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—”

And then roaring.

“RAAAAAAAAARGH!”

So that was weird enough to make Pinkie Pie arch an eyebrow by itself. But, and this was the super duper weird part, once the roaring was done, the cycle started all over again.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—”

“RAAAAAAAAARGH!”

Bite sound, wet sound, screaming, roaring. And then, of course, a third time, for luck:

“AAAAAAAAAA—”

So Pinkie, having absolutely no idea what the words “self-preservation” meant, immediately opened the kitchen doors with a kick and a huge grin on her face, and she yelled:

“Hi there! What’s going on? I’m Pinkie Pie!”

And then she saw what was going on.

So what Pinkie found at the kitchens was—of course—Vinyl, Octavia, and the hydra. More specifically, she witnessed the single most miserable struggle any of those three characters had ever lived through, which had been going on for the last five minute or so.

In order:

The two ponies screamed.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—”

And the hydra, of course, roared.

“RAAAAAAAAARGH!”

Then it threw itself at Vinyl and Octavia and tried to bite them in half.

But the hydra was a total idiot and hadn’t noticed that the two ponies were covered head to toe with olive oil—and a lot of saliva too—and so they were so slippery they slithered out of the jaws at the slightest amount of pressure.

Then the two ponies started screaming again.

“AAAAAAAAA—”

And then Pinkie had opened the door.

This caused everybody to stop screaming for once, and silence fell on the kitchen. The echoes of the screaming vanished little by little, and the hydra—stupid as it was—turned every single one of its faces towards the door and the pony in there.

A pony that didn’t look like it would slither out of its mouths if it tried to bite at it.

“Oh. Hahah. Whoops.” Pinkie looked at the hydra, head cocked to the side, huge grin still on her face. “Now I’m going to die.”

“PINKIE!” Vinyl Scratch’s voice came from the other side of the room—not as much a word as a screech, but it still managed to carry meaning. “RUN! RUN!”

“Hi, Vinyl!” Pinkie looked at her friend and waved a hoof in the air up high. “Didn’t think I’d see you here! How’s it going?”

“RAAAAAAAAARGH!”

“Oh right there’s a hydra here too. Hi, Mister hydra!”

“RAAAAAAAAARGH!”

The hydra charged at Pinkie Pie.

“PINKIE. WHY AREN’T YOU RUNNING AWAY.”

“I don’t know! I probably should.” Then something off the side caught Pinkie’s eye, and both her ears perked up. “Oh, wow. Is that a whole bag of cinnamon?”

“RAAAAAAAAARGH!”

“It is! Look!”

Pinkie grabbed the bag and held it above her head, a good ten kilograms of pure ground cinnamon. The hydra tried to eat Pinkie.

The hydra missed.

“RAAAAA—aargh?”

And bit the entire bag of cinnamon powder instead.

“AAARGHCHGKH. AAAKHJAHJGK. GJHAAARKGJ. A-GHKJAAAGJK.”

“Ah.” Pinkie just stood there, looking at one of the hydra’s four heads suffocate amongst a cloud of brown lethal deliciousness. “You probably shouldn’t swallow cinnamon like that. It’s really bad for your throat!”

“RAAAAAAAAARGH!”

And Pinkie blinked. “Oh, hey, you guys are okay? That’s so cool! I guess having four heads has its advant—IS THAT THREE WHOLE BAGS OF CINNAMON?!”

By the time Octavia and Vinyl managed to catch their breath and try—and fail—to roll their way to Pinkie, the hydra was rolling on the ground, blind, deaf, tearing up, gasping for breath, and begging for mercy.

“That was fun! I like how I didn’t die in the end.” Pinkie gave it a single customary look and then walked away, her eyes as sparkly as ever. “Hi, Vinyl! Hi, Octavia!”

“Uh. Hi.”

“Hello, Pinkie Pie.” Octavia was panting, her coat was a mess, her mane was a disgrace, but she still maintained an air of quiet dignity—and when she looked at Pinkie, she looked genuinely happy. “I am so very glad to see you here.”

“So am I! I think I just saved your lives, too.” Pinkie trotted towards the two ponies, as they were clearly not gaining much ground in their struggle to roll around, and grinned. “So what are you doing here?” She stopped mid-trot and looked at them. “Wait. What are you covered in?”

“Oh, this?” Octavia let out a shy chuckle. “It’s olive oil! Very unpleasant, although it does smell nice.”

“Hahah. It does! Wait.” Pinkie frowned. “You’re covered in oil? And you’re hugging? Why would you—gasp!” She took a step back and pressed a hoof against her chest, eyes wide. “Oh, no! Am I interrupting something?!”

“You’re not.”

“You’re super not.”

“Because Rarity told me that if I keep interrupting somethings, she’s going to have,” Pinkie shuddered, and spoke the next three words with horrified reverence: “a Little Talk with me!”

Pause.

Octavia looked at Vinyl. “Was that supposed to sound ominous?”

“I have no idea.”

“I get the feeling that was supposed to sound ominous.”

“You have no idea how bad are Rarity’s Little Talks!” Pinkie whined, jumping in place but in a very nervous-not-quite-happy way. “They’re terrible! She’s been practicing with Sweetie Belle for years! And Sweetie Belle is actually little herself!”

Another pause.

Octavia looked at Vinyl again. “I have no idea who or what Sweetie Belle is. What is she talking about?”

Vinyl arched an eyebrow, but she looked more bemused than annoyed. “It’s cute how you think I can understand Pinkie Pie.”

“Thank you!” Octavia said. “That is a nice thing to say.” Then she cocked her head to the side. “But I thought you knew each other?”

“We do!” Vinyl said, nodding. “We totally do. It’s still cute how you think I can understand Pinkie Pie.” Then Vinyl tried to roll around—again: olive oil, not happening—and with some effort managed to make herself face Pinkie Pie while keeping Octavia close to her chest. “You can’t really live in Ponyville without knowing Pinkie Pie. Premier party pony, and all that? She’s been throwing me birthday parties for the last five years.”

“That’s right!” Pinkie said, winking at them.

“Even though I never actually, you know. Asked?”

“That’s double right!” Pinkie said. Then she lost her grin and went back to looking scared. “Seriously though, please don’t tell Rarity I interrupted something again? She’s not going to forgive me after what I did to the Cakes.”

“We won’t!” Octavia said. “Also, you didn’t interrupt anything, actually. So Rarity is not going to have a Talk with you. Little or Not!”

Pinkie gave them the puppy eyes. “She’s not?” she asked.

Vinyl rolled her eyes. “No, Pinkie, she’s n—” She blinked. “Well. Actually, you’re you? So, like, statistically she’s totally going to yell at you at some point.”

“Vinyl!” Octavia immediately inched closer to Vinyl and managed to do that thing where you whisper and you yell at the same time. “I understand Pinkie Pie can be awfully obnoxious, but she just saved our lives!”

“Look, do you want me to be nice to her, or do you want me to be honest.”

“I want you to be nice!” Octavia hush-yelled. “And she’s right there! If you don’t whisper, she can hear you!”

“Hahah. You’re like five feet away from me. I can hear when you whisper like that, too.” Pinkie stopped with the puppy eyes and sat down on the floor, right next to them. “But as long as you’re not telling Rarity, I’m okay with it! Good friends aren’t really honest anyway. That’s why we like Rarity.” Pause. “Don’t tell Applejack, though. So what are you two doing here? I didn’t know you knew each other!”

“Well…”

“Also why are you covered in olive oil? Or hugging?”

“We literally just met this morning,” Vinyl said, shrugging at Pinkie. “Not really part of the same crowd. And we’re hugging because of an extremely long, extremely stupid story that involves Princess Luna.”

Pinkie Pie nodded. “That sounds likely! She’s super duper maladjusted to society. ”

“Sure is, we almost died. So.” Vinyl then looked at Octavia. “You two do know each other, then? She’s called you by your name a couple times.”

“We do!” Octavia said. “It is pretty hard to live in Canterlot without knowing Pinkie Pie. She keeps saving the city! Or burning it down.”

“Or both!” added Pinkie.

“Or both!” Octavia agreed, nodding. “It never ceases to be terrible. She also organised my parents’ twenty-fifth anniversary!”

“Huh.” Vinyl frowned. “Did you ask her to do that, by any chance?”

“Hmm?” Octavia blinked. “Uh. I did not, actually! She just showed up one day and did it by herself?”

Pause. Both Vinyl and Octavia looked at Pinkie.

Pinkie beamed. “I’m so good at my job!”

“You are!”

“You super are.”

“Pinkie!”

The doors to the kitchens opened with a deafening blast of purple light, and Princess Twilight Sparkle dashed into the room with the speed of somepony who was clearly born without wings, but is not going to let that stop her. She made it to the pink pony in less than three seconds, and barely sprawled herself all over the floor.

“Pinkie!” she repeated, gasping. “Pinkie Pie!”

Pinkie waved. She was working on one of the cooking stations, rolling something massive over a huge mountain of flour. “Hi, Twilight!” she said.

“Are you okay?! Fluttershy told me there were two hydras, and there are monsters everywhere, and we lost track of you and—uh.” Twilight stood up, blinked, and looked at the other side of the room. “Is… Is that a hydra over there?”

“Yes!” Pinkie said. “It tried to eat me!”

“And it’s… suffocating?”

“Yeah! It tried to eat me!”

Pause.

Twilight fixed her mane and looked at Pinkie, relieved smile on her face. “You know what? I count that as an explanation. I’m glad you’re okay, Pinkie Pie. You had me worried. You also probably left your post even though we’re at war, by the way.”

“Sure did! And, aaaaw.” Pinkie gave Twilight a sweet look. “Thank you for being worried!” She kept on rolling that giant flour thing, which was big enough to taint her hooves completely white, and then she scooped up a tiny bit and put it in her mouth. “Yuck.” She pursed her lips. “This tastes horrible.”

Twilight sighed. “Pinkie, what are you doing here?”

“Kneading!”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

“It’s what I’m answering, though!” Pinkie produced two shakers from her mane and sprinkled some generous amounts of salt and pepper on the batter before taking some more and tasting it. “Oooh, much better.”

“Pinkie!”

“What? I’m helping Vinyl and Octavia!” Pinkie tapped the roll of flour twice. “Say hi, girls!”

Twilight blinked. “What?”

And the roll of flour suddenly moved, and shifted, and turned around to face Twilight. It had two faces.

“Hello!” Octavia said.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Vinyl said. “And this is exactly as stupid as it looks.”

“They were covered in olive oil!” Pinkie chirped above them, throwing some more flour on top of the two ponies. “So I’m helping them!”

A moment of silence. The sound of the hydra choking over the other side of the room was the only thing they could hear—and then something exploded outside, and the Castle shook again.

Twilight simply looked at Vinyl and Octavia, who by now looked like a really strange cannoli, and then at Pinkie. “Pinkie Pie,” she said, voice perfectly calm.

“Yes?”

“Are you interrupting something again.”

“No!” Pinkie’s voice immediately rose two octaves and her eyes went wide. “No no no no no! I’m not!

“Because you know the rules. If you interrupt something, I’m calling Rarity. And she is not in a good mood lately.”

“Noooooooo!”

“Ahem!” Octavia didn’t cough, she literally said the word ‘ahem’. Her mane was a single clump of wet flour that framed her face and made her look like a sentient pastry. “Your Highness? Princess Twilight?”

Twilight looked at Octavia, apologies all over her face. “Yes, yes, I know,” she said, flashing her horn and floating Pinkie away from the working station and towards her. “We’ll be leaving now so you can continue doing… Whatever this is. I’m not judging!” Then she forced a smile and floated Pinkie even closer. “We’re leaving now.”

“Twilight, noooo! Aaaaaaah!”

“No! No, no, there’s nothing to apologize for! Or to judge. Well, maybe Vinyl’s aesthetic inclinations. But that’s beside the point!” Octavia wiggled around, although it was hard to move while covered in flour like that. “Pinkie Pie did not interrupt anything! Princess Luna played a prank on us and—”

“There’s a bomb strapped to us!” Vinyl yelled from under Octavia. “If we stop hugging at any point for the next seven hours, it will explode!”

Silence.

And then Twilight Sparkle took a step back, business all over her face, and she simply looked at Pinkie and arched an eyebrow. “A bomb,” she said. “They’re strapped to a bomb?”

“And they came here covered in olive oil! They were fighting a hydra.”

A flash of Twilight’s horn, and Pinkie fell to the ground. Twilight still looked serious. “They were fighting a hydra and they’re strapped to a bomb. Right. Chosen Ones?”

“Chosen Ones!” Pinkie chirped. “The one under Octavia is Vinyl Scratch!”

“Oh, is she?” Twilight flashed her horn again, and the Vinyl-Octavia cannoli started floating in midair. Flour fell down from them like snow, only less pretty, and Twilight took a good look. “Ah,” she said then. “She is. Good morning, Vinyl Scratch.”

Vinyl looked exactly as amused as one would expect her to look. “Twilight.”

“Running from Destiny again, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Twilight.”

“That explains a couple of things. Okay!” Twilight then sighed, and she sat down on the floor next to Vinyl and Octavia. Behind her, Pinkie did the same. “Canterlot is under attack, but hydras are easy. I don’t know if we can shoot a bomb with friendship. What’s exactly going on?”

“…And then Pinkie Pie said, the best way to take olive oil off is with flour!” Octavia said. “And then she just dumped us on the cooking station and started, uh. Kneading us?”

“Mind you, she never asked for permission.” Vinyl had her glasses on again, and they hid most of her face, but it was still pretty clear she was glaring at Pinkie. “She literally just started kneading us like that and then laughed a lot.”

“It was really kind on her part!”

“It was terrifying and has literally done nothing but worsen our situation.”

“That’s right!” Pinkie Pie said. They were all sitting—or lying—on the floor, but Pinkie got up with a hefty bounce at this point. “But now I can do this!” And she got closer to Vinyl and Octavia and pawed some of the clumpy flour off. It peeled away seamlessly. “See? Oil and flour off!”

Twilight frowned. The bags under her eyes looked darker than ever at that moment. “Pinkie,” she said, sounding tired. “You could have used soap.”

“But this is much more fun!” Pinkie licked the bit of flour she had pawed off, and grinned. “And the flavor’s perfect, too! You can’t get that with soap.”

“That’s not—”

“Ah!” Pinkie’s ears perked up, and she looked to the right. “Wait! Mister Coughie is getting up!”

Twilight blinked. “What?”

“The hydra!” Pinkie pointed at the hydra at the other side of the room. “I call him Mister Coughie. And he’s getting better!” She pointed at Vinyl and Octavia. “Peel the flour off. They’ll be squeaky clean in no time! Meanwhile I’m going to force some more cinnamon down Mister Coughie’s throats.”

And Pinkie left.

Octavia, Vinyl, and Twilight all watcher her go in silence.

“…Your Highness?” Octavia finally said.

“Twilight is fine.”

“Good! I can’t stand formalities..” Pause. In the background, Pinkie Pie was laughing and the hydra was suffering. Octavia talked again: “So. Twilight?”

“Octavia?”

“What is Pinkie Pie doing?”

“I have no idea, but she took care of that hydra all on her own, so who am I to judge?” Then Twilight shrugged, got up, and flashed her magic. Vinyl and Octavia went up in the air. “Close your eyes just in case,” she said as she did this. “There’s a lot of pepper in that flour and I wouldn’t want you to go blind by accident. And, Vinyl Scratch?”

Vinyl didn’t need to close her eyes, since her shades were big enough to protect them—which gave her ample room to look at Twilight with perfectly innocent eyes. “Yes?”

“I can’t say I was expecting you to be a Chosen One again so soon.” Twilight started peeling off the flour off them. “But on the other hand, this does explain why Applejack and Rainbow Dash are rediscovering the meaning of friendship for the fourth time in a row.”

Vinyl and Octavia were floating at an angle so they could both look at Twilight, which meant that Octavia got a perfect first-row sight at just how hard Vinyl flinched at this comment. “Oof,” she said. “Right. Did Destiny force the call on you guys?”

“Sure did.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean that to happen.”

“Um.” Octavia leaned slightly closer to Vinyl and whispered in her ear. Her breath tickled. “I was under the impression this was literally the plan? Do not answer the obvious call to adventure and let the Elements of Harmony deal with the catastrophic aftermath?”

“Yes, that’s the plan,” Vinyl whispered back. “But I am lying, see.”

“Aaah.”

“Heroes don’t mind doing your dirty work for you as long as you make it look like an accident. I’m just playing with her.”

“I see! That is very clever!”

Twilight was arching an eyebrow, hard. “You guys do realize I’m five feet away from you and I can hear everything you’re whispering, right?”

“We’re aware!”

“We’re super aware.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Oh, great. You get along. Hold on tight, please.” Then light surrounded her horn, and Vinyl and Octavia felt themselves rise and twirl in midair as Twilight peeled off the flour in bigger chunks. “Huh,” she said. “This is pretty effective.”

“Hi!” Pinkie Pie made it back to them and sat down next to Twilight, content smile on her face. “I’m back! Coughie ate the cinnamon again. I think he’s starting to like me! That, or he’s given up hope already. Either way, good news!” She then poked Twilight on the side. “What are we talking about?”

“They’re the Chosen Ones but they’re forcing us to do their job,” Twilight said. Peeling Vinyl and Octavia felt and looked like peeling a giant, oddly-shaped, sentient orange—but it was also oddly satisfying. “Also, the flour actually worked!”

“Of course!” Pinkie said. “This is just like cooking but without a fire. And they’re not saving the world, huh?” Pinkie rubbed her chin. “That does sound like Vinyl Scratch.”

“It really does.” Twilight kept on peeling, but took a moment to give Vinyl a meaningful look. “Dash and Applejack are butting heads, so I guess that part of what Destiny had in mind for you two was that you would rediscover the true meaning of friendship.”

“Ooooh.” Pinkie nodded. “That’s a classic!”

“It doesn’t seem like you two are having any problem in that regard, though. What’s exactly your relationship at this point?”

And Vinyl blinked. She looked at Octavia. “Uuuuuh…”

“We are casual acquaintances!” Octavia said, after looking right back at Vinyl. “We had a rocky start because I insulted her mane and she called me an inbred. But then she gently lifted my tail and gave me a massage—”

“We get along,” Vinyl interrupted, words harsh. “We get along fine, yes.”

Twilight flashed her horn one last time, and Vinyl and Octavia were lowered to the ground once and for all. They looked rather messy, but no trace of olive oil or flour left in them. “Right,” she said. “On the one hoof, annoying as it is, this might mean that the key to defeating the hydras is just friendship again. Which is good news!”

“It is!” Pinkie said. She grabbed the salt and pepper shakers and stuffed them back in her mane. “We are really good at friendship!”

“We really are. On the other hoof…” Twilight blinked really hard and suppressed a yawn before continuing. “There’s the whole bomb business, and I have no idea what that’s about, or why Princess Luna would force that on you of all ponies.” She was looking at Vinyl when she said this.

Vinyl noticed this, so she replied. “Princess Celestia’s idea, apparently.” Her tone was bitter. “Ask her.”

“I will, once I see her. But still—why? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Octavia had also noticed the strange looks Vinyl had been getting, so she was frowning. Still, when she talked, her voice sounded normal. “Because we’re the Chosen Ones!” she said. “That’s why we almost died twice in an hour.”

“Thrice,” Vinyl said.

“Thrice?”

“I’m counting the dumbwaiter.”

Twilight waved a hoof in the air. “Yes, sure, you’re the Chosen Ones this time—but why? It’s not like Destiny can pick whoever. The Chosen Ones are always special.” Twilight pointed at Pinkie and herself. “The only reason why we keep getting selected is because we’re actually a pretty well-balanced group, so we fit most archetypes.”

Pinkie nodded, big smile on. “Yeah! I’m the oddball who never learns anything!”

“No, no.” Twilight shook her head, and tapped Pinkie’s hoof. “You’re the oddball who never needs to learn anything.”

“Ah.” Pinkie blinked. “Aaaah. Then who’s the one who never learns?”

“Fluttershy.”

“Oooh.”

“Yeah. And, you two.” Twilight went back to looking at Octavia and Vinyl. “You must have something special we’re not thinking about, something that only works if you’re friends. That’s why Applejack and Rainbow Dash are arguing, so they can make up later. But the bomb, and the dragon… Hmm.” She looked at Vinyl. “Have you tried disassembling that thing?”

“No can do,” Vinyl said. She lifted her shades. “A dragon named Labcoat made it, and he said it’s charged with dragonfire. The only alloy strong enough to support that kind of power is coltpixie gold, and I don’t know if you remember what happened at the Cowliphate…”

“Hmm.” Twilight squinted. “The rise of the coltpixies,” she said. “That explosion that blew up half the country? Was that the alloy?”

“Yes. We tried to disassemble their machine. Turns out, it was made of coltpixie gold. Not our brightest idea.” Vinyl took a deep sigh, and then put her shades on again. “The bomb works with a pressure plate that I assume has some kind of magical component. Knowing the coltpixies, the only way to disassemble it safely is with a stray of silver-salt, or enough Wendigo ice to cool off the mechanism and…”

The words died in her mouth.

Octavia was looking at her with eyes the size of plates.

“…And. Uh. Ah-hem.” Vinyl looked away, and fake-coughed. “Ah-hem.” Twice. “If, uh. If we try to touch the bomb, it, uh. It’ll go boom boom?”

Twilight looked at Vinyl, then at Octavia, and then at Vinyl again. A bit of a smirk made it to her face. “Yes,” she said. “It’ll go boom boom.”

“Vinyl?” Octavia was staring at Vinyl still, with that angel face of hers. “This feels significant!”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“That is a lot of information about explosives I was not expecting from an electronic musician.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“All that matters is that we can’t disassemble the bomb.” Twilight spoke, and immediately, Octavia stopped paying attention to Vinyl. The Princess sounded exhausted. “If I had the time and the materials, I could give it a try, but right now I don’t think it’s safe.” Pause. “Also, there’s a war outside.”

“Oh, yeah!” Pinkie looked around. The Castle, as if on cue, shook slightly after something big hit one of the outer walls. “I forgot about that. Twilight, we need to find more cinnamon! It’s really important!”

And Twilight blinked, and looked at Pinkie. “We what?”

“To find more cinnamon!” Pinkie pointed at them. “I have a plan. We’ll give it to Mister Coughie!”

Twilight turned around to look at the suffocating hydra, blinked for a second time, and then: “Uh. Sure. Why not? Better than teaching Dash the value of honesty for the fourth time this week.” Then she got up, but before she walked to the hydra, she turned to Octavia and Vinyl one last time. “I’m sorry I can’t help with the bomb business, by the way.”

“No need to apologize!” Octavia immediately replied, ever-so-sweet. “Thank you very much for saving the world for us! We would really rather not.”

“I know. I’ve known Vinyl for a long time.”

Vinyl had an awkward smile, but she still looked back at Twilight. “We’ll just hide and wait this out. Bon is probably around, right? What with the hydras.”

“Probably? Also, uh...” Twilight frowned, and looked at Octavia before continuing. “I think A.K. Yearling is here too, in case you wanna see her?”

Octavia blinked. “A.K. Yearling?”

“Nah, I don’t wanna see, uh, Yearling,” Vinyl said. “But Bon? Maybe she can help me with the bomb.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage!” Pinkie said, giving Vinyl a wink. “But you should leave soon! Mister Coughie is getting better at choking. I think he can’t feel pain anymore.”

“Reassuring, Pinkie.”

“Thanks!”

“Wait.” Octavia squirmed a little, resting her chin on Vinyl’s shoulder to give Pinkie and Twilight a better look. “We’re leaving? Wouldn’t it be safer for us to stay near you?”

Twilight looked at Vinyl before answering. “…Not a great idea,” she said. “We could try to find you a good place to hide, but—”

“We’re all caught up in an adventure!” Pinkie chirped. “And Vinyl can’t get involved. Or else Destiny will grab her!”

“Oh!” Octavia frowned. “I… see? I think.”

“You’ll be safe, anyway,” Twilight said. “I promise. I mean, you have Vinyl with you. Go through that door and then through the corridor to the—”

“The Ballroom?” Octavia asked, ears perked up. “Right on top of the Throne Room? Good idea! That is the sturdiest part of the Castle! The walls being thicker in the west wing after all.”

“I—uh.” Twilight made a face. “What? How…?”

“Octavia Pianissimo,” Vinyl said. “Her family still has the blueprints.”

“What? Of the entire Castle?”

“Yep.”

“We actually put them up as decorations all through our house!” Octavia added, with not a subtle hint of glee to her voice.

And Twilight grimaced. “Ugh. I need to talk to the Princesses about tightening our national security.”

“You really do,” Vinyl said. “Thanks, Twilight.”

“Don’t mention it. And…” Twilight gave them a stern look. “This goes without saying? But don’t go rediscovering the true meaning of friendship while we’re not looking, you two. That would put all of our efforts to waste.”

And to this last point, Vinyl Scratch replied with a cocky grin, and a smug look, and as much swagger as she could put in her voice. “Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “I am absolutely sure that is not going to happen.”