Twilight, Starlight, and Trixie sat in a circle, Conquering Hell for Dummies and The Big Bad Book of ALL the Blackmail in the center of it. They’d planned well, and now it was finally time to put their scheme into action. There was just one last thing to do.

“Trixie does not understand why we have to go over the plan yet again,” complained Trixie. “We’ve all memorized each others’ parts perfectly.”

“Yeah,” said Starlight. “At this point, if we went over the plan again, all that’d happen is that some demon would listen in and they’d hear it prematurely.”

“…You know what? You’re right,” said Twilight, standing up. “We all know how it’s going to go down. Let’s go. Teleport spells ready?”

“Ready!” said Starlight and Trixie. All three ponies’ horns started glowing.

“And… go.”

It was coffee break time again in Marechosias’s hell when the trio portalled into it. Trixie immediately gagged and pulled her hat over her muzzle. “This place smells like rotten eggs,” she gasped.

For once, Marechosias looked vaguely pleased. “I know!” she said, flexing her wings. “It took a long time to get that smell wafting about properly, what with all the sulfur in the air. I bet I’ll-”

“Ah, shaddap,” whined the sailor. “Yer a real ego-strokin’ botch, y’know that? Go funk yerself.”

Marechosias’s mood vanished like a cake down Celestia’s throat. “Coffee break’s over early today,” she growled. She snatched the coffee cup away from the sailor and he was completely submerged in the acid.

“A bit harsh, don’t you think?” asked Starlight. “Denying somepony coffee like that.”

“Not at all. He is supposed be here. Look.” Marechosias shoved a book at the ponies entitled The Compendium of Sin, Vol. 692234963, Part W, Section Ξ, Division 不是秘密, flipped open to a page, and pointed. “There’s a description of his sins. Right there.”

Twilight started reading. “Oh. Oh. Oh- OH. Oh… Oh. Oh? Oh! …Oh. Oh.” She reached the second paragraph, read for five words, and promptly slammed the book shut. “Yep. He deserves that.”

“Plus, he annoys me,” Marechosias mumbled. She folded her wings and held her head high in an attempt to look dignified. “So what are you doing back here, anyway?” she asked. “Lost? Come to just rub your freedoms in my face? Or do you actually have a reason this time?”

Twilight began, “We want your help ta-”

“Ah bah bah!” said Trixie. She smacked Twilight on the head. “You shouldn’t simply tell her what we’re doing. Make it grand, interesting, give it a hook! You were always so boringly straightforward.” She stepped forward, puffed her chest out, and bellowed, “Good demon sit-”

“Hey!” snapped Marechosias. “Don’t insult me like that!”

“…Bad demon sitting before us!” recovered Trixie. (“Thank you,” grumbled Marechosias.) “There are many things in this world and others that are thought to be impossible!” She swept her hoof in a broad arc. “And Trixie would like to know if you would like to be a part of one! For in two… three…” She blinked and turned to Twilight. “When are we… doing the thing?” she whispered. “I mean the main thing.”

“Um… I don’t know,” Twilight admitted, her ears back. “Whenever she has time?”

Trixie whirled back to Marechosias. “For soon and very soon,” she boomed, “us fine mares and Twilight shall upset the status quo of eternity! And you can be a part of it! All you have to do…” She reared and whinnied, her cape billowing dramatically in the wind she’d conjured. “…is help us conquer hell itself.” Fireworks soared from beneath her cape, exploding spectacularly. “A once-in-infinite-lifetimes opportunity!”

“Uh-huh, sure,” said Marechosias. She waved the smoke away from her face. “And you three… mortals think you can waltz in and take over hell because…?”

“Because we found the book in the Library of Babel,” Twilight said patiently, “that gives us — and I mean us specifically — step-by-step instructions for taking over hell. Technically, we don’t need your help, but it’ll go a lot faster if you do. Please?” She smiled sweetly.

Marechosias raised an eyebrow. “The instruction book was clever, I’ll admit, but I need more incentive than that. Give me one good reason I should help you.”

“I’ll give you your job back,” said Twilight.

“Revenge!” Trixie crowed at the same time.

“The satisfaction of crushing your enemies underhoof and grinding them to dust!” Starlight cackled simultaneously.

Twilight and Trixie stared at Starlight.

“Oh, don’t look at me like you don’t like that feeling!” protested Starlight.

“I… don’t…” said Twilight quietly, scooching away.

“Trixie does! Trixie was simply unaware that you would be so upfront abo-”

“SOWHATDOYOUTHINK?” Twilight yelled at Marechosias.

Marechosias stroked her chin. “Hmm. Three good reasons.” Her grin was rather sharklike, if that shark routinely brushed its teeth for pearly whiteness. “I’m in. Where was that book you mentioned?”

“Instructional or dramatized?”

“Wait, there’s no dramatic training montage?” complained Marechosias. “All the work I do with you gets talked about in a single paragraph where I complain about the lack of a training montage? Get a better version of this book now, Twilight. The author of this one is a lazy hack.” She squinted at the words. “And since he included that ‘lazy hack’ bit, he probably also thinks tired self-deprecation will win him sympathy points. Oh, and don’t get me started on his postmodernism-”

Making envious ponies the president of their rival’s fan club was such a fantastic idea that Levannerthan was genuinely surprised no one had come up with it before. That particular punishment had only been running a few days, but the lower-downs had already deemed it a most sublime torture. Levannerthan made it a point of pride that he reused punishments as little as possible, but if he could get a few changes from that idea…

Someone knocked at the door. Levannerthan looked up to see a familiar figure enter his office. “Hey, Marechosias,” he chuckled. “Done with your internship yet, Marquis?”

“I quit, actually,” Marechosias said airily, adjusting her glasses. “I have a new boss now.”

“A new- A new boss. In hell,” said Levannerthan. “And I suppose that’s so much better.”

“Quite a bit better.” Marechosias dropped a scroll on Levannerthan’s desk. “And she has a message for you.”

“Does she now?” Levannerthan said idly. He broke the seal on the scroll and unrolled it. “I hope she knows we don’t allow solicitors.” He skimmed the scroll. It opened with a polite request (not even a demand! She said “please”!) to surrender, of all things. Right. He went to the “or else” clause for fun. Who did she think she was, thinking that-

Oh no.

Levannerthan grabbed the scroll tightly and read it with wide eyes. She had no business knowing that! Buneigh had promised he wouldn’t say a word about that tectonic shift! And the scroll went on and on and on. Every time Levannerthan thought she had dredged up the last humiliating thing from his past, there was another paragraph with another thing. And another. And another. If this ever got out, he’d be in a hole he’d never be able to get out of, and not the kind hell was supposed to be, either.

And then the chaser:

Your employees have received their own personalized letters. All of them. Envy will surrender or I will make it tear itself apart.

Booger.

Marechosias was smiling. “Like I said. Quite a bit better.”

Levannerthan swallowed. “Whoever she is,” he whispered, “tell her Envy surrenders.”

And so they fell, one by one. Each circle of hell, brought low by their own vices with shocking rapidity. Rumors flew of an omniscient equine, capable of delving into the thoughts and minds of anyone with impossible ease. She had dirt on everyone, including the dirt itself. The last circle collapsed before they’d even received a message from Twilight, deciding to give up when the going got tough.

But a minute few demons refused to abandon their positions. And as Twilight’s goal became clear, they took up positions around hell’s final citadel, Satanner sequestered within, all of them ready to go down swinging.

Hell’s new Grand Marquis, appointed after all others below him in the chain of command had bolted, was unsure of his position. He was formerly an Earl, true, with a command of many demons, but this… Nearly all of hell had been various forms of gutted, cooked, braised, stuffed, and baked in mere hours. By three ponies. Three. Ponies. What the heaven was hell coming to?

But perhaps this was the kick in the pants hell needed. The Grand Marquis assumed that he’d be able to drive the ponies away. Then what? Then the ones who’d caved would be outed as cowards, wimps, exactly the sort of demons hell didn’t need. Demons who’d held strong — such as himself — would receive a depression in their status, moving ever closer to the bottom. And a reorganization of hell would be needed, after so many of its ranks were revealed to be backstabbers, and not the expected kind, either. Perhaps he could finagle his way into even greater power.

The Grand Marquis tightened his grip on his glaive and nodded to himself. He would prevent them from breaking into the citadel.

Three cute little ponies marched on the citadel, waving a white flag of truce. The infernal throng that followed them wasn’t their soldiers or their servants; they didn’t need any of those. The demons were merely spectators.

The Grand Marquis tightened his grip on his glaive. They didn’t look intimidating, but that was probably how they’d managed to take over so much so fast. The cutest things were always the most vicious. Like rabbits, those little jerks. So fast and so strong and they could chew through wires in a heartbeat and their bites hurt (relatively speaking), yet everyone thought they were adorable because of their hoppy little legs and their twitchy little noses. Screw rabbits.

The ponies stood some distance away from the citadel. “Truce?” called Twilight.

“Truce,” the Grand Marquis said reluctantly.

Twilight waved Trixie forward. Trixie bounded up and posed most dramatically. “Bad demons of hell!” she yelled. “You are the last members of the old guard, the final remnants of a dying order. Your time has come, whether you accept it or not. But we are not unmerciful! Or at least as unmerciful as you can get in hell while still being good. Or- bad.” She froze, her ears twitching, and screamed, “You know what I mean! Hem. Before you fall, we come to you with one final choice, one that will determine your future now and forevermore. Thus saith Twilight, Starlight, and the Grrrrreat and Powerful Trixie!” (Twilight facehooved.)

“What sort of ridiculous name is ‘Trixie’?” scoffed the Grand Marquis.

“Trixie is a fine name! It is better than yours, Furfur!”

Grand Marquis Furfur went so red he passed out of the visible spectrum and straight into infrared. Several demons behind him giggled.

“Now,” said Trixie, “in spite of your heinous attempt to derail this truce, we are still merciful. You have two options. You can let us in. Or we can let everybody know every single one of your clean little secrets, those tiny little indulgences that you don’t want the world to see, those most wholesome acts.”

“I have extreme doubts,” Furfur said, not even managing to convince himself, “that you know anything more about me than what anyone else here does.

“Really?” sneered Trixie. “Like your needlepoint obsession?”

Furfur’s grip tightened on his glaive and his heart would’ve stopped if he’d had one. More snickers from the demons behind him.

Trixie pointed behind Furfur at the other demons. “And the same goes for you! Don’t think that just because we haven’t contacted you yet doesn’t mean we don’t know everything about you!”

The snickers immediately vanished.

“So you see the truth of our ultimatum,” Trixie said smugly. “You have thirty minutes-”

“Trixie!” screamed Twilight. “We decided to give them an hour!”

“Oh, they won’t need it!” Trixie said, turning to Twilight. “They’ll cave, just like all the others, we don’t need-”

“We agreed on an hour, so we’re giving them an hour!”

“You are so overblown,” huffed Trixie. She turned back to Furfur. “You have an hour to make your decision! And we’ll be waiting.” The three ponies turned their backs on the citadel.

Furfur had a choice to make: abandon his master or his dignity. Of course, if he abandoned his master, he wouldn’t have much dignity left, anyway. With opposition in his very ichor, he would not go gentle into that good night (although the metaphor didn’t really work, considering the lack of nights in hell, but oh well). He turned to the few demons still standing with him. Some had already left after Trixie’s show. “Prepare to release the Hound.”

A demon saluted. “Yes, sir.”

…

…

…

“…Furfur.” Gigglesnort.

Fifty-eight minutes later, the ponies returned, Twilight leading the trio this time. They sat and watched the demons. Well, Twilight and Starlight watched; Trixie fiddled with her hat and amused herself by tossing lit cherry bombs at the crowd, who competed gleefully to catch and eat them. At least until Twilight nudged her on the shoulder and told her to cut it out.

Finally, the moment arrived. “Well?” Twilight said, standing up. “Your hour’s up. I want your answer.”

“You want our answer?” yelled Furfur. “This is our answer! Open the gates!” Demons scattered, and with a sound of grinding bones, the gates of the citadel were opened.

And from the depths came the hellhound.

It was massive, taller at the shoulder than Twilight was at the horn. Blood-red and black patterns covered its body, twisting and writhing. Each of its teeth was over a foot long and its claws could tear through castle walls like they were butter. Spikes protruded along its backbone and down its tail. Its eyes burning with cold fire, it turned its gaze on the ponies.

“Trixie thinks the leader should handle this,” Trixie whispered. She pushed Twilight forward while she and Starlight took a step back. Twilight gulped.

The hellhound advanced on the ponies, magma dripping from its jaws like slobber. “You look…” it rumbled, “positively… scrumptious.” It licked its lips. “You will almost be worth it for rendering me so rudely awakened.”

“Uh, look,” said Twilight as she backed up. “I can make this up to you.” Her horn sparked. “Look, I, I have a ball.”

“Foolish mortal,” the hellhound chuckled. “Do you really presume-”

“Lookit! Lookit the ball! Lookit the ball!” Twilight said, waving the ball around. The hellhound’s head snapped to follow it. “You see the ball? You want the ball?” She drew the ball back; the hellhound crouched, its chin on the ground, its tongue hanging out, its butt in the air, its tail wagging. “Goooooooo- get the ball!” She pitched the ball into the distance.

“Victory!” crowed the hellhound, bounding after it. “The ball is mine!”

“Now!” yelled Twilight, and each pony’s horn glowed. A crackling portal opened in space ahead of the ball; the ball bounced through, the hellhound blindly following. A second later, the portal collapsed. There was no sign of hellhound or ball.

“He is so getting demoted to heckdog,” mumbled Furfur, massaging his temples.

“Now,” Twilight said, spreading her wings wide. “I’ll give you one single second chance. If you don’t mind…” She walked straight up to Furfur and looked him in the eye. After an epic staring contest, Furfur stepped aside and let Twilight enter.

“Come,” Twilight said to Starlight and Trixie. The three of them entered the citadel, and the doors boomed shut behind them.

Less than half an hour later, after the final, fateful announcement of surrender had been made, Twilight, Starlight, and Trixie strode back out, this time from one of the upper balconies. Upon Twilight’s head sat the crown of hell, constructed of malevolent thoughts and “hold my beer” moments. A cape of spiderwebs and sour moods streamed out behind her, and when her horn glowed, it did so with an unearthly red.

Twilight climbed onto the railing of the balcony to address the assembled horde. “Demons!” she yelled, her wings wide. “As the new Queen of hell, I do hereby proclaim that Satanner will be the King Regnant of hell in my stead, managing my affairs in my absence. All work and positions in hell shall be unchanged, aside from Marechosias being reinstated to Marquis.”

“Woo!” Marechosias screamed from the way back of the crowd. “Yeah!” She pumped a fist in the air.

“With only one exception,” continued Twilight. “The organized Library of Babel? That’s now my library. You may use it as you please, but if you disrupt my reading time, or my books, or ANYTHING in my library, I can order you ripped apart limb from limb and fed to your friends!” She cackled madly. “As it should be!” She frowned down at the cowering assembly. “Seriously. Don’t fuck with my reading time.”

“I told you you’d love grinding your enemies,” Starlight whispered.

“They’re not my enemies, they’re reading-time meddlers!” Twilight whispered back. She cleared her throat and turned back to the crowd. “So if you can just follow those simple rules, we’ll get along just fine.”

A spark, and a set of fireworks soared over the crowd. They burst, brightly-colored sparks twirling unnaturally through the air. Each spark took up a position, and within seconds, a picture had been assembled, limited in its color palette and yet magnificent in its detail: a gigantic, glowing, fifty-foot-wide image of Trixie’s face.

“Sorry! Sorry! Wrong fireworks!” squeaked Trixie.

“Why don’t I believe you?” asked Twilight.

“Because you’re a judgmental neurotic who refuses to let the past die in spite of your own position in Equestria?”

“…Point.”

A new set of fireworks zoomed out. This one burst into a slightly smaller rendition of Twilight’s head, glittering lavender. Once the sparks had burned themselves out, silence fell over the crowd. Far in the back, Marechosias hollered out, “All hail Queen Twil-”

But Twilight raised a hoof, silencing the chant before it could begin, halfhearted as it may have been. “You don’t need to do that. I just want to read. Okay? Don’t hail me. Go back to… doing… whatever it was you were doing. I’ll be at the library.”

Twilight had been reading for a whole hour with no disruption. Bliss. All she’d wanted was some quiet time alone. Was that too much to ask for? Starlight and Trixie were both gone, not wanting to stay in hell for some strange reason. A few stupid demons had tried to be rebellious and disorganize some books, but they weren’t around any more. Thanks, infernal powers of hell!

She flipped a page, humming. She was so wrapped up in her reading that she paid not the slightest iota of attention when a certain demon stepped out of space to loom over her.

“I’ve been watching you,” rumbled Beelzebuck.

“Good to know your eyes still work,” said Twilight, not looking up. She was putting her eyes to far better use than simply watching people.

“Do not think,” hissed Beelzebuck, “that simply because you-”

“Begone,” Twilight said. She waved a hoof in Beelzebuck’s general direction.

And, enforced by the powers of hell, Beelzebuck was gone.

Twilight spared a few precious reading seconds to look up, gaze on the spot where Beelzebuck had been, and smile to herself. There could be no better heaven than this.