Sunken Horizons

by Goldenwing

First published 10th of May, 2019

Twilight glared at her reflection standing among the ruins. "You know you're a monster." It only smiled, revealing bloody fangs.

For the first time in a thousand years, the old magic has returned to Equestria.

The Elements of Harmony have been torn asunder by the careless Equestria they found themselves in just one month ago. Twilight Sparkle fled into the ocean, pleading for her friends not to follow her after only barely stopping the destructive rampage caused by The Other. Rainbow Dash and Applejack, with nothing but their knowledge of Twilight's nature and a crew of seasoned adventurers, leave Altalusia hoping to find their lost friend and bring her back. Meanwhile, Countess Rarity finds herself trapped among the machinations of Duke Titus, but perhaps she can yet use her new position for good.

But the new Equestria remains as treacherous as ever for six mares lost in time, and the sunken ruins of their old home still holds fresh and terrifying dangers. Mysteries a thousand years old demand solving, and even those born on the floating islands of the new Equestria may find themselves torn between two paths.

The world changed in the absence of Twilight Sparkle and her friends, and with their return it braces for change once more.

---

Edited by Noc, Dominus Alicorn, and PsyonicG.

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I: Of Betrayers

We’ve rested long enough.

Twilight opened her eyes. The soft sand of the sea floor clung to her coat as she rolled onto her back and looked up at the pale purple glow of the shield dome that surrounded her.

She took in a deep breath. It was stale and damp, filtered from the ocean through the arcane fabric of her shield. She thought back to her first dive, when she had rested on the ocean floor much as she was now, listening to the ticking in her ears, feeling her own breath hot on her cheeks, and watching the bubbles drip out of her dive suit and up into the darkness above.

The bubbles. Twilight leaned her head to the side, eyeing the steady stream of bubbles drifting off the outer surface of the dome. How she wished that she could close her eyes and let the peace of sleep take her once more. Perhaps she would sleep a thousand years and wake up in the Equestria she’d known as a filly. She had traveled such a length of time before, hadn’t she? Surely there was a way back.

Foalish fantasy will accomplish nothing, little flower.

Of course she didn’t have the luxury of such dreams. Equestria was still depending on her, and every second she spent here added to the deep well of guilt within her. More urgently—as selfish as it felt to think—her friends were no doubt searching for her. She couldn’t let her friends find her. Not until she had fixed herself.

You were broken when I found you. It is I who is doing the fixing.

Twilight let out a small groan as she pulled herself out of the clinging sand and stood up straight. It had been three days since she’d eaten anything, and she felt it in the ache of her muscles. It was only by the virtue of her magic reserves that she remained alive.

You’re welcome.

Twilight’s horn glowed as she cast a simple compass spell, and she oriented herself northwest. Her mind lingered on the old charts that she’d seen Star Trails plotting paths on. It had been three days since she left Altalusia. Assuming that her memory of the coordinates and scale were correct, and that she had taken accurate measurements of her travel, she should have reached her destination by now. She must have overshot it last night.

She pulled more magic into herself, sighing as her horn took on the weight of her body. The purple shell of magic stayed with her as she floated off the seafloor, releasing a rush of bubbles in its wake.

Twilight called the framework of her teleportation spell to mind. Her lips curved into a frown as her magic remained static, refusing her commands.

I will not be ignored!

Twilight clenched her teeth. Hot tears began to burn her cheeks as she pulled at her magic harder, willing it to obey her. Pain began to build in her mind, but she pressed on. It was her magic.

It is our magic, and you cannot ignore me!

Twilight cried out as the pain overwhelmed her. She dropped back to the soft sand of the ocean floor, biting back sobs. “Go away.”

You would die without me, the Other whispered. You lack the strength to survive the ocean on your own.

“Maybe I would rather die than be like this,” Twilight hissed. Violent shivers ran through her body. “You hurt my friends.”

We both know that failure is not an option. A firm hoof touched Twilight’s cheek, and she looked up into her own eyes, framed in red tears. The Other looked down on her, its mouth set in an unmoving frown even as its voice echoed in Twilight’s head. I did only as you requested.

“You promised!” Twilight shot to her hooves with a scream. “You said you wouldn’t hurt them!”

They interfered! The Other drew itself up high, its ethereal voice echoing in the depths of Twilight’s mind. As did you!

With her magic locked away, Twilight did the first thing that came to mind—she reared up and tried to stomp her dark reflection’s face in.

Twilight yelped as she fell through the open space in front of her and smacked her face against the hard surface of the dome. A deep-throated growl escaped her as she scrambled back to her hooves, spinning around to see the Other. It was standing in the middle of the little dome, lips twisted into a sneer.

You missed, little flower.

Twilight’s entire body was shaking. The tears were still flowing, but the pit of despair in her gut was tightening, boiling over and seeking escape. Her horn began to glow.

That’s it, the Other goaded, stepping closer. It met her fury with open-mouthed hunger, a long, slithering tongue hanging limp from between bloody fangs. Let it out. Can you feel it yet? Hit me with all the hatred you’re holding inside yourself!

For uncounted seconds, Twilight stared into the bloodshot eyes of her grinning likeness. Her magic pulsed inside her, begging for the catharsis of escape, and she couldn’t help but let out a shuddering sigh as she reached for it.

The memory of steady green eyes came to her. Twilight squeezed her eyes shut, looking away and shaking her head. The Other could stop her from using magic whenever it wanted, and had done that very thing not a moment before, yet it was allowing her access again. It wants me to lose control.

“No.” Twilight took a deep breath, thinking of her friends. She thought of Applejack’s quiet commiseration. “I won’t do it.”

The Other scoffed. Its voice whispered in the back of her mind. Perhaps not now, but in time.

Opening her eyes, Twilight sought refuge in purpose. “We should get moving. We must be nearly there now.”

Ah, so we finally agree on something.

Twilight couldn’t help but grimace at the invasive thought. Her horn lit, and she twisted her magic into the familiar form of a teleportation spell. With a crackling pop, a tingling static, and the brief sizzle of boiling water, Twilight threw herself across the depths.

“We’re not going to Canterlot.”

Rainbow Dash narrowed her eye, regarding the other pegasus coldly. “What did you say?”

“We’re not going to Canterlot,” Sea Sabre repeated, meeting the glare without hesitation. “We aren’t prepared.”

“Prepared?” Rainbow stomped her hooves against the floor of the cargo hold, filling the expansive room with the resounding clang of her outburst. “Who cares if we’re prepared? Twilight needs us!”

“I care,” Sabre countered. The two pegasi were seated on thin mats up against one wall, their wingblades gleaming beneath them from the fresh polishing that they applied after each practice session. A thin lather of sweat marred both their coats, a testament to the strain of their training. “I won’t send my team in there unprepared.”

“What’s changed?” Rainbow demanded, her voice cracking. She stood up, stretching her aching legs, and began to stalk across the room as she spoke. “You went down there before, when you found us, and everything was fine. And now you have me, too!” Rainbow rounded on her mentor, jabbing a wing at herself. “We’re better prepared!”

Sabre shook her head. “Circumstances have changed. We’re returning to Heighton.”

“Buck Heighton!” Rainbow shouted. “Twilight needs us!”

Sabre’s voice rose to match hers. “Rainbow Dash, listen to me!”

Rainbow stiffened, cowed by the familiar tone of the order. Sabre had broken out her commander voice. It was the one she used to let ponies know that they had crossed over the threshold from civilian to military, and she no longer had the patience for argument. Rainbow felt her body instinctively snapping to attention, conditioned by long days of training.

“My job is not to be your friend!” Sabre advanced on Rainbow as she spoke. “Mr. Rich pays me to run this ship for him, and my only other responsibility is to the safety of my crew!”

Rainbow kept her eyes forward as she opened her mouth. “My—”

Sabre pressed on, cutting her off. “I did not bring them down into the ruins of Canterlot looking for you nor anypony else! I did not bring them to Ponyville, nor the Serpent’s Eye, nor Fellis, nor Altalusia for any reason other than the whims of my employer!”

“But—”

“Twilight Sparkle is not my friend,” Sabre said, her eyes hard. “She was my commander, and she is now a threat to my crew who you are asking me to chase. I am not going back to Canterlot just because you think she might be hiding there.”

Rainbow swallowed. She angled her head to the left to ensure that Sabre could see her eye clearly. “Am I your friend?”

Sabre held her gaze for several seconds before speaking. “Rainbow Dash, you’re a talented and passionate mare. Given some additional training and discipline, I would be glad to have you on my team.” She paused. “But I would not yet consider you my friend.”

Rainbow looked away to hide the disappointment in her remaining eye. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Sea Sabre sighed. “You know my priorities.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rainbow shrugged, keeping the other pegasus on her blind side. “I don’t need your explanation.”

Sabre stepped back into view. Her gaze had softened now. “Talk to Mr. Rich when we get to Heighton,” she said. “You’ve seen how he is. He might want me to help you find Twilight. Either way, I’m not going after her without making extra preparations. This crew is outfitted for salvage, not bounty hunting.”

Rainbow scowled. She tossed her mane, letting it fall over her eyepatch. The long hairs tickled at the scars on her face. “It’s not bounty hunting.”

“There may not be a bounty, but we’ll be hunting someone who doesn’t want to be found,” Sabre said. “Someone dangerous.”

Rainbow sighed. She walked past Sabre, back to where her wingblades were set out on a simple cloth, and began to wrap them up. Sabre followed in silence, doing the same to her own, much older set.

The simple ritual was a brief relief from the thoughts that had haunted Rainbow’s mind for the past four days. She still had the bruise from where Twilight had struck her at Altalusia. The screams of dying soldiers woke her up sometimes at night, paired with the scent of fresh blood. She’d fought in that battle as much as any pony had. She’d finally felt like she was making a difference. And yet no matter how many times she cleaned and polished her wingblades, she still saw the same red stains.

She wondered if Twilight had been conscious when she burnt those soldiers alive with her magic. She wondered if Twilight would feel any less guilty even if she wasn’t. She wondered why, even now, she still felt so angry.

Sabre cleared her throat beside her. “You ready for lunch?”

Rainbow nodded as she picked up her bundled wingblades. “Sure. Just let me stow these.”

She spread her wings, jumping up to the miniature cloudhome she’d been steadily expanding along the top of the cargo hold. She had never practiced much with cloudcarving as a youth, and the sparse interior of her room often made her miss her home more than anything. She placed her wingblades on a rack she’d made special for them. Making cloud hard enough to hold objects was a long process, and it had taken her a few tries to get it right, but she didn’t have too many possessions anyways. It worked out.

Rainbow lingered inside the little room and scratched a hoof against the soft cloud floor. Her wings shuffled against her back, aching to fly. Maybe someday, once things finally settled down, she’d have the time to discover the final fate of Cloudsdale. She could feel the tug calling to her. She knew it couldn’t be around anymore, so why did she still feel it?

I wish Shy had come along. She missed their talks, but she understood. Fluttershy didn’t feel safe on the Argo, and Pinkie Pie needed her. Still, talking to Applejack just wasn’t the same.

When Rainbow glided down to the floor of the cargo hold, Sabre was waiting for her in the doorway. With a nod and the hiss of steam, the two pegasi stepped out into the hall.

Rarity grimaced as she looked down on the land below. The guest room she’d been staying in had been ruined during the fighting—collapsed in the wake of one of the tremors—and Titus had instead granted her a suite of her own on the second floor. It was larger, with a spread of three rooms, and adorned with valuable wooden furniture carved from the island’s trees. It also had several windows and a pair of balconies that overlooked the surrounding countryside.

It was on one of these balconies that she now stood, watching as villagers and soldiers alike toiled in the wake of Twilight’s rampage. The outer wall had been mostly repaired, although there was still one worker steadily replacing the iron spearheads at the top. A crew of sweating ponies paused to eat bread in the shade of one of the great columns after spending the hours since dawn repairing the walls of the mansion. A pair of well-dressed mares, hired from outside Titus’ demesne, hunched over wide drawings spread over a simple wooden table.

Many of the villagers had brought children with them, either to help or to supervise, and the laughter of the younger ones could be heard in the distance as they played games of soldier in the burnt out and shattered fields outside the walls. Rarity shivered as she remembered walking through the land and hearing children pretend at fighting to the death in the very same fields that had harbored a real battle not even a week prior. Even back in Ponyville, foals had played at being Royal Guards, but those usually involved chasing down criminals or rescuing stranded ponies. When did foals begin dreaming about hurting ponies instead of helping them?

The gentle flutter of wings from above brought her out of her thoughts. She turned, forcing a smile, only for it to falter as she saw the object hanging from Fluttershy’s hooves. “Fluttershy, dear, what are you doing?”

Fluttershy landed on the balcony next to her with a tired sigh. “Oh, Rarity, I didn’t have any choice!” She squeezed the injured bear cub against her cheek and gave it a gentle nuzzle. Rarity took a step back as it let out a high-pitched growl. “We couldn’t find his parents, and none of the other critters were willing to take him in!”

“He doesn’t look very happy to be here, darling.” Rarity grimaced as the cub wriggled out of Fluttershy’s hooves and rolled onto its back. Tiny claws, no less sharp for their size, waved through the air.

A wan smile graced Fluttershy’s face as she scratched at the cub’s belly, ignoring its claws. “Of course he doesn’t. You wouldn’t be happy if you had lost your home either, would you?”

Rarity’s breath hitched as she looked away. Her roaming eyes happened to fall on a young filly holding a bucket of water. She watched the filly pour some of the water on a freshly turned soil pile and receive an encouraging pat from a mare with brown stains worked into her coat. The mare grabbed a shovel before leading the filly to the next burnt husk of a tree, and then Rarity couldn’t see anymore through the wet blurriness in her eyes.

“No.” Rarity’s throat burned as she forced the words out. “I’m not.”

“O-oh.” Fluttershy’s voice wavered. “Um—”

“We should g-go inside.” Rarity spun in place and trotted back into the relative safety of her bedroom. She collapsed against her bed and, her image now safe from wandering gazes, allowed herself to sob in earnest.

Even through the tears, Rarity could see the redness forming around Fluttershy’s eyes as the pegasus hesitated on the balcony. A bird was nestled in her mane, nursing a broken wing. “Rarity—”

“Don’t look at me!” Rarity’s voice cracked as she turned away and buried her face in her hooves. Oh, what had happened to her? She’d been keeping it all in so well, even when she’d seen that little unicorn filly in Fellis, and now one off-hoof comment had shattered her.

“Rarity, I—”

“I’ll talk to Titus about the bear,” Rarity said. “Would you—c-can you close the door?”

Several seconds passed before Rarity heard the balcony door close. She let out a shaky sigh when the sound of wingbeats outside followed soon after.

Rarity slumped onto her side. She didn’t even have a picture to cry over. A powerful sob wracked her body as she thought of her mother teaching her how to brush her hair, and her father ignoring her fashion advice, and dear little Sweetie’s misguided attempts at cooking. She thought of Applejack’s description of the remains of Ponyville, and wondered if she would even be able to recognize their bones.

She squeezed her eyes tighter, shaking her head and letting out a moan. Why would you think about that, you silly girl?

She shouldn’t have snapped at Fluttershy. The other mare had gone through all the same things she had, and she didn’t deserve to be treated that way. There was just so much happening, and she was helpless in the face of it all! Rainbow Dash and Applejack were out there trying to find Twilight, and she was trapped in her gilded prison like the damsel in a fairy tale, breaking down over innocuous questions!

What right did Titus have holding her here? Her lip curled back as she recalled the way he had spoken to her when she was preparing to leave. “Ye won’t be goin’ any further than I can throw ye without my permission, Countess.” Oh, how she hated his voice!

But of course he had the power, didn’t he, if not the right? The dungeon tower had been wholly untouched during the battle, and those bandits were still relying on her. With every passing day, the opportunity to take it all back drifted further away. How could she change her mind after letting those ponies live in hope for nearly a week? She couldn’t. She could almost feel the noose tightening around her throat.

And what of the other pony in Titus’ dungeon? The anger began to boil inside her as she thought of Ana’s face. Scoundrel! When Rarity picked herself up off the ground, the tears had stopped flowing. The tightness in her chest had been joined by a tightness in her jaw.

She burst out into the hall without even a glance in the mirror. Servants and laborers ducked out of her way with wide-eyed expressions as she barreled past them. Whitehorn opened his mouth to say something as she passed him in the parlor, but he wisely thought better of it.

The door to the dungeon stairwell let out a loud bang as she slammed it open. Her hooves clip-clopped against the stone as she climbed, and the echoing reverb drove her on like a jeering crowd in the back of her mind. By the time she reached the top of the tower, she felt nothing but fury.

She shoved the trapdoor open and climbed out into shadowy confines of the dungeon. The imprisoned bandits jumped in alarm at her arrival, their faces each taking on different mixes of hope and fear, but they were not whom she came for.

Rarity twisted to face the one cell which didn’t have an opening at the back. The space had been bricked up, preventing the flight-capable occupant from simply jumping to her freedom, and the resulting shadow made it impossible to see the unlit center of the cell. It was only when Anatami moved, her golden eyes glowing like beacons in the dark, that Rarity was able to fix her with her gaze.

“You.” Rarity’s voice shook as much as her body. She advanced on the traitor’s cell with deliberate steps. She kept her voice calm, but she didn’t hold back any of her fury. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Ana regarded her with a cool demeanor that only fanned the flames in Rarity’s chest. “I was wondering when you’d show up.” She went to lie back down, but stopped as Rarity lit her horn.

“Why?” Rarity demanded. “Explain!”

Ana narrowed her eyes. “What’re you gonna do with that horn?” The pale blue light illuminated her cell, highlighting the scrapes and bruises on her matted coat.

“I’ll—I’ll—ugh!” Rarity reared up, slamming her hooves against the bars. She reached out with her magic, dragging the thestral to the edge of the cell through brute force. “I could have you killed!”

Ana’s eyes widened for a brief moment as her hooves slid across the floor without her permission. She recovered quickly, meeting Rarity’s gaze with strained coolness. “I believe that’s already the plan, Countess, though I hear you’re staunchly against execution. Perhaps you could save my neck like you did for them?”

“You don’t deserve it,” Rarity hissed.

“And they do?” Ana shot back. “They’re bandits who would’ve killed your companions and turned you in just like I was planning. If anything, they’re less deserving of mercy than I am.”

“Shut up!” Sweat began to drip down Rarity’s forehead as she struggled to maintain her magical grip. “We trusted you!”

“That was your first mistake,” Ana said. A coy grin came to her face. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to trust a thestral?”

A deep, guttural growl rose out of Rarity’s chest. She pulled Ana back and began to slam her into the bars, forcing her words out through clenched teeth. “Don’t—you—talk about—my—mother!”

Her heart pounded in her chest as she let the dazed prisoner fall to the stony floor, but she gave her no time to recover. “You don’t deserve the right to speak of her! She was a kind pony, a caring pony, and she certainly never taught me to doubt the word of a stranger just because of the shape of her body!”

Ana looked up at her, and for a moment Rarity thought she saw a flash of guilt in her eyes. It was gone in an instant, replaced with the same sneering grin. “I guess I have her to thank then, huh?”

Rarity’s hind legs dropped out from under her. “What is wrong with you?” The tears had began flowing again, and she hated the way her voice quailed. “Don’t you feel even a shred of remorse for the pain you’ve caused? We gave you a bed to sleep in! We defended you when the ship captain didn’t want to take you on! We—” Rarity sucked in a breath. “I made you a dress!”

Ana’s grin faded. She rubbed at her fresh bruises as she turned away. “It was a nice dress. But you should have known not to trust someone like me.”

Rarity choked out a biting laugh. “Is it too much to ask for an apology, Ana? Is that even your name, or is that just another lie?”

“I have nothing to apologize for,” Ana said. Her ears drooped as she spoke. “I was doing what I had to to get by. You wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re right, I don’t understand!” Rarity shouted, glaring through the tears. “We never did anything to you, and your barbaric partner hounded my friend until she broke! It’s your fault that all this happened! Do you hear me? Your! Fault!”

Ana’s ears snapped up, and she rounded on Rarity with a snarl. “Don’t you talk about my sister like that!”

“Your sister?” Rarity echoed, her smile growing more strained. “You dare to bring up my family after what you’ve done to me, and have the nerve to snap at me when I mention your bloodthirsty monster of a partner? She’s not even your sister! She’s a griffon!”

Ana bared her teeth. The two mares stared each other down, one smiling through her tears while the other shook in silence, before Ana looked away. “You couldn’t understand.”

“Falling back on that again, coward?” Rarity stood back up as the weakness in her legs passed. “Tell me that you’re sorry! If you have even an ounce of decency in you, apologize for betraying us and hurting my friends!”

“I won’t apologize to you,” Ana said. She turned away fully, sitting down facing the wall. “The plan should’ve worked. If your friend hadn’t turned into that monster and nearly ripped the island apart, then we’d all be long gone already.”

Rarity glared at the back of Ana’s head, breathing hard. A motion to the side caught her eye, and Rarity turned to see one of the bandits waving for her eye. In her anger, it took her a few seconds to remember the mare’s name to be River Pie.

“S’not worth it, Countess,” she said. “Ye can’t trust ‘er kind.”

Rarity exhaled a long, slow breath. The fire in her breast flickered and faded as she looked back to Ana once more. “I have nothing against her kind,” she spat. The thestral remained still, facing the bricked up window as stiff as a statue.

The bandit mare was right. All the shouting and crying in the world wasn’t worth it. Anatami had shown her true colors, and she would suffer the consequences of her actions. Perhaps Rarity would even be there to watch.

Opening the trapdoor with one last glimmer of magic, Rarity began the winding climb down the tower. The echoing of her steps only made her feel even more empty inside than she already did.

With a sigh, Twilight let herself drift downwards. She frowned as her hooves came to rest on hard stone.

She wanted to look, but she was so tired. Several seconds passed as she stood in place, head down, mustering her energy. Her horn had gone numb an hour ago, along with her lips. Perhaps a quick nap, and then—

We would not wake up.

Twilight jumped, her eyes fluttering open. A circle of sand had been blown away by the shockwave of her teleportation and subsequent air dome, revealing the crumbling remains of bricks underneath. The edges had been worn down so much that some of them resembled weathered rocks more than anything crafted by pony hooves. A tarnished breastplate, only the last stubborn flecks of gold still clinging to its dented surface, caught her eye.

It’s a road.

The Other tugged on her magic, and she allowed the spell to be cast. Thin streams of magic, imperceptible to the physical senses, raced out into the depths in eight directions. One returned.

We’re nearly there. One more jump.

One more jump. Twilight steeled herself, spreading her stance. Oh, how she wanted rest. But to rest now would be to fail Equestria, her friends, and the Princess. Every second she wasted, the weight only grew heavier.

Clenching her jaw in anticipation, Twilight called on her magic. The pulsing ache in her horn immediately flared into a lance of pain that left her breathless and brought tears to her eyes, but she pressed on. Failure was never an option.

The magic wouldn’t come. It simmered deep inside her, just out of reach. She cried out as the pain in her horn began to burn hotter, piercing into her skull like knives digging at the base of her horn. Desperation began to join the tears of pain.

“C’mon, Twilight. Oh, come on!” Her voice shook as she egged herself on. “Just one more! For the Princess!”

She felt the Other watching her, judging her. It didn’t say anything, but it didn’t have to. It thought she was weak. It thought she was vulnerable. It saw an opening, but it didn’t say anything, because it too could feel her thoughts, and it knew that it didn’t have to.

“Help me,” Twilight growled.

What?

“Help me!”

Its smile was a thing felt more than seen, like a snake slithering in one’s bed at night. What do you need, little flower?

“I need your help!” Twilight spat. The light of her horn began to flicker, and with it, the shield protecting her from the crushing water of the depths began to shrink. “I said it! I c-can’t do this without you!”

Well, if you say so.

The surge of power came with such ease that Twilight found herself wondering if the Other had been intentionally reserving some final pool of energy for this very purpose. The world flashed purple, and Twilight collapsed onto the shattered stones at the base of the Canterhorn.

Relief flooded her, tempered by disgust. She had made it, and yet she had given in.

There is no shame in using our full potential, little one. Whenever you shut me out, you’re only hurting yourself.

Twilight’s heart pounded in her chest. The air dome was far smaller than it had been before, barely extending past her legs. “We aren’t there yet.”

She blinked, and the Other was looking down at her with a warm, fanged smile. We can do it together.

Twilight didn’t have the energy to justify any protest, so she merely pulled herself back to her wobbly hooves. When her horn lit, the sound of the magic sparking into being was echoed by another that seemed to come from every direction. Her hooves drifted off the ground.

Time passed in a blur. Even with her and the Other working in concert, no concentration could be spared on internal musings or thoughts beyond the strained arcane ping to ensure she was still on course. The mountain face crawled past at a snail’s pace, marred by deep cracks and the clinging remains of architecture. On two occasions, Twilight sensed something watching her, and she had just enough presence of mind to tense up and then sigh in relief when the strange attention moved on. Her bubble of air shrunk smaller until her hooftips tingled with the energy of the barrier and her breath grew strained with the difficulty of breathing.

When Twilight finally emerged from the water, the air in her bubble was so stale that her first breath of Canterlot felt like a spring breeze. She stumbled forwards, collapsing onto cold stone and shivering as the water dripped from her coat and formed a small puddle beneath her.

A shaky laugh escaped her. “We did it.”

She didn’t need to open her eyes to see the Other’s grin. We did it.

Twilight flinched. Her laugh cut off with a sharp gasp, and she pushed herself off the ground with a shake of her head. What was she thinking?

Is something the matter, little flower?

“Yes,” Twilight growled, pushing herself into an unsteady walk. “You.”

The Other’s grin twisted into a scowl. And here I had thought you were finally beginning to understand.

“I’ll never understand you,” Twilight muttered. “And I never want to.”

Twilight’s horn flickered on. She was in the same tunnel that Sabre had led her through to escape Canterlot so many days ago, the water rippling quietly behind her in her wake. Her horn cast a dim light over the tunnel as she hiked up the smooth path. Her eyes drifted over the walls, taking in the details that she hadn’t had the presence of mind to notice during her flight from Canterlot so long ago. How long had it been? Three weeks? She could barely remember anything about her first day in the future except for—

Twilight’s knees buckled. Spike had been down here the whole time, hadn’t he, trapped in the echoing darkness? She had promised to come back for him, and yet she’d been so focused on the problems before her that she’d barely spared him a thought since leaving.

The Other’s voice hissed in her ears, dripping with false sympathy. Oh, how could you ever be so cruel to your dear, dear friend?

“Shut up,” Twilight muttered. She shook her head and quickened her pace. “I don’t need you pointing out all my mistakes too.”

She heard another set of hoofsteps clopping against the stone, and turned to see the Other walking beside her. Do I sense another thing that we agree on? Blood dripped from its lips as it bared them in a sinister smile.

“I came back, didn’t I?” Twilight turned back to the darkness yawning before her, but the Other was waiting for her there as well, looking back at her with that same smile.

You came back out of your own fear. Everywhere Twilight looked, she saw the Other walking, always facing her with that same sneer. You cannot lie to yourself, little flower. We have fled here with our bruises and our scrapes so you could take refuge in isolation, not on some noble quest.

“It’s your fault.” Twilight squeezed her eyes shut as her whispers echoed into the darkness. “I wanted to stay with my friends, but it’s not safe for me to be around them. Not as long as I’m… like this.”

And so what is your plan, then?

“Why do you even bother asking?” Twilight looked up, meeting the Other’s leer with a heated glare. “I thought you already knew everything about me?”

Oh, but then where would I get my fun? The Other’s forked tongue flicked out as it let its maw hang open. Its mouth remained still as its words continued. You are my only company, after all.

Twilight rolled her eyes. She didn’t have the energy to play its games. “I haven’t eaten or drunk anything in three days. I need to find food and water.”

Ah, a hunt for prey.

Twilight’s only response was a dismissive grunt. She had no intent of justifying the parasite’s games any further. An ethereal chuckle drifted through her mind, but no more words came.

Whereas before it had been only her horn that ached, the physical strain of the long uphill walk was beginning to take a toll on her body as well. She licked her lips, wondering how long it had been since she’d eaten anything. She had evaporated and condensed sea water on the first day for drinking, but had been too wary of running out of energy to carry on afterwards. She would have to find sustenance as soon as she reached the city proper. She didn’t know what she would find, but there must be food somewhere. She licked her lips, thinking of rolling over a chunk of stone and finding a collection of fresh mushrooms.

She distracted herself from the dryness of her mouth by turning her attention to the tunnel itself. The walls were smooth, and not smooth like what would be left in the wake of an underground river. It was too straight, too consistent, to be anything of natural origin. If she had her bearings right, and it was entirely possible that she didn’t, then the tunnel drilled through the bulk of the Canterhorn before coming out on the side opposite the city.

Who could have created such a path, and for what purpose?

Something flashed in the darkness ahead of her, and Twilight slapped a hoof to her mouth to stifle a yelp of alarm. She stood frozen, eyes fixed on the little green glimmer of something that hovered at the very edge of her hornlight, just a few inches above the ground.

Seconds passed, and nothing happened. Were those eyes looking back at her? Was she being watched? She dropped her hoof and opened her mouth, pushing out a hoarse, “Hello?”

Her whispered greeting only made her feel even more exposed. Twilight glanced behind her and jumped at the sight of the Other watching with a judgmental sneer. Well?

Twilight gulped as she looked back to the glimmering eyes in the dark. With a thought she redirected the small pool of magic in her horn, transforming the gentle lavender aura into a sharp cone of light. The world seemed to shrink in as the light drew back from the walls and ceiling of the tunnel, focusing instead on the unknown before her.

A gasp escaped her as she saw the changeling lying still on the hard tunnel floor. It lay on its back, mangled limbs bent at unnatural angles, as its glassy eyes reflected the light of her horn.

Twilight released her magic, plunging herself into total darkness. What had she been thinking, marching into the changeling-infested ruins of Canterlot with a giant, glowing purple beacon on her head? She was lucky that the first changeling she saw was already dead. She wouldn’t have stood a chance if a living scout had discovered her and alerted the swarm.

Well, perhaps you wouldn’t have, the Other whispered. But I would have gladly taken over.

Twilight shivered as she hunched down, channeling the barest trickle of magic into a series of pings all around her. Her horn let out a dozen dim pulses as the weak spells were cast, returning to her with valuable information of her surroundings. She was near the mouth of the tunnel, only a few dozen steps away from Canterlot proper. There was no sign of any movement or life aside from herself.

She still didn’t feel comfortable risking a light, and so she crept forwards in total darkness, feeling with her forelegs for the body. How many of the mutant changelings had come to stalk the dead city in the past centuries? There could be one hiding behind every chunk of rubble, and she wouldn’t know until it pounced.

You are weak. The Other’s bloodshot eyes watched her, the only thing visible in the otherwise total darkness. It is we who are the predator, not they.

I’m no predator, Twilight thought back. Her breath quickened as her hoof bumped against the limp body of the changeling.

We are the most dangerous monster in these ruins, the Other hissed. No number of drones could oppose us!

Shuffling around the corpse so as to put her body between it and the rest of the city, Twilight leaned in low and lit the barest spark of magic at the tip of her horn. She cringed at the thought of something sneaking up behind her, and risked lighting her horn ever brighter to send a few pings out towards the city before focusing back on the changeling.

It must have been dead for some time, its exoskeleton having caved in at multiple points and giving way to sprouting growths of red-spotted, purple fungus. A few holes on its chest were rougher than the others, stained with green blood and ragged around the edges. One of its legs was twisted all the way around and completely gone below the knee. Twilight couldn’t help but shiver as she was reminded of the dead scholars she’d found in Ponyville. The overwhelming scent of fresh blood, engraved into her memories, drifted through her mind.

Trying not to get too close to the cadaver, Twilight focused her attention on the fungal growth. She didn’t recognize the species from any of her reading, although admittedly she had never taken a very great interest in fungus aside from a brief phase as a filly. The thick, droopy caps made her mouth water, and for a moment her growling stomach had her considering the risk of eating them without knowing if they were poisonous.

These pitiful growths will not give us the sustenance we need, little flower, even if they’re safe to eat.

Twilight looked up to meet the Other’s gaze. There’s nothing else.

The Other’s stern frown twisted into a leery grin. No?

Twilight’s gaze flicked back to the corpse for a few confused seconds. Bile rose in the back of her throat as she realized what was being suggested. You’re insane.

You’re a fool, the Other countered. She could feel its chill hooves wrapping around her in a parody of a comforting hug. The meat of this changeling is life, presented to us on the brink of death. Would you rather spend our final hours scouring the ruins for some miracle apple that has survived for hundreds of years?

Twilight shook her head, closing her eyes. I’ll find something.

The only thing we’ll find is more meat, and if we’re lucky, more strange fungus.

No! I’m not doing this! I’m not a monster!

Twilight stiffened as a hoof slithered under her chin, raising it up. She opened her eyes and looked into the cold gaze of the Other. Not a monster, little flower, but something better. I can help you. It smiled, its bloodstained fangs catching a light that came from nowhere. This changeling has no further use for its body, but it can be the difference between life and death for us.

Twilight took a shuddering breath. Her eyes burned, but she was too thirsty to cry. There must be another way.

Are you willing to gamble on that? the Other asked, cocking its head in mock innocence. Who will carry on our quest if we die here? Who will save your precious past?

It was right. Its words made Twilight’s skin crawl with revulsion, but she couldn’t deny its logic. She cursed herself as she looked down at the corpse. Why couldn’t she be more emotional? Why couldn’t she cling on to her ideals of what it meant to be a pony for a few last days wandering the ruins of her hometown? Why did she have to push herself through every hardship and past every moral line in this vain quest of hers? Why do I have to be the one responsible?

Her mouth itched as the Other’s influence wormed its way around her teeth, sculpting the flat molars into a set of fangs suitable for rending flesh. She ran her tongue over the sore tips, feeling fresh bile rising as she felt the sharp edges hidden behind her own lips.

I’ve done my part, the Other whispered. No meat will poison us now.

The expectation in its voice was louder than any spoken demand would have been. The growling of her belly reminded Twilight of a stalking manticore as she grabbed one of the changeling’s legs in her hooves. Squeezing her eyes shut, she opened her mouth and bit down.

The crunch was equal parts terrifying and invigorating. Stale blood dripped into her mouth as she chewed, horrifying her with its thrilling taste. The meat was spongy and dry, and it was the most magnificent thing she had ever eaten.

And she hated it.

Author's Notes:

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II: Of Monsters

Twilight’s ear flicked. Her head shot up, ears swiveling. Was that a hoofstep she had heard, the shifting sigh of the rubble settling around her, or merely another imagined disturbance?

You’re like the helpless rabbit afraid of crossing the fox. Pitiful.

She ignored the comment like the hundred others the Other had sneered at her that day. Or was it still yesterday? It was impossible to tell among the broken bones of Canterlot, where the sun and moon had abandoned the streets centuries ago and the slightest sound could draw sharp fangs and hungry maws.

There were no singing songbirds to mark the morning and no calling crickets to welcome the night, and often Twilight would find herself blinking in confusion, wondering how long it had been as each waking bled across the blurry borders of fitful sleep into the next. At first she had tried counting seconds, but the sound of the numbers growing ever larger in her head had nearly been enough to drive her to tears. Even then, how could she know if her count was accurate?

No, the only thing she had to measure time by was her meals, each one stolen from the city in the basements of collapsed homes or among the sagging walls of whatever towers still stood. She always waited until she was hungry to eat, because that was the only way she could think of to keep the time in between consistent.

She had eaten five meals since arriving in Canterlot. She didn’t count what she had done upon first arriving, because that, of course, was not a meal. The mushrooms that she sometimes found in damp places weren’t very filling either, but she took some comfort in the process of preparing them.

Not hearing anything else, Twilight returned her attention to the iron pan that she had nestled among the loose bricks of her current sanctuary. She thought that maybe it had been a clothing store, if the color-drained rags hanging from the racks in the main room were any indication. More importantly, part of the ceiling had collapsed over a circular cashier’s booth in the back, creating a small cave accessible by a single crawlspace. Thus it was that Twilight was able to muster the courage to light her horn, cringing at the soft tinkle of her magic, and inject a little more energy into the pan.

It took forever to cook mushrooms at this pace, as she applied heat sparingly and never put in so much energy that they might sizzle. But at the end of it, she could take her time and savor the bland, dry taste of unseasoned, undercooked mushrooms. She relished it.

Don’t lie to yourself, little flower, the Other hissed. It tastes of sand and bleached bones. We cannot live on these stolen scraps.

It tastes amazing, Twilight insisted, glaring up at herself. Perhaps if she forced enough sternness into her gaze, she could convince at least one of the voices in her head.

The Other laughed. Twilight wished that she could laugh, or shout, or even cry without clamping a hoof over her mouth. She desperately needed such release.

Twilight shook her head and looked back to her pan, feeling the air above it with her frog. I’ve cooked mushrooms hundreds of times in my life. It’ll taste fine. If I could just find a little seasoning, it would be better.

Guessing that they were about done, Twilight levitated the shriveled little things out of the pan and began slipping them into her mouth. The heat was good, and her sharp teeth sliced through the tender flesh easily, but the taste was of cardboard. She grit her teeth, resisting the urge to shout in frustration and fling them all into the dust. What was wrong with her?

You know what’s wrong. You need meat.

Never again. Was she getting skinnier? It was hard to tell in the dim light she allowed from her horn, but her legs seemed thinner than before. Perhaps it was just the shadows messing with her head.

The Other allowed her to finish eating in silence, something that she was grateful for. She ate slowly, telling herself that she did it for her health and not because of the taste, and still the food was gone too fast.

Her mind wandered as she cast a small spell to clean the pan of any residue. She wrapped it in thick layers of tattered cloth and tied it to her back with a frayed rope. She had come to Canterlot for solace, and yet her waking moments were dominated by apprehension, doubt, and fear. She always woke up with bags under her eyes and an ache in her hooves.

The rubble groped at her coat with sharp spurs of rock as she crawled out of her refuge and into the dry air of the clothing shop. She refused to travel in the open streets, but they weren’t needed to navigate the shattered urban sprawl of the city. Lavender light, dim as a dying candle, pushed the walls of darkness back as she braced herself to travel once more.

The buildings had lost distinct shape long ago. The ruins all ran together now, forming a network of half-unformed rooms and sunken roofs. She crept through these at a snail’s pace, sending out small pings to ensure that the next room was empty before crawling through, jumping at every distant howl and screech. She had been lucky enough not to cross paths with any changelings yet, and she thanked Celestia for that small fortune.

She should reach the castle today, she was almost certain. What distance had been crossed in harrowing minutes when she fled Canterlot now took infinitely longer, but if her memory was correct then she was now traversing the inner arm of the merchant’s quarter. There would be a brief sprint across open ground through the gardens, and then she would be there.

She wasn’t sure what she would do once she got there. Still, it was a plan.

“Rarity?”

Rarity blinked, looking up from her tea. Fluttershy was eyeing her from across the table with obvious concern. “Oh, I’m sorry, darling. Did you say something?”

“Well, um, Pinkie was asking you about the cookies.” Fluttershy tipped her head to the side, where Pinkie Pie was watching with a goofy grin.

“Oh, yes, of course!” Rarity levitated one of the cookies off the pile in the center of the table and took a bite. She let out a petite hum of appreciation before swallowing. “Delightful as always, Pinkie, dear. I don’t know how you do it.”

Pinkie’s smile grew taut at the edges. “The same way I always do, silly filly!”

Rarity answered with a polite titter even as she mentally chastised herself. “Of course. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

They were in Pinkie’s guest room at the Titus estate, sharing tea and cookies over a small round table while a cool breeze carried the sounds of construction and labor in through the open window. Whereas Rarity and Fluttershy were seated on cushions, Pinkie was sprawled out on her belly in the middle of her bed. Her hind legs were splayed limply behind her, their stillness made all the more eerie by the energetic movements of her front half, and Rarity couldn’t help but steal quick glances at them whenever Pinkie looked away.

But she should have known better than to refer to them so directly. Pinkie had obviously needed help to bake the cookies. Her tail was always flat and dull now, regardless of her mood, and her mane had never quite reached its original vibrancy.

A heavy silence had settled into place over the room. To Rarity’s surprise, it was Fluttershy that broke its hold.

“What’s happened to us, girls?”

Rarity blinked. Pinkie’s smile stretched wider. “What do you mean, ‘Shy?”

“It’s just—I—why don’t I feel anything?” Fluttershy looked down, holding a hoof to her chest, where her heart was hidden. “So many terrible things have happened, and I don’t feel anything. Sh-shouldn’t I be upset?”

“What do you mean, darling?” Rarity leaned forward and touched the pegasus’ trembling hoof.

“It’s s-so much,” Fluttershy whispered. “Rainbow’s eye, Twilight’s mind—” She turned to Rarity and Pinkie in turn. “Your independence, and y-y-your legs. I th-think I’m n-n-next.”

Pinkie’s smile waned. She looked as if she wanted to spring out of bed and rush to Fluttershy’s comfort. “Oh, Shy.”

“I c-c-can’t feel it anymore, girls.” Fluttershy’s shaking grew stronger, sapping the strength from her voice. “I used t-to be so—so scared. So sad. I think m-my heart filled up and broke. I’m s-sorry. I’m s-so sorry.”

Rarity shot out of her seat and rushed to her friend’s side. “Shh, it’s okay. Whatever could you possibly have to apologize for?”

“W-w-we’re all falling apart.” Fluttershy sucked in a breath as she buried her face in Rarity’s shoulder. “I don’t even k-know what’s d-d-doing it. I want to h-help but all I can do is cower and cry, and now I c-can’t even do that right!”

Rarity flinched at the loathing in Fluttershy’s normally demure voice. She ran a hoof through Fluttershy’s mane, whispering small words of comfort. At the same time she lit her horn, grabbing Pinkie’s hind legs in her magic and helping her come to Fluttershy’s side. They passed several minutes like that, sometimes exchanging concerned glances as their friend wept between them. There was nothing they could say to comfort her, and so they consoled her instead with the silent support of their bodies.

Fluttershy’s sobs grew quiet at last. Pinkie gave her a little squeeze before asking, “Are you alright?”

Fluttershy took a deep breath. Her voice was quiet, barely audible, but firm. “I’m a monster.”

“You know that’s not right, darling,” Rarity chided softly. “How could you ever think such a dreadful thing?”

“You don’t understand,” Fluttershy said. “Neither of you do. You face the world, you cry for it, and you only come back stronger.” A heavy sigh rocked her body as she looked up, her mane falling away to reveal the wet trails dripping down her cheeks. “I don’t deserve to be here with you girls.”

Pinkie tightened her grip on the pegasus. “You’re right.”

Fluttershy sucked in a shaky breath. Rarity raised a brow at that, but Pinkie pressed on.

“You don’t deserve to be here,” Pinkie continued. “All the fun and light’s been stolen from the world, and you of all ponies deserve better.”

Rarity realized she was holding her breath. She didn’t quite feel comfortable enough to let it out yet. Careful, Pinkie.

“But we’re all in this together,” Pinkie said. “And I know that I’m happy to have you with us.”

Heavy silence draped over the three mares. Rarity could sense Fluttershy weighing Pinkie’s words from behind her flowing pink mane. She wanted to say something more, but how could she? She dared not even move, lest the slightest mistake nudge her friend past the beckoning threshold of despair.

At last, Fluttershy spoke. It was quiet, barely piercing the silence, but it carried a fragile hope that made Rarity sigh in relief.

“Thank you, girls,” she said, peeking around her mane with the smallest of smiles. “I, um, think I’ll be okay.”

“Woohoo!” With the moment of crisis behind them, Pinkie wasted no time in shouting the silence away. “Now help me back up so we can get back to your tea party!”

“Oh, well, it’s not really, uh, my tea party,” Fluttershy said, blushing as she supported Pinkie back to the bed. “You made the cookies, and Rarity made the tea.”

Sensing her moment to help lighten the mood, Rarity waved the notion away with a melodramatic scoff and flip of her mane. “Nonsense, darling! You’re the one who arranged this little banquet, and it’s you we have to thank.” She added a warm smile. “I think we all needed a break.”

Pinkie, who had already stuffed her muzzle full of cookies, gave an exaggerated nod. “Mmhm!”

Fluttershy didn’t let out the giggle that Rarity had been hoping for, but her smile grew more genuine. As Rarity poured herself more tea, she decided not to push the matter. She would take any victory she could find.

Where Twilight had expected solid rock, her hooves instead swept through open air. Her heart dropped out of her chest as her body swung down into the gap, and she failed to resist the urge to let out a rising shout of alarm. Her back smacked against the ground before she even truly realized she was falling, forcing a grunt of pain from her lungs.

She smacked her hooves over her muzzle so hard that the sting made her flinch. Above her, the Other’s floating face formed into a toothy grin. You’re just adorable sometimes.

Quiet! Twilight remained totally still as she listened to small bits of rubble settle around her. A faint changeling screech echoed in the distance, answered seconds later by others. Was that in relation to her, or just the changelings communicating amongst themselves like normal? If it was possible to tell just from sound, she didn’t know how.

Slowly, cautious not to make more noise, Twilight rolled onto her belly, pushed herself off the ground, and sent out a few pings. No immediate danger jumped out at her, but she was surprised by just how large the room she found herself in was. Peering up with a lit horn, she confirmed that she couldn’t see the ceiling. Her lips pursed in thought.

She had been crawling through the far more confined remains of a fallen tower, and after a sudden drop found herself in a large, unusually intact room. Looking around and pushing a little more magic into her horn, she caught a glimpse of a rotten bedframe. The sheets were faded, but the design was familiar enough to elicit a gasp of recognition. White stars on a pale blue background, with a single line of four ethereal colors running across the top.

Her vision blurred a watery red as she approached the ragged bedsheet and ran a hoof over those four colors. She closed her eyes and rested a cheek against the fabric, yearning for happier times. It hurt to be so close. How could the frayed threads still be so soft when everything else had turned dry and brittle around them? How could only this one part of her home persevere when everything else had died without her? It would have hurt less to find the sheets ripped to shreds.

Crying over bedsheets now? You infuriate me.

Oh, give it a rest. Twilight couldn’t muster the energy for anger, but exasperation was both easy and satisfying. Everything infuriates you.

False. Weakness infuriates me. Weakness within our own body doubly so. I know that you have a strength inside of you, little flower, desperate to get out. I catch glimpses of it when you play at commanding us, when you refuse to let us do as is required to achieve our goals. And there is nothing more infuriating than watching us waste away while that strength cowers behind your foalish ideals!

Twilight blinked. When she pulled her head off the old bed, ignoring the red stains where her tears had fallen, she saw the Other leering down at her in barely restrained fury.

Our goals?

Have I ever sought anything less? The Other chose to let her mouth move with her voice, and it made her spite abundantly clear. Have I ever done anything but attempt to protect our allies? To destroy our foes? I know where I stand, little flower, but you restrain me with your hesitation. I hate it.

Twilight shook her head as she turned away from the bed. We’re in the castle now. I need to find the Archives. Feeling more comfortable within the castle walls, Twilight used her hornlight to find a door to the hall. After a quick spell to oil the hinges and a brief application of force, it swung open in silence. The Other was waiting for her on the other side.

Ah, denial! Your other despicable half shows itself. For in those brief moments where you aren’t refusing to do what is necessary, you instead insist that there is nothing to do at all!

Twilight grit her teeth as she stalked deeper into the castle in search of a landmark to get her bearings by. You’re my despicable other half.

Your attempts at wit don’t make your lies any more seductive, foal. You know I speak the truth. What purpose does it serve for one of our nature to insist on this self-inflicted ignorance?

A familiar intersection appeared from the darkness, and Twilight took the rightmost path. If that was what remained of the crest of the First Guards, then that meant that the castle barracks were to the left, and that meant—

Twilight licked her lips. Her hooves pushed her faster. The Other haunted the corners of her vision.

It’s almost impressive, from a certain perspective! You pride yourself on reason, and yet you avoid it at all costs if it breaks your fallacious reality. How many times have I stopped you from driving us to destruction, blinded by your refusal to accept the real? I would ask how you sleep at nights, but I already know you rarely do.

Here the wall had collapsed into a pile of bricks on one side. The shattered corpses of two wooden doors could just be seen jutting out from the rubble, displaced from their proper place by the weight of the stone. Twilight frowned as she sent a ping out and failed to find a way past the collapsed doorway. Teleporting past it would be trivial even in her current state, but the pop of a teleportation spell could travel a long way in the ruins of Canterlot, and who could know what creature might be enticed by the unusual noise?

She glanced up and down the hall and considered looking for an alternate route. She might be able to find another way in, unobstructed by rubble, that would make less noise. She had a decent idea of the servant paths, and if those were blocked off then she could try going up a level to see if the ceiling had fallen in. Or—

With a flash of anger, the Other surged inside her, coiling her magic around its dark claws. A red-tinged flash of purple overtook her and, with a loud pop, Twilight found herself inside the royal kitchens of Canterlot Castle.

The Other was waiting inside with a bloody sneer. Is it so much to ask for even one display of confidence?

“Wha—” A shiver ran down Twilight’s spine as she wrested control of her magic back. Heat blossomed in her breast as she marched up to the Other with fire in her voice. “Don’t do that!”

Why not? it jeered. You would have just wasted our time trying to satisfy your feeble anxieties.

Twilight let out a loud, sharp laugh. “Waste time? Look around! We have nothing but time!”

No, we do not! The Other snapped its fangs in her face with the words, causing her to flinch back from the rancid stench of its breath. Despite your clever ignorance, we are starving! You may be able to delude yourself into crawling through this old castle searching for backdoors while our body wastes away, but I. Am. Hungry!

Twilight hesitated. Was that desperation she heard? “How? You don’t have a body.”

We share a body, you foal! the Other spat. We share a single hunger, a single thirst, and a single pain! And if you don’t stop lying to yourself long enough to accept that we’re starving, then we will both die!

Twilight looked away. She tried to keep her voice firm. “I know that we’re hungry! Why do you think I brought us here?”

The Other spoke slowly, each word dripping with venom. You brought us to a pony kitchen! We need fresh meat, not dry flowers nested in stale bread!

“Y-you’re wrong,” Twilight said. She lit her horn bright, illuminating the dusty cupboards, broken jars, and battered pots of the kitchen that once fed her and so many others. “I just need to find something more nutritional, and a better way to cook it.”

The Other didn’t answer her with words so much as a guttural scream.

Twilight ignored it. She had gotten very good at ignoring things in the past few days.

“Please wait in here. Mr. Rich will be along to see you shortly.”

“Wait, what?” Rainbow asked. She stopped in the threshold of the open door as Applejack and Sea Sabre walked through it, tuning to face the brightly clad servant directly. “I thought we were going to see him right now?”

The servant gave a slight shake of her head with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Rich is entertaining company right now. He’s been looking forwards to speaking with you, though, and will join you as soon as he can! Is there anything I can get you in the meantime?”

Rainbow flicked her tail irritably, stepping into the room. “Whatever, it’s fine.”

Applejack faced the mare properly before tipping her hat with a sincere smile. “Don’t mind her, sugar cube. We’ll sit tight.”

“We apologize for the inconvenience!” With a small curtsey, the servant shut the door behind them. Her hoofsteps faded into the distance.

The room was like many of the others that could be found within the Rich Estate, which was to say that it was too large to take in with one eye, offensively colorful, and mostly occupied by odd furniture and art. Soft orchestral music drifted around the room from an unseen source. Sounds like something Twilight would like.

“I can’t believe he’s blowing us off like this!” Rainbow groaned. “We had an appointment!”

“Y’all ain’t never missed an appointment, Rainbow?” Applejack joked. Rainbow shot her a glare, and she held her hooves up placatingly. “Calm down, filly. I’m sure he’ll come see us soon enough.”

Sea Sabre marched over to the bookshelves that lined one of the walls, grabbed a small book, and made herself comfortable in the cushioned nook of a wing-shaped sofa. “He’ll see us when he’s ready.”

Rainbow snorted. “And when’s that, huh?”

Sabre didn’t look up from her book, but she did give a quick shrug. “When he gets bored of his current company, or when his scheduler annoys him enough. Whichever comes first.”

“Great.” With a heavy sigh, Rainbow flapped her wings and dropped her flank into a plush seat shaped like an upturned velvet hoof. Applejack spent a few seconds leering at the third and only remaining seat in the room, a wide circular sofa with a curved central backrest modeled after a large, squat unicorn’s horn, before opting to just lean against the wall and pull her hat over her eyes.

Rainbow didn’t understand how other ponies could be so comfortable with anything as pointless as waiting. She considered herself a mare of action. Whatever the endeavor, whether it be a physical feat to perform, a new skill to master, or a rival to best, she took comfort in the application of effort. She used to always know where she stood. She was Rainbow Dash, pegasus extraordinaire, future greatest Wonderbolt in history, the mare who could do anything.

Yet it seemed that all she could do in the future, when ponies needed her more than ever, was wait. She had spent every dive on the sidelines listening to Twilight confront monsters and watching Applejack learn to load torpedoes and make repairs. She had needed rescuing from Gava, and the monster possessing Twilight hadn’t even spared her a glance when it swatted her away back on Altalusia. The days of travel aboard the Argo were made easier with her daily practice sessions with Sea Sabre, but now that she had finally arrived at Heighton and was given a chance to do something, she was forced to wait.

She flicked a glance Applejack’s way. How does she do it? How could the cowpony close her eyes and sit still when Twilight needed their help? Rainbow scanned the room for a clock, but all she saw was art on the walls. She began to tap a hoof. Maybe she should just go find Twilight herself. She could get to Canterlot with a couple hours of flying, and Sabre would probably let her borrow some dive gear. She could have Twilight back in Heighton before the sun rose tomorrow. Maybe then she’d be able to get a full night’s sleep.

Don’t be stupid, Rainbow. Splitting up even more is the last thing you all need.

Rainbow began chewing her bottom lip. She wouldn’t be a slave to her impulses, but she had to do something. So she settled for the thing that had kept her sane in similar situations before: griping.

“Ugh, how much longer?” She asked.

Applejack peeked out from under the brim of her hat. “Y’all know we ain’t got any clue more than y’all do, right?”

“And I’m sure you know that we don’t have time to be waiting on pansy rich ponies that don’t keep appointments!” Rainbow snapped. “We’ve been here forever!”

“It’s been ten minutes,” Sea Sabre said. She had been sitting almost as still as a statue for that entire time, her flank cushioned among the soft velvet of one of several thick sofas arranged around the room.

“Might as well be ten days,” Rainbow grumbled.

Applejack was watching her with a thoughtful look. It was a look that Rainbow knew well, and she looked away in the hopes that her old friend would be able to take a hint. No luck. Applejack pushed off of the wall and sat down at Rainbow’s side, completely ignoring the lack of space on the little seat.

“How ya feelin’?”

“I’m fine, AJ.”

“Oh, yeah? Guess that’s why y’all’ve been pacin’ around the ceiling like a junebug who can’t find a window?”

Rainbow cocked her head, turning to face her friend. “I’ve been sitting right here the whole time.”

Applejack nodded as if that was exactly what she just said. “And you’ve been bouncin’ yer hooves and twitchin’ yer wings, too, but I ain’t talkin’ bout just today.”

Rainbow didn’t bother to try hiding her eye roll. Her ears twitched at the sound of hooves passing out in the hall as she took a sudden interest in Sea Sabre’s book. Narrowing her eye, she could just make out the title. Myths of the Wildlands.

“C’mon, sugar cube. Look at me, will ya?”

What was the author’s name? It was too small for her to read. A part of her wondered if she would have been able to read it if she still had both eyes, and she couldn’t help but flick her tail at the remembered image of a sneering Gava standing over her, framed in red. Her wings shifted as she imagined the weight of her blades resting against their feathers. She’ll get what’s coming to her. I’ll make sure of it next time.

“Rainbow Dash.”

“Would you give it a rest, already?” There wasn’t much room to spare with two ponies on the little seat, but Rainbow found some to scoot into anyways. “I don’t want to talk.”

“So y’all keep tellin’ me, but guess what?” A coarse-furred orange hoof grabbed Rainbow’s cheek and pulled her face-to-face with Applejack, drawing an irate growl from the pegasus. “I don’t care. Last time I had a friend actin’ all strange, she would always tell me she didn’t want to talk. Guess where she’s at now?”

Rainbow already had her mouth open for a biting retort, but the words took the heat out of her fire. She pulled her muzzle out of Applejack’s grip and looked away anyways. “That’s not gonna happen to me, AJ. Magic’s got nothing to do with my issue.”

Too late, Rainbow realized her mistake. She could practically hear the grin on Applejack’s face. “Oh, so ya admit y’all got an issue, then?”

Rainbow threw her hooves up in exasperation. “Fine! Whatever. Point is, I’m not gonna go crazy and jump into the ocean or anything like that. So I’m fine.”

“There’s more to bein’ fine than not gettin’ possessed by magical critters,” Applejack said. “And I sure as hay ain’t lookin’ to learn the same friendship lesson twice, so I’m not droppin’ this until y’all talk to me. So talk!”

Rainbow blew a loud raspberry. She smirked as she saw Sea Sabre briefly shake her head at her book. “Okay, why don’t we bet on it?” Rainbow turned to face Applejack, stretching the smirk into a cocksure grin. “If you can beat me in a race, then I’ll talk. If I win, you have to leave me alone.”

“Rainbow Dash, I am not gonna race you through the halls when we’re both somebody’s guest!” Applejack let out an exasperated sigh. “Let’s just do a hoof wrestle, and we’re on.”

Rainbow tossed her mane. “I want to race.”

“What, ya don’t think ya can beat me in a simple contest of strength?” Applejack asked. “Nah, I get it. I’m a pretty strong mare. I guess if a race is what you want…” She stood up, beginning to stretch her hind legs.

Rainbow grit her teeth. She couldn’t just turn down a clear challenge to her strength like that, and Applejack knew it. “Fine, hoof wrestle! Pony up!”

Without another word, the two mares scooted off of the tiny hoof-shaped chair, turned around, and squared off. Rainbow made a show of flaring her wings, taking to the air to stretch her forelegs out before couching one elbow in the soft cushioning of the hoof chair. Applejack didn’t stretch, but she did give a small chuckle and pull her hat back before locking fetlocks with her opponent.

Rainbow had made sure to arrange herself so that she could see Sea Sabre in the corner of her right eye, and she smirked as she saw the laconic pegasus put her book down and begin to watch with a benign expression. “You ready to get beat, AJ?”

Applejack blew a lock of mane out of her face. “Filly, I ain’t here to put on a show.”

Rainbow snorted. “Three, two, one, go!”

In an instant, Rainbow’s world narrowed down to just her and her opponent. She clenched her jaw as she tried and failed to hold in a groan of effort, her foreleg shaking with the strain of holding back defeat. Her shoulder began to ache, and she spared a moment to make eye contact with Applejack and offer up a cocky grin. The cowpony responded with a forced smirk.

Rainbow winced as the pain in her shoulder flared up, and Applejack seized the opportunity. Rainbow could only watch as her hoof was forced to the side and down into the soft folds of the seat.

Applejack reared up with a whoop of celebration. “That’s a wrap, sugar cube! Y’all owe me a heart-to-heart!”

Rainbow stuck her tongue out in disgust as she climbed back to her hooves. “Blegh, fine. Whatever.”

Her ears flicked at the sound of the doors opening behind her, and she turned around to see Crazy Rich walk into the room, wearing a set of clashingly colorful robes with a beaming smile.

“Ah, Sabre, welcome back!” He turned his gaze onto Rainbow and Applejack, absent of any glimmer of recognition. “And my guests from the past, as well!”

Rainbow flicked her tail. “You don’t remember our names?”

Crazy let out an amiable chuckle at just the perfect pitch to curl Rainbow’s lip back. “You’ll have to accept my apologies, my friends, but I have many names to remember, and it’s been over a month since our introduction! Tell me, Sabre, how’s your crew?”

To the untrained observer, Sea Sabre rarely displayed any emotions besides sternness, disappointment, and the rare glimpse of approval. But to Rainbow’s more seasoned eye, she could see the sign of irritation in how one of her ears angled ever so slightly. “I sent you reports.”

“Yes, of course!” Crazy’s smile held firm as he sat on the horn-motif chair that Applejack had been using before the hoof wrestle. “Aura would summarize them for me from time to time. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to read your latest letter. Perhaps you could fill me in?” He paused, glancing around. “Is Miss Sparkle here? I had been expecting to speak to her.”

“Well, too bad!” Rainbow snapped, drawing a startled gasp from the earth stallion. She glanced towards Applejack, expecting chastisement, but her friend only gave a curt nod. “Twilight’s gone, and that’s why we’re here!”

“Gone?” Crazy repeated. He looked to Sabre with detached curiosity. “What happened?”

“We’re not clear on the nature of the incident,” Sabre droned. “Current theory is an advanced case of depth corruption.” She paused, as if weighing her words. “We suspect that she may have transformed into a newborn wyrd.”

“Hold up,” Applejack said. “What in tarnation is a wyrd?”

“Sort of a catch-all term,” Sabre explained. “Divers use it to describe the type of magically potent, violent creatures that dominate everything under the surface. I’ve never heard of a pony becoming one outside of sailor gossip, but—well, Twilight is an extremely powerful unicorn, and far from normal.”

Rainbow stomped a hoof, but the thick rug somewhat dampened the impact. She tried to make up for it with her voice. “She’s not a monster! She just needs our help!”

Crazy looked between the three mares in turn before turning back to Sea Sabre, who gave a curt shake of her head. “We have reason to suspect that Twilight fled back to Old Canterlot. Her friends wanted to pursue, but I respectfully advise against sending my team back to a site we barely escaped from with our lives previously.”

Rainbow glared daggers at the side of Sabre’s head. She stomped up to her mentor, fur bristling, speaking in a barely restrained hiss through clenched teeth. “Whose side are you on?”

Sabre kept her eyes on her employer. “My team’s side. Always.”

“You—how—” Rainbow’s attempts at speech devolved into a low growl. Her whole body began to shake, her jaw clenched so hard that it hurt. How could Sabre be so calm? How could she talk about Twilight that way without even blinking an eye? There were times where Rainbow had admired her stoicism, but at that moment she wanted nothing more than to tackle the other pegasus and pummel her until she was forced to display an equine emotion.

A hoof tugged on her shoulder, but Rainbow smacked it aside. Applejack’s soft voice whispered into her ear. “I know y’all’re upset, sugar cube, and I am too, but we ain’t gonna catch any flies with vinegar.”

Rainbow rounded on her with a fresh surge of anger. “Would you quit with the stupid countryisms?” she hissed. “Twilight’s out there, and she needs us, and I don’t have anything but vinegar right now and—ugh, you’ve got me using them now, too!”

Crazy Rich, to his credit, at least seemed to have the decency to look anxious when he spoke. “I’m sorry, friends, but if Sabre says that it’s too dangerous, then I have to take her advice into consideration. Maybe we could meet again after I’ve had some time and—”

“No!” Rainbow was in front of Crazy so fast that the stallion tripped over his robes and fell onto his flank with a cry of shock. She jabbed a hoof into his chest, hard. “No rescheduling! You decide right now! I’m not! Waiting! Another! Second!”

“Rainbow Dash!” Rainbow kept her gaze fixed on Crazy’s as Applejack pulled her back. “Beatin’ on him ain’t gonna change his mind!”

“It will if I beat hard enough!” Rainbow’s wings pumped against her sides as she struggled to escape the farmpony’s iron grip.

Crazy Rich scrambled backwards, voice shaking. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Sabre, I’ll have Aura schedule another—”

“Luna!” Rainbow shouted, cutting him off. “We have Princess Luna!”

Crazy paused halfway to the door. Seconds passed in silence before he tore his frightened gaze from Rainbow’s and looked to Sabre. “You found an alicorn?”

There was the ear twitch again. “It’s in my reports.”

Rainbow just barely held back a scream of frustration, drawing Crazy’s attention back. “Talk to me, not her!”

Crazy’s eyes darted between the two pegasi, one the very image of stoicism and the other still fighting to escape Applejack’s hold. Tentatively, he picked himself up off the ground. “Well, that’s, uh, fantastic.” He licked his lips, speaking with obvious care as he took slow steps backwards. “I would c-certainly love to speak with her.”

Rainbow Dash could see the path before her now. Her desperate anger dimmed, giving way to intense focus. “Let go, AJ. I’ve got this.”

“Y’all ain’t gonna go crazy again?” Applejack didn’t bother to hide her skepticism.

“No, no. I’m good. Thanks.”

“Don’t make me regret this, ya hear?”

Slowly, Applejack relinquished her grip. Rainbow advanced on Crazy, keeping her pace at a measured walk. He seemed to have trouble holding eye contact with her.

“Do you remember Fluttershy, Crazy?” she asked. His mouth stammered open, but no words came out, so Rainbow kept going. “She’s the other pegasus, remember? She was in a magical coma when we arrived, and Twilight found a way to wake her up.”

Crazy’s back bumped up against the door. To his credit, he didn’t reach for the handle. “I r-remember.”

“Luna’s in the same kind of coma,” Rainbow said, almost coming close enough to bump muzzles before stopping. It wasn’t exactly a lie, as Rainbow figured that magic comas must all be more or less the same. She was aware of her lack of magical know-how. Either way, she would have told any lie she needed to if it would help her save Twilight. “Twilight’s the only one that can wake her up. Get it?”

“Ah. Yes.” Crazy stole a glance towards Sea Sabre. “I see.”

Rainbow stepped in the way, angling her head to keep her one eye in front of his. “Don’t you want to be the pony who introduces a living Princess Luna back to the world, Crazy?”

The conflict in his eyes was obvious so close up. He flicked his gaze past her to Sea Sabre, then back, and then between them several more times.

“Okay,” he said. “Do it, Sabre. Find Twilight and bring back Luna.”

Rainbow let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding as a cold wave of relief washed over her. She stepped back, folding her flared wings back against her sides, and gave Crazy a little smile. “Thank you.”

Sea Sabre’s voice came from behind her. “Respectfully, sir, that’s an extremely dangerous assignment. I’m not comfortable sending my team in there as we are now.”

Now that Rainbow had vacated his personal space, Crazy’s confidence seemed to be coming back to him. He straightened out his robes with a hoof and put on a smile that sat somewhere between excitement and apprehension. “I understand, Sabre. I’ll be sure to raise your budget accordingly, of course!” He knocked a hind hoof against the door behind him, and it opened to reveal a trio of servants waiting with bright smiles. “I trust you’ll do what you need to do. Just make sure to let me know ahead of your return so I can make proper preparations to welcome a living Princess!”

He dipped his head to Rainbow Dash and Applejack in turn, all signs of nervousness having been replaced by his usual energy. “Good luck, all!”

He stepped out of the room, and one of the servants shut the door behind him. Sea Sabre let out a small grunt.

Rainbow turned around, meeting Sabre’s stern gaze with one that she hoped was equally hard. “I’m sorry, Sabre, but I can’t just leave my friend hanging.”

Sabre’s wings twitched. She was already walking for the door. “We’re doubling our training. Usual time, in the yard.”

She didn’t wait for a response before marching out into the hall and closing the door behind her. Rainbow heaved a deep sigh and looked to Applejack with a weak smile. “Did I go too far?”

“Tarnation, Rainbow,” Applejack said. “Y’all got some hellfire in ya.”

“Heh, yeah.” Rainbow turned to the door, grimacing as she listened to Sea Sabre’s measured hoofsteps fade away. “And I think Sabre might be planning on showing me hers.”

Once again, the Other said, I must admit an appreciation for the sheer tenacity of your foalishness.

“Shut up,” Twilight hissed. She kept her eyes fixed on the mushroom patties, checking them, the old pan cradling it, and the fire underneath once again. “It’s almost done.”

The kitchen of Canterlot Castle’s west wing was completely sealed off by rubble. Twilight knew this because she had checked it herself, with all the usual thoroughness she prided herself on, and so she had decided that it would be safe to cook with a real fire. The stoves were broken, of course, but most of the cooking utensils had survived thanks to preservative spells placed on them centuries ago. It was cozy, almost, with the warm light of the fire and the heat trapped by the surrounding stone. If not for the Other’s steady mockery and the growing sense of desperation, Twilight might even have been able to relax.

But she could not relax. Dozens of cooking books were arranged around the kitchen, fetched on expeditions to the archives and then organized by author, style, and scope, but that had been at least two wakings ago. The order had since given way to chaos as Twilight had systematically worked through each book, trying the advice contained within, before discarding it as worthless. The bright colors and friendly pictures of Filly’s First Fried Foods now sat side-by-side with the strict, tiny-font methodology of Advanced Cooking Theory, Ninth Edition, and so it was for countless others.

No matter how hard Twilight looked, she could not find a good cookbook. Every instruction set led to that same ashen taste and the same scorn from the sinister voice in her head, and she was beginning to wonder if she had gone mad. Surely the castle would have at least one text on cooking with usable knowledge? But no, they didn’t. Twilight knew this, because if it did, then she would be able to make a mushroom patty taste like food.

She was running out of options. Before her now was the last book she had taken from the archive, which she had grabbed only in a bid to appease the Other: The Carnivore’s Cookbook, Equestrian Edition by Gustave le Grande. It included vegetarian recipes designed to satisfy a carnivore’s taste, as well as some traditional griffon dishes for the more adventurous pony. Twilight didn’t consider herself adventurous, and so she had skipped past those. She didn’t eat meat, after all.

And yet here we are, working from a tome written to satisfy carnivores.

“It’s probably just as bad as all the others,” Twilight muttered. Was it time yet? She had cast a spell to alert her when the proper time had passed, but maybe she had missed it. “There’s no reason to expect this book to be any better than the rest.”

The Other stepped into sight on the other side of the cooking fire. The light cast long shadows over its face. Your books aren’t the problem, little flower.

“No, they have to be the problem,” Twilight insisted. “I don’t know what else it could be.”

The alarm spell went off, and Twilight levitated the pan off the fire, sliding the mushrooms onto a ceramic plate decorated with suns and moons. She took a deep breath to draw in the scent. Her mouth didn’t water as she had hoped.

Her ivory fork and sapphire-encrusted knife shook in the grip of her levitation as she cut a bite-sized piece free. She lifted the fork to her open mouth, but couldn’t bring herself to bite. Perhaps it would be better to just go find more books. She didn’t eat meat. Monsters ate meat. Why was she even trying this?

The Other took control, levitating the fork fully into her mouth. She bit down almost without thinking, wincing at the bitter, familiar taste.

Red tears welled in her eyes even before she swallowed. The pan fell to the ground with a clatter loud enough to make her wince. “I don’t understand. I’ve tried every spice in the castle and it all tastes the same! What am I doing wrong?”

You know what’s wrong. The Other leered down at her with an imperious frown. It’s just a matter of acceptance.

“No. No, no, no.” Twilight fell onto her side. It can’t be right. Can it? She felt so weak. “It’s not. I can’t. Not again.”

Do you want to die? Is that what it is? The Other shook its head and snorted. No, I know that you wish to live, despite your many attempts to foil our continued survival. So why will you not do what is required to sustain us?

“You’re wrong,” Twilight whispered, and this time she wasn’t so sure if she believed it. “There’s another way.”

The Other’s lip curled back, revealing bloody fangs underneath that glistened in the flickering firelight. No, there very much isn’t. Have you already forgotten our arrival in these wretched ruins? It was meat that saved us then, and it is meat that will save us now.

“I still regret that moment.” Twilight pulled her hooves tight around herself as she shivered. “It was a mistake. The mushrooms here are edible.”

Yes, we know that now, but ultimately it doesn’t matter. A sinister smile graced the Other’s face. The transformation would have happened eventually, little flower. It was always just a matter of time.

Twilight rolled onto her back, shaking her head at the ceiling. “No, I could have—I should have held you back. And I’m not letting you trick me again. I don’t need meat. I won’t let you turn me into a monster.”

What does it mean to be a monster?

Twilight frowned. She looked to the Other, who had taken up a position directly on top of the cooking fire. The glowing embers framed its face in a soft orange. “A monster is… a villain. A bad pony.”

The Other laughed. Defining one word with another? We know better than that.

Twilight flicked her tail, but she knew it was right. She rolled onto her belly and looked down at her hooves, deep in thought.

Let me help you. The Other leaned in close, whispering directly into her ear. Are all griffons monsters?

Twilight’s brow furrowed. “Gava is a monster.”

Not what I asked. The Other had moved to her other ear. It spoke slowly. Deliberately. We’ve met griffons besides her. Were they monsters?

Twilight’s eyes widened as she turned to face her doppelganger’s grinning face. Its smile somehow grew even wider.

Your memories are my own, yes. It’s hazy, but I remember another griffon, long before. What was her name? Gilda? Haughty and bullish, perhaps, but was she a monster?

Twilight bit her lip. “No.”

And did Gilda eat meat?

With a sigh, “Like all griffons, yes.”

The Other hummed with exaggerated thoughtfulness as it sat down in front of her. Gilda the griffon ate meat, and she was not a monster. So we know that eating meat isn’t what makes a monster, don’t we?

“It’s different,” Twilight insisted, looking away. “I’m a pony.”

The Other didn’t care where she looked. It remained in the center of her vision, even visible when she blinked, as it curled its lip back. We are no mere pony.

“You’re wrong!” Twilight hissed, and a violent shiver wracked her body. “I’m a pony!”

The normal pony doesn’t have sharp teeth, nor does it cry blood. Red tears began to run down the Other’s cheeks as it opened its mouth to display its fangs. They are fragile creatures, and prone to breakage. We are a thing beyond them—greater than them! Though not yet by very far.

“I’m a pony,” Twilight repeated. “If I’m not a pony, then I’m a monster.” She sucked in a shaky breath and forced her words out through clenched teeth. “I’m not a monster!”

Do you really think it’s so simple? You are blooming into something more, my delicate little flower, the Other whispered. We are no more a monster than the griffon who hunts for survival. Won’t you embrace it with me? Let us soar to new heights, and together we can recreate Equestria as it is meant to be. We can make it right again.

The Other’s voice turned cold. Or you can reject us. We will starve down here as you stuff us with foraged plant matter cooked to perfection, and Equestria will truly be lost, all due to your dull insistence on eating only one specific kind of dead thing. Unfortunately, the choice is all yours.

Twilight just shook her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, falling onto her side and curling up into a ball. Her heart pounded in her ears like a giant drum, drowning out her thoughts, and her voice began to crack between whimpering sobs. “I d-d-don’t want to! I—why w-won’t you just let me b-be a pony?”

Hush, now, little one, the Other cooed. Twilight stiffened, going quiet with a shuddering gasp, as she felt the chill of its body wrapping around her and the cold tickle of its breath against her ear. We will always be a pony, my dear blossom, but a pony greater than any before us. Evolution is a thing to be celebrated, is it not?

Seconds passed in agonizing silence. Gradually, Twilight’s heart began to slow down. She opened her eyes as the quiet cackling of the fire droned in the background. She was a pony. She would always be a pony. Thestrals ate meat and had fangs, but they were still ponies, weren’t they? And yet— “I don’t want to be special.”

It is not a choice. You are special, and you always have been. Do you think your dear Princess chose you without thought?

“No.” For the first time in recent memory, Twilight was able to say something without doubt.

The Other cocked its head. Then why?

The question hung in the air for a long, heavy moment. Twilight opened her mouth to speak several times, only to close it without a sound. Why had the Princess chosen her? As a filly she had assumed that she had been picked for her magical ability, but the idea seemed so naive once she got older. Magical prodigies were born once every few generations, and Celestia had never taken any of them on as personal students.

And so as Twilight got older she had decided that the Princess must have had some purpose for her, some unseen plan, and that it would all be explained to her once the time had finally come. When she met her friends and rediscovered the Elements of Harmony, she felt as if that purpose had become clear.

But what if that wasn’t it? What if when the time had come, Twilight wasn’t there to fulfill it?

Twilight licked her dry lips. She climbed up to a sitting position, holding her legs close. “I… need some time to think.”

The Other, unseen, answered her with an amused hum. Take all the time you need.

Twilight could feel its presence recede into the back of her mind. It was watching as it always did, yes, but from a distance. For a moment she simply sat there, suspecting some ploy, but it seemed the Other truly was giving her some space to think. She had been granted a sense of privacy that she had been beginning to think she would never experience again.

With a heavy sigh, Twilight stared into the smoldering fire and let her mind drift. She thought of her home, of Owloysius floating in a waterlogged library, surrounded by tattered books, blood, and the mangled corpses of the ponies he had killed. She thought of her parents and her brother and her neighbors and her old friends from Canterlot. She remembered Lily Quick’s journal, and the dead mare’s account of the ponies being swept away by waves strong enough to demolish buildings. Ever since she first woke up in the nightmare ruins of Canterlot, every day seemed to bring with it a new loss, or knowledge of an old one she hadn’t even been aware of.

Would she ever be able to bury her parents? Would she even recognize them if she found the bodies, or would she just gingerly step past as she had with every other skeleton she had seen in the past three weeks? Had they wondered the same things about her when they were still alive, or had they held out some hope that she would somehow save them all?

She shook her head, dislodging the distracting thoughts. Guilt was always lingering in the back of her mind, and she could contemplate it at any time. Right now she needed to confront the question that had haunted her ever since she tore a chunk of dry meat off the corpse of a changeling with her bare teeth. The memory made bile rise in the back of her throat even as her mouth watered. Was she a monster?

The crackle of the fire brought her back to old lessons received in the very same castle, back when it was warm and bright and full of life. She remembered when a delegation of griffons had arrived for dinner, and Princess Celestia had had her cooks arrange a feast of meats in their honor—chicken, duck, fish, and pig. Twilight had cried when she saw all the bodies splayed across the massive dining table, dressed in fragrant spices, but the Princess had been quick to take her aside and calm her down.

“There’s no need to be afraid of carnivores, Twilight,” the Princess had said, wearing the same kind smile she always did when it was just the two of them, away from all the courtiers, bureaucrats, and reporters. “Every life ends one day, and they help the bodies return to nature once the spirit moves on.”

“But what if the animals don’t want to die?” Twilight had asked. “Doesn’t it hurt them? What if they want to eat me?”

“Oh, my dear little pony.” Celestia had pulled her into a tight hug to quiet her sobs. “Every animal on that table died naturally after long, happy lives. Carnivores aren’t monsters. They’re just another beautiful part of the harmony of our world.”

And so Twilight had dried her tears, straightened out her dress—with some help from the Princess—and returned to dinner. She still couldn’t bring herself to look at the griffons eating, but she didn’t cry and she didn’t have any nightmares afterwards of being hunted by hungry diplomats. As she grew older, she had grown more comfortable with the concept of carnivore diets, until eventually she could exchange formalities with visiting griffons over dinner without a second thought. Because carnivores weren’t monsters. They were just… another part.

But could Twilight bring herself to join them? Changelings howled in the distance, their shrieks muffled by the heavy stones of the castle, and she couldn’t help but shiver at the sound. She was a unicorn, and even if carnivores were natural, she didn’t eat meat. It simply wasn’t done.

Then again, that changeling she had scavenged hadn’t suffered any more because of her. The sound of death had become a regular occurence in the wake of Canterlot’s passing, and hadn’t she always taken a certain pride in discarding old ideas when new information came to light?

Another memory came to her, of a conversation over tea in the once-verdant gardens that surrounded the castle. Celestia had been sending Twilight on some errand, and Twilight had been anxious as always about the prospect of failure. She didn’t remember what the task had been anymore, but she did remember her mentor’s kind smile, and the soft words she had spoken.

“You’ve never failed me, Twilight,” she had said as she lowered her cup back to the table. “That’s why you’re my most faithful student.”

Twilight blinked. There was no wind in the ruins of Canterlot, and so her world was deathly silent. The embers of what was once her cooking fire were beginning to dim. How long had she been lost in thought?

Celestia’s voice echoed in her head. “My most faithful student.”

Twilight had failed her mentor one too many times already. Would she really doom herself, doom Equestria, over her own stubborn ideals? Just because I need meat doesn’t mean I’m not a pony anymore. As long as I don’t hurt anybody, I’m not a monster.

The Other was right, as much as she hated it. Formative years spent carefully training rational thought had cursed her with a scholar’s mind, and so with one theory discarded she brought up a new one: she was not a monster. She was a pony who ate meat. If she didn’t obtain it, then the last hopes of Equestria would die with her trapped within this ancient crypt.

She made her choice.

Her stomach growled, yet she felt as if one of several great weights had been lifted from her withers. She looked up with tentative relief and met eyes with the Other, watching silently from across the room.

“You’re right,” she breathed. “I need meat.”

The Other smiled, revealing bloody fangs.

Author's Notes:

At the bottom of the ocean, something is born. Is it a monster, or is it something new?

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III: Of Others

“Rarity? Rares! Yoohoo, anybody in there?”

Rarity jumped as a pink hoof waved in front of her face. “Oh, what? Did you need anything, Pinkie?”

“Do I need anything?” Pinkie let out a quick gigglesnort. “That’s really, really nice of you, Rarity, but you know you can’t fool me, right?”

Rarity grimaced. She looked back to herself, reflected in three pony-sized mirrors all trimmed in polished silver, and felt her knees go weak again.

She was wearing a dress, and if you had asked her about it any other day then she would have said that it was designed by a pony who knew what she was doing. It was a pale white thing, adorned with many layers of wispy veils along the flanks and fetlocks, and she could tell that the seamstress had put great effort into its creation just from the feel of the soft fabric against her coat.

Was it beautiful? All she knew was that it filled her with a slimy revulsion she’d never felt before. Her hooves twitched as she imagined ripping it from her body in shreds, throwing the tattered silk into a fire, and then stomping on the ashes until the wind carried it all far, far away. She felt guilty fantasizing about destroying something that another dressmaker had clearly put so much effort into, but she couldn’t help herself.

She had always dreamed of wearing something of her own creation for her wedding, after all, and she had always pictured herself marrying a stallion she loved.

Rarity licked her lips before giving Pinkie a shaky nod. “I’ll survive, darling.”

There was a knock at the door, and Rarity glanced back to see Whitehorn poking his head into the little dressing tent. “Are we ready to begin, ladies?”

“Goodness,” Rarity breathed, fussing with her mane. “Is it that time already?”

“I’m afraid so.” He came fully into the room, displaying the long-tailed, pale blue suit he wore. “You should get to the steps, Pinkie. Fluttershy is already there.”

“Oh, right! Good luck, Rare-bear!” With one last wide, beaming smile, Pinkie Pie turned for the door. The wheels strapped to her sides squealed in complaint as she zipped out of the tent, leaving the flaps to flutter in her wake.

Whitehorn turned to face Rarity with a wan smile. “You look beautiful as ever, my Lady, though I’m sure you already knew that.”

“I don’t feel beautiful.” Rarity heaved a sigh. “You know, I spent many years as a filly imagining how this day would come. I dreamed of being wed in a great hall in Canterlot, to a chivalrous prince at the end of a long, romantic courtship.” She paused, tugging at her sleeves. “And I was supposed to make my own dress.”

“It’s still not too late to call it off, you know,” Whitehorn said. He stepped forwards, offering a hoof, and she allowed him to help her down off the little stool she had been standing on.

“Not too late?” Rarity scoffed. “There’re hundreds of villagers waiting out there for me, a half-dozen noble witnesses from around the island and, most significantly of all, five prisoners watching from the dungeon tower, no doubt praying to Celestia this very second that I don’t disappear and leave them to their deaths!” She became worked up as she spoke, and she chided herself for the unladylike display as she straightened her mane.

Whitehorn dipped his head, acknowledging her words. “All true, and still, nobody would blame you.”

Rarity pursed her lips. “I would.”

A silence hung between the two, disturbed only by the excited chatter of the crowd outside. After several seconds, Whitehorn cleared his throat. “Shall we?”

With one last glance in the mirror, Rarity took Whitehorn’s hoof and allowed him to guide her out of the tent. In the absence of any real paternal figure to give her over to Pontius, she had chosen the cordial stallion to do the honors. Her tent was only a short distance outside of the freshly replaced gate of the manor lawn, and so it only took them a few seconds to pass the arched stone threshold and enter the garden proper.

Although most of the bushes and trees had already been replaced, Rarity knew that they wouldn’t grow into their full forms for years. She knew that there were crags and sinkholes that had only been hastily filled in with dirt, and that many parts of the manor’s interior were still in dire need of repairs. It didn’t matter, however, because it was impossible to see all these broken details past the throng of faces that all turned to regard her arrival.

The music began at once. It wasn’t the archetypal wedding melody that Rarity had once dreamed of, nor any other song that she recognized, but it was pleasant enough to somewhat soothe her. Lyre, flute, and organ filled her ears as she followed Whitehorn up the aisle with robotic stiffness.

At the end of the aisle waited her shackles. Duke Titus stood at the top of the manor steps, the unpainted stone still visible where repairs had been made just days prior. He wasn’t wearing his usual breastplate—perhaps because it was still being mended—and instead displayed his crest proudly on a thick orange cloak. There was a wooden table in front of him which carried a single small vial on a circular cushion. To his right stood a clearly nervous Pontius, wearing an orange tabard over thin mail, and flanked by stern-faced senior members of Titus’ guard. To his left was an open space where Rarity was to stand. Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy stood behind it, wearing simple white dresses and encouraging smiles.

Wrong. Rarity couldn’t get the word out of her head. It’s all wrong.

There was a slight ringing in her head as Whitehorn let her hoof go and she took the final steps to her position. The Duke waved for silence and began to speak, but Rarity couldn’t make out any words. She frowned at him, watching his lips move for nearly a full minute, and then looked to Pontius. The colt gave her a small smile—sympathetic, or merely excited? She didn’t know what there was to smile about, either way.

A mare dressed in a plain white robe approached the duo, and after a few seconds Rarity recognized her as Mother White, the priestess at one of the local Celestial churches. Had she stepped up to announce her objection? No, she walked up to Titus and plucked a feather from his extended wings with her mouth. How odd.

Rarity watched with detached interest as Mother White turned to the table and dipped the feather into the first vial, which Rarity realized held a pure white dye much like the color of her own coat. The priestess turned to Pontius with the white feather, who straightened his stance and opened his mouth to speak.

Rarity couldn’t hear him over her own heartbeat, but the words were obvious. “I do.”

He extended his right wing. With a small smile, Mother White wove the white feather in among his dusty brown primaries. A round of polite applause sounded from the crowd.

Mother White then plucked a brown feather from Pontius’ wing. Slowly she turned to Rarity, her smile now showing an encouraging sympathy instead of pride, and prompted her with a nod.

Rarity blinked. Was it time already? She wished that her friends weren’t behind her so that she could look to them for strength. Her ears flicked as she heard a low snarl from Titus, barely audible.

“Say it.”

The pit of dread in her breast grew tighter still. She pulled her dry lips apart and, after several seconds, managed to speak the terrible words.

“I do.”

Mother White nodded. Rarity watched as the older mare walked to her side and slipped Pontius’ brown feather into a prepared fold on the left side of her dress before stepping back and to the side.

“Good girl,” Titus rumbled. He raised his voice to address the assembled crowd. “By th’ power I hold as th’ lord of this land, I now pronounce ye mare and stallion! Kiss yer bride, lad.”

Pontius shot an anxious glance towards his father, who only looked back with silent command. After visibly taking a moment to steel himself, he leaned in towards Rarity, who closed her eyes and simply waited. She resisted the urge to cringe as she felt his lips—only on her cheek, thank Celestia—and the audience stomped their hooves in approval.

Rarity took a deep, calming breath as she opened her eyes and looked out over the hundreds of faces below. In the first rows sat the nobles and their entourages, who had paused in their quiet discussion just long enough to acknowledge the sanctified union with calculating eyes. Behind them was a thin band of curious commoners, travelers from the urbanized west edge of Altalusia and islands beyond who had been drawn in by the news of the marriage of the supposed Last Lady of Old Equestria. Their obvious skepticism was a familiar sight to Rarity, but it was the furthest back, most numerous ponies who held her attention.

The villagers of Titus’ land, the farmers and cottage artisans who had no doubt scrubbed off days of dirt accumulated in the fields so that they could don tired homemade outfits and watch the festivities, gazed up at her with unabashed excitement. Young fillies stared in open-mouthed awe at her dress, while wrinkled stallions smiled at Pontius with obvious pride. They all wore bright smiles and chattered eagerly amongst themselves, and Rarity found herself wondering just what it was they were so happy about.

Were they too simple to understand how terrible her fate was? What did they care that a mare they’d never heard of a scant week ago was binding herself to the son of their brutish lord?

Rarity flinched as she felt a rough hoof on her shoulder. Titus’ voice spoke into her ear. “I admit, I was expectin’ ye t’ turn tail up t’ th’ last second.”

“A lady keeps her word,” Rarity growled back. “I can only assume that the concept is new to one such as yourself.”

“Heh. Yer of fine stock, Countess.” Titus took a few steps past her, towards the crowd, and beckoned to her and Pontius with a wing. “Lad, grab yer mare. There’re some guests I want ye to meet.”

Pontius shot a nervous glance towards Rarity, but she stomped her hoof in objection before he could speak. “I am a mare of my own, and I have no intent of being paraded around like a trophy! I’ve done as you asked, and I won’t suffer another moment of this indignity!” She paused, waiting for Titus to look back at her so she could stare him down. “You will honor our deal.”

Infuriatingly enough, the grizzled pegasus had the nerve to answer her objection with an amused grin. “Aye, ye’re right. Yer precious bandits are free.”

Rarity blinked. She had been expecting him to put up some fight, to hang the threat of the bandits over her and demand that she obey him. By all means, he possessed the power to do so, and there was nothing she would be able to do to stop him. Perhaps I’ve underestimated him?

No. A lady is not so easily impressed.

With a flick of her tail, Rarity turned away. Pinkie and Fluttershy were watching her with obvious concern, so she spared a few seconds to say, “I’ll be in my room, girls,” before striding for the towering double doors of the manor. The doors opened on their own as she approached, no doubt thanks to a watchful servant, and Rarity stormed through unimpeded.

Despair, shame, and fury all competed for dominance inside her. She tore the wedding dress off and cast it to the side, relishing the ripping scream of its threads. She had been crushed when Titus had first forced her to agree to the marriage, but now she wanted payback. How dare he think to own her, to control her, to dress her up like a doll before that crowd and make her speak those rotten words?

It didn’t take long to reach her rooms at her pace. She slammed the door shut behind her, causing the sky-themed paintings on the walls to rattle as if in fear. She groaned in frustration as she threw a painting of an armored pegasus across the room with her magic. Would it kill him to decorate his home with a single thing of beauty instead of plastering every surface with winged soldiers, airships, and skyscapes?

She shook herself. Wild fury wasn’t going to get her anywhere. A lady only angers with purpose. But what purpose? She took deep breaths, forcing her racing thoughts to focus. She was a member of a powerful noble house now. The servants and soldiers seemed to listen to her, though she had never requested anything especially egregious, and they treated her more like a hotel guest than a superior. How much authority did she really have as the wife of the Duke’s heir? She couldn’t help but curl her lip at the revolting question.

A quiet knock at the door drew her attention. She rounded on it sharply. “What?!”

The door creaked open, and Pontius poked his head inside. “Lady Rarity, are ye well?”

“No, I am not well!” Rarity snapped. “And I didn’t tell you that you could enter!”

Pontius flinched. He glanced back into the hall, gulped, and then stepped fully into the room before closing the door behind him. He didn’t meet her glare, instead fiddling with the mangled wedding dress he had slung over his back. “I th-thought ye might need someone t-to talk to.”

Rarity narrowed her eyes. “Did your father put you up to this?”

He looked everywhere but her. Was he sweating? “I—I just—”

“Do not lie to me, Pontius,” Rarity growled. “I am very much not in the mood.”

Several seconds passed while the colt searched for his words. For a moment Rarity almost felt sorry for him. He couldn’t have been more than 20 years old, by her guess. It was just a moment, though.

At last he cleared his throat and glanced in her direction. “W-we’re expected t-to c-c-consummate our m-marriage.”

Rarity’s jaw dropped. After a few seconds she found the presence of mind to close her jaw and work it side to side in a very unladylike fashion. The colt at least seemed to have the wisdom to look ashamed of himself, if his blushing cheeks and shivering hooves were any indication. Stiffly, Rarity stepped towards him. She raised a hoof.

He opened his mouth to say something, but only a strained squeak came out. The sound of her hoof smacking across his face was much, much louder.

To his credit, he took the slap like a proper stallion, making no attempt to oppose nor escape it. He only raised a hoof to the red spot on his cheek and rubbed it gingerly. For the first time since entering the room, he found the strength to look her in the eyes.

“Uncouth brat!” Rarity spat, causing him to cringe back. “You have some nerve to traipse into a lady’s room when she is clearly upset and demand sex! What do you take me for? Do you think I’m some two-bit whore who’s willing to spread her legs for every upstart colt that’s intelligent enough to get his groin past the threshold of her door?!” Her nostrils flared as she took a moment to process her outrage. “I am a lady, and you will treat me as such! Now get! Out!”

Her horn lit up, and he paled as his clothes tightened around him. With a sweep of her horn, she tore the door open, flung him out into the hall, and slammed it in his face.

Rarity took a deep breath. She had to admit that there was a certain catharsis to ejecting unwanted callers from her room by their lapels, even if it wasn’t quite accepted in polite society.

Just as she was about to turn away from the door, she heard Pontius knock once more. “Countess, please. J-just let me sleep on t-the floor tonight. It’s t-tradition.”

Rarity frowned, eyeing the door with her brow furrowed in thought. Had Pontius ever been anything but respectful towards her before? No, it was his father that had always spoke with contempt, looked down on her, and treated her as an object. It was Pontius whom she had seen treating the villagers with dignity and leading soldiers through the woods in search of bandits. He wasn’t the one that had forced her into marriage or insulted her to her face. He had always been cordial, polite, even earnest at times.

Perhaps she was misdirecting her anger. Perhaps Pontius was trying to do his best as a young stallion trapped between a demanding father and his own ideals. Had he protested when his father had sent him to her room talking of consummation?

There was a thud against the door, and Rarity realized that Pontius was leaning against it. She imagined that Titus was not the type of father who took kindly to failure.

Rarity’s horn glowed as she pulled the door open. Pontius let out a shout of alarm as he fell backwards into the room, the wedding dress falling onto his face. She pulled it aside quickly, looking down at him with a discerning gaze. He blinked up at her and opened his mouth to say something, but was smart enough to close it before any words came out.

I suppose there’s no harm in treating him with the same respect he shows me, Rarity thought.

“You may stay the night,” Rarity said curtly. “I shall make you a place to sleep on the floor, but if you so much as touch my bed—” she tossed her mane and fixed him with her best smoldering glare “—I’ll throw you out a window next time.”

His tense expression gave way to a nervous smile. “Thank ye, my Lady.”

Rarity nodded, closed the door, and turned to find some appropriate linens in her closet. If she was going to be forced to wed the colt, then she would be sure to teach him proper manners.

The three dive suits were lined up along one wall of the Argo’s cargo hold, but Rainbow’s eye was focused entirely on the steel blue set in the middle. She flared her wings to match the set on the armor, imagining herself wearing it and protected by the silver-trimmed armor plates that covered almost every surface. She couldn’t suppress her wide grin as she looked over the hard, wing-shaped limbs at the sides, decorated with gleaming sharp cutting edges and sets of pressurized air jets on the backs for propelling her through the water. She stepped up close, almost muzzle-to-cold muzzle with the thing, and peered into each of the two angled glass eye holes on its face, catching the glint of the metal inside. Her very own dive suit, custom-built to fit her figure so she could explore ruins and fight monsters with comfort and ease. It was, in a word—

“Awesome,” Rainbow breathed. She turned to her friend standing besides her. “AJ, these are so awesome!”

“Uh huh.” Applejack regarded her with a warm, amused smile. “I heard ya the first few times.”

Star Trails chuckled as she brushed some imaginary dust off of the orange-tinted set on the right. “Yeah, I still remember when I got mine, y’know. Armis Metalworks will really do some good work when you pay like Crazy does.”

“How did they get done so fast?” Rainbow asked, hovering around the three sets in a slow circle. Her excitement faltered for a moment when she reached the lavender armor on the left, but she recovered quickly. “I mean, we’ve only been here a day!”

“Sabre ordered these a couple weeks ago, actually,” Trails explained. “After we did that dive in—Ponyville, was it? Yeah. Of course then Gava showed up and we weren’t really around for the delivery.” She shrugged, then broke out into a grin of her own. “But we’re here now, so congratulations! You guys don’t have to deal with those cheap one-size-fits-all cans anymore!”

“They surely are somethin’ fine,” Applejack said. “I can appreciate good craftsmareship when I see it, but did y’all have to put that gun mount on mine?” She grimaced as she regarded her suit from a few steps back. A sturdy casing was riveted onto one side, similar to the one’s Rainbow had seen on both sides of Flintlock’s armor. She knew from talking to him that it could be opened up to reveal a rail where a gun could be mounted to the armor’s integral trigger system before being closed again to protect it from the crushing water pressure of the ocean. “I mean, I ain’t never done any shootin’ before.”

Trails snorted. “Go tell Flint that. He’ll have you hitting barn sides within a couple days, tops.”

Applejack frowned. “Wait, why would we be shootin’ at barns?”

Rainbow kept smiling, but she stopped listening as she landed in front of the third, unclaimed dive suit. Twilight’s suit. Sea Sabre had ordered these back when they were all still together, so it made sense that Twilight would be included, but Rainbow found herself wondering if it would ever see any use. She brushed a wing over the armored hornpiece, tracing the thin, off-white spiral etched into the surface. She could almost imagine that Twilight was standing right there in front of her, but of course when she looked into the slitted visor she saw nothing but dark shadows. Would she see the same darkness in Twilight’s eyes when they finally did find her?

“Hey, RD? Woohoo, you listening?” Trails let out a short whistle to grab Rainbow’s attention. “I know these things are pretty sweet, but the rest of the world’s still here too.”

“Oh, what?” Rainbow blinked, turning to the other two mares.

“Okay, once again. We’ve got a day or two yet before we head out,” Trails began. From the way she was speaking, Rainbow got the impression that it was the second time she’d said this. “So if you wanted any adjustments or modifications, we can get some stuff done.”

“I’m gettin’ some spurs and studs on mine,” Applejack said, giving her suit’s leg a soft kick. “Reckon I’ll feel a heck of a lot safer with my hooves than I would with some fancy gun.”

“Hrm.” Rainbow raised a hoof to rub at her chin as she eyed her own suit. Maybe she could have a gun mount added? She dismissed the idea quickly—she had never shot a gun, and if her last fight with Gava was any indication, they weren’t anywhere as reliable as a good set of wing blades. Besides, it already looked pretty cool as it was. She didn’t want to risk messing that up. Then again, it could use a little more Rainbow Dash flair.

She turned to Star Trails with a smirk. “Have we got any paint?”

Deep inside the maze of rubble that was Old Canterlot, swathed in claustrophobic darkness, a changeling screamed.

Twilight had heard many screams like it since arriving in the dead city. They often came one after another, overlapping and building up into a shrill crescendo before fading away like a roll of thunder. She had imagined that perhaps the changelings were hunting something, although she was never able to figure out what it was that they hunted. There didn’t seem to be any other life in the city—aside from Spike, she realized with a cringe, although he didn’t seem a likely victim—but perhaps there was some species of elusive herbivore subsisting off of the fungus, providing a food source for the swarm. It always made her look over her shoulder when she had these thoughts. What was she if not a hidden prey animal scavenging for scraps in damp corners?

This time the source of the screams was close. Twilight had tucked herself beneath a pile of bricks held up by a fallen timber on the second floor of a slender building, just a few steps back from a shattered window frame. She didn’t dare light her horn, and so she squeezed herself as low to the cool stone floor as she could, body stiff while her ears flicked this way and that listening to the changelings fight something in the street below.

She strained to discern some meaning from the subtle differences between each shriek. Was that a cry of pain, or a call for blood? Did changelings always sound so agitated, or were they in the middle of a heated conflict? She had no way to tell, and so she listened and waited.

She didn’t know how long it took for the commotion to end, but it felt like hours. Her ears flicked at the sound of shifting rubble and hard carapace scraping over stone, and she pushed herself further back into her hiding spot. If a changeling came too close, it might hear her shaky breaths. She wouldn’t be able to see one even if it was staring right at her in this darkness. She looked to The Other, who sat in a patch of blackness as featureless as any other while it watched her.

You should be on lookout, not just watching me, she said.

It arched a brow. Very well. I shall turn and stare at the same darkness you are. It made a great show of slowly turning in place with little shuffling steps. Oh, I see something!

Twilight stiffened. What is it?

It’s nothing, you idiot. Twilight blinked, and the Other was facing her again. Its calculating gaze was replaced with a sneer. Or did you think I had a pair of invisible eyes floating over here that only you can see?

Twilight glared up at it. Maybe I was just hoping you’d do something helpful for once.

As opposed to something worthless like letting you starve us to death?

Shut up! Twilight snapped. Her hooves twitched as she held herself back from stomping at the ground. We need to focus.

Then stop distracting us.

Twilight did the mental equivalent of a frustrated huff, but didn’t push the matter any further. She reminded herself that the fanged, blood-matted Twilight Sparkle leering at her from the corner of her vision had no physical presence in reality. After so long with its constant presence, it had begun to feel just as real as the cold stones of Canterlot, but she had to remember the truth. There was nobody there to watch her back.

The ruins had gone silent. Twilight cringed at the light cast from her horn as she sent a series of pings out into the darkness. I think they’re gone.

Then what are we waiting for? We must move quickly.

But what if I’m wrong? What if they know we’re here, and they’re just waiting for us to come out?

Remember the plan, little flower. We can always teleport us out—unless you change your mind, of course.

But how can I trust you? Twilight narrowed her eyes, trying to somehow see further without brightening her horn. How can I know you won’t try to make me fight anyways?

The Other scoffed. You’ve agreed to my terms by seeking out meat, and so I’ve agreed to yours. Unlike you, I haven’t made a regular habit of lying, to myself or anything else. It paused, and Twilight could feel its disgust. No doubt you would get us killed if I tried, anyways.

Twilight nodded, sensing the blunt honesty in its words. Her unwanted passenger may not be friendly, but she knew that it valued survival.

Satisfied, Twilight crawled up to the broken window frame and peered outside, forming her hornlight into a cone. Spiraling motes of dust danced in the lavender spotlight as she scanned the street below, illuminating wet streaks of fresh green blood. A changeling lay still atop a collapsed barricade of rotten wood. Its carapace had been broken in several locations, each one leaking more thick ichor in a growing puddle beneath it.

Twilight grimaced. It’s dead.

Yes, as we had hoped. The Other looked up at her from beside the corpse. Come and—wait. Do you feel that?

The Other was looking up now, eyes wide with obvious alarm. Twilight followed its gaze, shining her spotlight up into the blanket of darkness above her, but she didn’t see anything. What is it?

We’re being watched, the Other hissed. Quickly, grab the meat!

Adrenaline surged in Twilight’s veins, pushing back the fog of exhaustion as she scrambled out of the window. She landed on a pile of rubble and skidded down the side with stiff legs, grimacing as the hard stone scraped against her hooves and fur. She bounced off the bottom with a grunt.

The Other was crouched over the changeling body, its bloodshot eyes fixed upwards. Faster!

Twilight fell to the ground next to the body. She cringed back from the warmth and pungent scent, but the urgency in the Other’s voice drove her on. The air seemed to buzz around her as she wrapped herself and the changeling in her magic, squeezed her eyes shut, and thought of safety.

There was a loud pop, and the buzzing stopped. Twilight yelped as she fell to the ground in the sealed off castle kitchen that she’d been using as a hideout. She yelped again at the thud of the changeling body hitting the stone beside her.

What was that? Twilight asked. She scanned the room, sending pings in every direction, but nothing unusual or dangerous jumped out at her.

I’m not sure, the Other said. Its voice carried an edge that Twilight hadn’t heard before. It was another… like me.

Twilight frowned. The blood was still rushing in her ears, and she was having some trouble gathering her thoughts. She looked around and saw her illusive doppelganger hunched over the cooking fire. You mean like us?

I’m not sure! In an instant, the Other was in her face, fangs bared. I sensed something, something like me, but bigger. And it could sense me, too. It turned away, a distant look in its eyes. It was hungry.

Twilight looked up and met the Other’s gaze. Is it… afraid?

I am not afraid! The Other stomped a hoof, and its voice echoed inside her head with enough volume to make her vision blur. We have acquired the meat we need. Eat it!

When Twilight’s sight finally cleared enough for her to get her bearings, she was alone. She turned a full circle, pushing back the shadows with the lavender light of her horn, but the Other was nowhere to be seen. Hello? Are you there?

There was no answer. Twilight could still feel the presence of the Other deep inside her, but it had left her alone for the moment.

For several seconds, Twilight wasn’t sure how to react. The unexpected outburst combined with the last lingering traces of adrenaline left her with a nervous energy, and she found herself tapping a hoof, looking around with wide eyes, waiting for some hissed insult that never came.

Her gaze fell on the corpse at her hooves, and it shook her from her stupor. There was a body in front of her, bruised and bleeding and smelling of death. She had not killed it, but she was going to eat it. She didn’t have a choice. She repeated the thoughts to herself several times, and after the tenth time she found the willpower to begin moving.

The thought of tearing chunks of flesh off the corpse like she had before sent a powerful shiver down her spine, and so she resolved to cook it instead. With a grimace she levitated The Carnivore’s Cookbook, Equestrian Edition to her eyes and checked the table of contents. Meat-based meals for the adventurous pony—page 88.

She flipped to the relevant page, scanning the text and trying not to settle on any one of the gruesome words within. A pit formed at the bottom of her stomach as she realized that all the instructions were based off of cuts of meat, not fresh corpses. She would have to butcher the body herself.

Keeping her eyes forward, Twilight wrapped her magic around the body. She flinched at the crunching and cracking sounds the carapace made as she forcibly peeled it free from the changeling’s body. She grabbed a butcher’s knife in her magic—the castle kitchens were equipped to prepare any meal, it seemed—and began to cut.

Chop. Chop. Chop.

The steaks would be ragged and poorly shaped, and there was a part of her that protested at doing a task with so little precision, but that part was easily dwarfed by the pony desperately clinging to her identity. She didn’t know if she could handle watching herself butcher the body of another being.

With the bloody work done, Twilight levitated a trio of changeling steaks in front of her. The meat was grey like ash, glistening with sinew and fat, and it made her mouth water. Disgusting. They landed in her pan with wet smacks.

She worked on autopilot, keeping her muzzle buried in the text of the cook book and only sometimes glancing at the pan. She had often performed simple experiments with this method, and had been proud of her ability to follow rote instructions while her mind was elsewhere. Her eyes glided over the page without seeing, and her magic flowed around the ingredients without feeling. It wasn’t until the scent of cooked meat began to tickle at her nostrils that she finally escaped her trance.

The meat sizzled and popped in its juices, having transformed from stiff grey charcoal to a spongy black steak. Fat seeped from the porous little holes that dotted its surface before pooling in a creamy froth at the bottom of the pan. And the smell. Twilight had never smelled something so savory in her life. She found herself leaning in, swallowing the saliva that pooled in her mouth.

Bile rose in the back of her throat and she pulled back. She had convinced herself, rationally, that this was okay, and her body clearly agreed in earnest. She still couldn’t touch the fork.

Minutes passed. She drew the heat out of the pan with a simple spell to ensure the meat didn’t overcook and simply sat there, drawing the greasy scent in. She looked around the room, expecting the Other to be standing in the shadows nearby ready to jeer her into action, but she was alone. She felt lonely.

Hello?

No answer. Did the Other have a name that she could call? It seemed to be intelligent, but it had never offered any formal introduction. It had always been ready with a snide remark and a contemptuous glare, and there had never been a need to summon it before now. With a sigh and another glance at her cooked food, Twilight realized that she would have to go looking for her unwanted guest.

With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and turned her senses inwards. The Other had been a constant, inescapable presence ever since Twilight had accepted its help on Altalusia, and she’d grown familiar with the feel of its movements. She had never been able to hide from it, and no matter how hard it might try, it couldn’t hide from her.

She opened her eyes. She was standing on the wooden deck of an airship beneath angular white sails that fluttered in a wailing breeze she couldn’t feel. A cloudless night sky stretched above her, broken only by twirling tendrils of lavender and black that arced over the horizon. Twilight regarded the ship with a frown. It looked like Gava’s ship, but why would the Other be hiding someplace like this?

The howling wind grew louder, and Twilight watched as the ship’s rigging began to move, adjusting the sails by its own volition. The wind transformed into a chorus of ghostly voices, all singing with the rhythm of the ship’s movement.

We go down to the deep, down to the dark, down to the black and cold.
Where the monsters don’t sleep, nor does the shark, nor does the evil old.
There’s salvage down there in the canyons, there’s jewels and silver and gold.
So go down to the deep, down to the dark, down to the black and cold.

A chill hung in the air, and Twilight shivered as she walked up to a door that led below decks. She opened it with her magic and let her hooves guide her deeper into the ship, through cracked halls and past shattered walls. All the while, the voices rolled over her.

The clouds up here beckon, the sun up here warms
my face with her ancient Celestial charms.
But she didn’t reach out to rescue my love,
when she slipped on the deck and fell from above.

At last she reached her destination. A narrow wooden hall stretched before her, housing six simple jail cells. The Other stood behind the bars of one, frowning down at a broken ring on the floor.

It looked up sharply as she entered. “What are you doing here?”

Twilight offered up a weak smile. “I was, uh, looking for you?”

The Other regarded her coldly. After several seconds, it spoke. “For what purpose?”

Twilight grimaced, flinching away from its gaze. She would have laughed at the mundanity of what she was about to say if the words didn’t make her nauseous. “The food’s ready.”

“Then eat it.” It turned away with a grunt of annoyance.

Twilight’s ears drooped as she bit her lip. What was she supposed to say? The Other already thought her to be a worthless weakling, and asking it for help just to eat would only inspire more mockery. She blinked, raising a hoof to her head in confusion. Why should she be concerned about its feelings on anything? It was a pest; an invader in her mind, her most sacred place.

But it had feelings. Whereas before Twilight had thought it to be nothing more than anger given a voice, it had displayed so much more breadth in the past week. It had shown pride, wit, frustration, and even fear. Was it sequestering itself away because it was ashamed of that fear? Twilight almost found herself wishing for the simpler time when she was certain the Other was an evil, soulless entity trying to forcibly conquer her body. Looking at it now, as much as she wanted to deny it, Twilight saw a creature in turmoil, and she couldn’t help but walk closer. As she pushed herself into motion, the shadow voices began another verse.

In my dreams I see her how she was that day.
She reaches to touch me, then just falls away.
The world’s painted silver, when I wake from my screams.
The moon doesn’t listen; she keeps sending dreams.

The bars of the Other’s cell gave a rusty creak as Twilight opened the door and stepped inside. Now that she was closer, she could see thin tendrils of smoke spiraling off of the broken ring on the floor. “What is this place?”

The Other’s tail flicked side to side. “It is my place. As your tree is yours.”

Twilight’s frown deepened. “Your… home?”

“You may call it as you wish. It is my place.”

“This is Gava’s ship, isn’t it?” Twilight scanned the little cell curiously. “Why would you choose this?”

With a snarl, the Other turned to glare at her. “Choose? Did you have the liberty of choosing your pitiful tree, little flower? Because I never chose to wake on this ship, surrounded by weapons or iron bars. It was you that brought me here!”

Twilight flinched back. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Yes, you don’t know much; that is obvious,” the Other sneered. It snorted, looking away.

The dismissal was clear, but Twilight knew she couldn’t back down. She looked around, searching for what to say next, watching as the Other’s ears angled back and its hooves began to scrape at the wooden floor. After almost a minute of silence, Twilight blurted out the only words she could think of.

“What’s your name?”

The Other stiffened, and Twilight could tell that it was thinking. Its answer came out in a low growl. “I have no need of a name.”

“Of course you do,” Twilight countered. She risked stepping closer, coming up to its side. “What do I call you if you don’t have a name?”

It shot her a sideways glare. “You call me ‘Other.’”

Twilight’s eyes widened. Of course it would know what she called it in her mind—that’s where it dwelled. Mentally chastising herself, Twilight tried again. “Is that what you want me to call you?”

It narrowed its eyes. Twilight didn’t need a psychic connection to pick up on its suspicion. “What are you doing?”

Twilight took a deep breath, answering the suspicion with a wan smile. “I’m trying to get to know you.”

The Other curled its lip at her, then turned away. Its focus returned to the smoldering halves of the broken ring on the floor, and for a long time it said nothing. Twilight watched with trepidation, her hooves twitching. The moaning of the invisible singers was barely audible through the wooden walls.

How I wish so to end it, to dive after my wife,
to sink and freeze and drown in the wreckage of my life!
But I am not a craven, the quick way’s not for me,
and there’s things in the deep that will do the job for free.

Just as Twilight was considering speaking again, the Other met her eyes. Its gaze was hard and imperious, its lips set in a stern frown. “Midnight.”

Twilight nodded, and the Other—Midnight, she corrected herself—looked away with a scoff. After a few seconds, Twilight cleared her throat. “I was hoping you would come eat with me?”

Midnight grunted. “You can’t bring yourself to do it, can you, little flower?”

“Well—” Twilight pursed her lips, considering denial, but decided against it. “No, I can’t.”

“I suppose I expected too much of you,” Midnight said. It stood up, turned around, and marched out of the cell without looking at her. “But I see it’s necessary for me to handle even something so simple as feeding ourselves.”

Twilight let out a sigh of relief. As long as Midnight was pestering her with condescending remarks, she knew where she stood. The chorus of unseen sailors continued their song as she followed herself out of the brig.

I go down to the deep, down to the dark, down to the black and cold.
Where the monsters don’t sleep, nor does the shark, nor does the evil old.
There’s destiny there in the ruins, there’s things that will swallow your soul.
So go down to the deep, down to the dark, down to the black and cold.

Twilight opened her eyes. She was back in the dark, ruined kitchen, the pan-seared steak waiting patiently before her. Midnight was sitting opposite her, eyeing the meat with obvious hunger. You cooked it.

Twilight smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t really want to just—you know.” She nodded her head towards where the half-butchered changeling was hidden. She still hadn’t looked at it.

Without another word, Midnight’s horn glowed. Its lavender aura was interspersed with popping bubbles of darkness, and it picked up the steak and levitated it towards its open maw. Its fangs snapped close with enough force to make Twilight flinch, and she watched as the juice dribbled down Midnight’s muzzle to join the ever-present bloodstains on her chin. Then the taste hit her.

It was disgustingly heavy and greasy, and it was delicious in a way that Twilight hadn’t thought possible. She watched with open-mouthed, drooling amazement as Midnight tore piece after piece away from the steak, each bite another splash of piquant flavor on her tongue. She could feel the fog lifting from her mind as it swallowed; her thoughts were coming clearer than they had in days. She felt whole. She felt strong. She felt like she could take on the world and come out on top.

Twilight shook herself. Don’t let it mess with your head. Meat was a necessity, and nothing more. As soon as she could, she would find a way to reject Midnight and turn herself back to how she was before. She must not forget herself. But meanwhile—

Midnight swallowed the last bite of the steak. Both of them looked to each other as their stomachs rumbled.

Twilight’s fangs pricked her tongue as she licked the lingering flavor from her lips. “I should make more.”

Author's Notes:

Two unions between two pairs. Neither one is wholly consensual on either side, but maybe something good could come of them anyways?

Big thanks to Dinkledash for writing the lyrics of the ghost sailors' song!

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IV: Of Home

The clang of steel against steel rang out in the crisp air outside of Titus’ manor as Pontius exchanged blows with his sparring partner. Their hooves danced back and forth across the dirt of the practice yard, kicking up little puffs of dust with every step that drifted in the breeze. Sometimes one pegasus would leap into the air, straining his wings to pull off aerobatic dodges or feints, and the dust cloud would grow thicker when he fell back to the ground. Rarity couldn’t help but lean away every time they did so, but it made little difference. She had been sure to seat herself upwind.

She had never been a mare particularly interested in martial arts. They were barbaric practices from barbaric times, and it was more than unbecoming for a lady such as herself to partake in them. When Whitehorn had suggested coming out to watch Pontius training, her first reaction had been one of disgust. She wanted nothing to do with Titus, his son, or such a display.

But he had insisted. She couldn’t shut herself away in her rooms all day. There were still ponies who needed her, and she had to get back into motion. They needed to talk about their next steps. Good arguments, all. She had relented, but brought a book with her. She was still carrying Crazy Rich’s copy of The Count of Mareti Cristo, and it would serve as a pleasant distraction if needed.

Whitehorn sighed as he settled in next to her, reclining in the shade of the orange cloth canopy they were sharing. “Fine weather, don’t you think? It was nice of the Duke to give the workers the day off.”

Rarity pursed her lips. “I doubt niceness has anything to do with it, frankly.”

Whitehorn chuckled. “You don’t give him enough credit, Countess. He nearly died in that battle, you know.”

“And he nearly killed my friend!” Rarity snapped, turning sharply to face the other unicorn. He had foregone his vest today, perhaps because of the heat of the sun, and was wearing only a white shirt. “Did you bring me here so you could try to change my opinion on the bastard that’s trapped me here? No offense to you, darling, but I’m not fond of having my time wasted like that.”

He arched a brow at that. “My Lady, you do realize that the Duke is our ally, correct?”

“Ally?” Rarity curled her lip as she spat the word. “I want nothing to do with him, and neither should you! I would have thought you were better than this.”

“And I know you’re smarter than this.” She shot him a disbelieving look, and he raised a hoof to ward off her rebuttal. “Rarity, please listen to me. The Duke isn’t normally the sort of person that ponies like us would associate with, true. He is hard, selfish, and lacking in empathy.”

“And grace, and decorum, and even a sliver of fashion sense!”

Whitehorn dipped his head. “Yes, and those. But what he does have is power and influence, something that we need. He may be doing it for the wrong reasons, but ultimately he’s still helping to make the world a better place. That makes him our ally, and someone you should treat with respect.”

Rarity clenched her jaw, staring him down with ears back against her head. Was it immature for her to hold a grudge like this when it couldn’t do anything but harm her? Titus was despicable in nature, but fate had seen fit to align their interests, and it would be foalish of her to continue jeopardizing his continued aid as long as that remained true.

She tossed her mane. “I don’t like it.”

“I’ve had to work with many ponies who I don’t like in the past,” Whitehorn said. “Sometimes even after they wronged me. It feels dirty at first, but once it’s all said and done and you’re finally able to cast them aside and move on to greater things—well, it’s all worth it in the end.” He smiled. “I’m not asking you to like him, or even to enjoy working with him, but I am asking you to show him the respect he doesn’t show you, at least until we don’t need him anymore. Do it for Equestria.”

Rarity’s tail flicked side to side as she heaved a sigh. Of course he was right. She closed her eyes and thought of the soot-stained ponies of Heighton, the refugees drowning in Fellis, and the tired villagers that had worn their best threadbare clothes to her wedding. She could draw strength from that. If it was what they needed, and it was, then she could give Titus a cooperative partner. At least for now.

“How long?” Rarity asked. “Until we don’t need him?”

Whitehorn let out a thoughtful hum. “No more than a couple months, thankfully. Once we get the Altalusian vote in Parliament, his part of the bargain is over. You can treat him how you will after that.”

“His part?” Rarity asked. Her ears twitched at the sound of the two pegasi stomping back and forth in the dirt. “What did you promise him in return?”

“The Altalusian prefecture,” Whitehorn said. “Someone has to manage the Gifted at the local level, and I promised him the title once we get the Table put into place. He imagines he’ll be establishing a new dynasty of Altalusian kings.”

Rarity opened her eyes, turning to frown at him. “The title would pass to Pontius? It sounds like you actually are promising him a kingdom.” She fidgeted in place. “Would that really make life any better here for the common pony, darling?”

Whitehorn answered with an apologetic smile. “At first perhaps not, but Altalusia’s sacrifice will give ponies across Equestria an old harmony that they don’t even remember missing. Once we have that base, we can work to spread that harmony everywhere.”

“I see.” Rarity frowned as she watched Pontius exchange blows with his tutor. The blades attached to their wings were dulled with strips of rubber to prevent injury. The tutor ducked backwards, egging Pontius on, and laughed as the colt pressed the attack. A grin flickered on Pontius’ face for just a moment, breaking through his mask of concentration. “And I think I see how I can make sure it happens here sooner rather than later.”

Whether it was coltish infatuation or chivalrous ideals, Pontius wanted to impress her. With some careful guidance and encouragement, she could turn him from the path of his father and mold him into a shining paragon of nobility. By the time the brute Titus finally passed away—and good riddance to him—a kind lord would be ready to take the reins.

And when I let the Duke’s line end with no heir, all of his efforts will be for naught. Rarity couldn’t help but smile at the thought. As much as she may like to imagine raising a beautiful family with her true love, she had no intent of bearing grandfoals for the stallion who had trapped her. She would take his son and turn him to her side, and he would regret the day he thought to own her.

“I’m glad you convinced me to come out here, Whitehorn.” She stood up and tossed her mane, giving her companion a warm smile. “With the two of us working together, there’s no force that can prevent the creation of a better Equestria. What’s our next move?”

Whitehorn grinned up at her. “It’s good to see the dour expression that’s been haunting your beautiful face for the past few days replaced with your usual gusto, my Lady. Parliament will be convening at Harvest soon, and we have to be sure that the island is united enough to send a delegate that will support us. Titus has called a meeting with several other nobles for tomorrow.”

“Exquisite.” Rarity turned to the training ring and saw that the two pegasi had settled down in the shade of the manor for a break. “I’ll be sure to attend. For now, I think it’s best I begin to apply myself to the situation at hoof. Ta ta for now, my sweet.”

She strutted out from under the canopy, allowing the sunlight to glitter against the white gown she had adorned before leaving her rooms. Pontius looked up at the movement, and she caught his eye with a toss of her mane and a gentle smile. He blushed, looking away and dipping his head into the trough of water he and his mentor were leaning on.

The mentor followed his gaze to Rarity and let out a deep belly laugh as she approached. “Chin up, lad! How do ye expect t’ keep troops in line at battle when ye turn tail at th’ first sight of yer own mare?”

Pontius shook his wet mane as he pulled his head out of the trough and took in a deep breath. “I don’t know what yer talking about, Master! Ye always tell me to be careful about overheating, so I’m being careful!”

“Ah, course ye are.” The older stallion stood up and greeted Rarity with a nod as she reached the duo. “Sir Aetius. Th’ lad’s talked much of ye today.”

Rarity dipped into a prim curtsey. She had been expecting a far rougher countenance from a murder instructor. “Countess Rarity. I certainly hope it’s all good things.”

Aetius grinned. He was wearing a padded orange vest with a brown cloth shirt beneath, and the burnt red fur on his face was marred by multiple scars. “I certainly ain’t th’ kind of stallion that would betray his nephew even if he didn’t.”

“Oh, you’re related?” Rarity looked between them, seeing the similarity now that she was up close.

“Aye. Titus knows I won’t go easy on th’ lad just t’ keep pay flowing,” Aetius said. “And he knows he ain’t got half my experience when it comes t’ teachin’ th’ young ‘n eager t’ defend ‘emselves.”

Rarity turned to Pontius with an encouraging smile, hoping to make up for some of her previous attitude, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Perhaps a more direct approach? “So this is the pony responsible for teaching you how to defend me, then?”

He seemed to straighten up some at that, but he kept his gaze to the side. “A-aye, my Lady.”

“Then I owe you thanks, my Lord.” Rarity dipped into a low bow towards Aetius. “Sir Pontius has proven himself to be a stalwart guardian since I arrived on Altalusia.”

Aetius arched a brow. He didn’t bother to hide the skepticism in his voice. “Uh huh.” He turned and nudged the blushing colt with a hoof. “Break time’s over, stalwart guardian. Let’s show ‘er some more of yer moves.”

The two stallions stretched their wings as they trotted back onto the tramped down dirt. Pontius glanced back her way, and Rarity fluttered her eyelashes at him, causing him to stumble over his own hooves.

By the time she settled back into her seat, they were in the middle of another bout. Aetius called out taunting tidbits of advice between blows, and Rarity smirked when she realized that Pontius was putting in more effort than before. No doubt he was trying to impress her.

Rarity glanced towards her book, but didn’t pick it up. Even if she wasn’t interested in the martial arts, there was still much she could learn from watching.

“We need a plan.” Twilight paced back and forth across the little ruined kitchen that had become her base of operations. “We have to get back into motion.”

“Oh, taking the initiative at last?” Midnight paused long enough to sink its teeth into the changeling steak before it. “Perhaps I’m finally rubbing off on you.”

“Not too much, I hope.” Midnight’s only answer was a low, amused chuckle.

Twilight started another lap around the room, idly licking the greasy flavor from her lips. She was finally beginning to feel like she had her hooves under her once more, and with that feeling returned the steadily growing sense that she was wasting precious time. What had she done since arriving in Canterlot aside from bouncing between anger, despair, and self-loathing? Equestria still needed her, and she didn’t even know how long she had spent feeling sorry for herself in the pits of its gravestone. Six wakings? Seven? She had neglected to pay attention after eating the first steak, and time had slipped by unnoticed as she had watched Midnight gorge themselves on the rest of the changeling, pausing only to fetch more books from the Archives or prepare the next meal while the previous one digested.

The kitchen had grown clogged with books, leaving only narrow pathways between the rubble and stacked texts. She had raided the Archives for books on magic theory, time travel, changelings, mythology, exotic monsters, mental maledictions and so much more, but to no avail. She had then turned to the court logs, stepping gingerly through the narrow corridors that once housed the castle bureaucrats, and confirmed her fears: the city had been abandoned on the day of the royal wedding, or soon after. There were no records of anything after that.

Now she had run out of food, and it was clear that the Royal Archives held no answers for her. She bit her lip at the thought of all the knowledge that must have been left behind. Would things have turned out differently had the researchers in the Golden Oaks Library had access to all that accumulated knowledge? Perhaps she and her friends could have saved the city, and those texts could have saved the land. Another straw of guilt settled onto her back.

She couldn’t sit still any longer. The very thought of rest was enough to stir a breathy nausea in the back of her throat, but what did she do now?

She closed her eyes, poring through her last memories from the past. Even now it was still a blurry, jumbled mess, brief flashes of emotion and moments all tangled together.

“Princess Celestia!”

Twilight gasped, eyes snapping open as a brief spark of memory returned to her. She turned to see Midnight watching her curiously. It arched a brow.

“I remembered something,” Twilight said. Her horn glowed as she approached one of the collapsed walls, and the heavy stones twinkled under the embrace of her magic. Forming a temporary path through the rubble was a simple task now that she was properly fed.

Midnight was already waiting when Twilight stepped out into the hall. “Care to share, little flower?”

Twilight started down the hall at a brisk trot. She lit the way ahead with a glowing ball of lavender light that cast its glow over the cracked stones and rotten carpet, while a steady series of pings assured her of no danger ahead. Still, she kept her voice low. “The Hall of Unions. That’s where the wedding was being held.”

“And?” Midnight didn’t walk alongside Twilight, instead preferring to simply appear out of the darkness in front of her. Its voice echoed faintly in the distance. “Are you expecting to find something there?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight whispered back. “But it’s all I have.”

“Oh, you know that isn’t true, my dear blossom,” Midnight cooed. “You always have me.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, but otherwise didn’t justify the honeyed words with a response.

It was obvious to any visitor from a glance that Canterlot Castle was a truly massive feat of architecture and engineering, but Twilight had never truly appreciated its size until years into her tutelage there. It was easy to look up at its towering spires and glittering windows in awe, but only the servants, soldiers, and staff ever grew to understand just how expansive it really was. It had taken years for Twilight to memorize the layout, and even the oldest servants could get lost in the abandoned levels deep below.

The Hall of Unions was on the eastern side of the castle, facing the rising sun, and luckily close to the kitchen she had been staying in. It only took her a few minutes to reach it at her pace, and much of that was from backtracking out of blocked paths.

Memories of foalhood came to Twilight as she walked. Even without the bustle that once filled the halls, even with the world reduced to the little circle of lavender she carried with her, she could still recognize it. There was the dining hall where the griffon delegates had been entertained, and there the servant quarters where she had hid from her brother the last time they played hide and seek. But they were dead memories, and not the ones she was looking for, and so she pressed on.

The double doors of the Hall of Unions hung wide open, inviting her in. She sent her orblight before her and it rose up into the arched ceiling, spreading its dim light over the room.

Twilight gasped, raising a hoof to her muzzle.

“Oh, my,” Midnight chuckled. “And I was beginning to wonder whether anyone had ever died in this pitiful castle.”

Pony skeletons, their last hanging strips of flesh hidden behind dented Royal Guard armor and congealed changeling goo, rested side-by-side with the empty, cracked husks of dead changelings. The torn remains of streamers hung alongside gaping changeling pods, their open bellies drooping with age. Black scorch marks stained the walls and floor like arcs of lightning, all converging in a jagged circle next to a tarnished golden tiara adorned with a pale magenta gem.

“Princess Celestia!”

Twilight nearly tripped as she remembered watching her mentor crash to the ground. She remembered the look of triumph on Chrysalis’ face, the sneer in her voice as she crowed her victory over the Princess. She remembered rushing to Celestia’s side, and shivering at the feebleness of her voice.

“The Elements of Harmony. You must get to them.”

Twilight slumped to the floor next to the tiara. She reached out a hoof, but stopped just short of it. Celestia had fallen here, in this very place, just a thousand years ago. She could almost see it still, back when the sun still shone in through the windows and the tiles had been freshly polished

She almost couldn’t bring herself to touch it. It belonged to the Princess. She must have left it behind for a reason.

But no, Celestia wouldn’t have dropped it on the floor to rest askew for a thousand years. Perhaps she was missing it. Looking around, Twilight tore a strip of fabric from an old streamer and wrapped it around the tiara. She pulled it as tight as she dared before forming the cloth into a simple sash and slipping it over her head. The weight of the gold against her chest was oddly comforting.

“Oh, you are just disgusting,” Midnight hissed. “Are we done here?”

Twilight sighed, climbing back to her hooves and glaring at her other half. “We’re going to find the Elements of Harmony. They could still be in the city.”

“You think your ponies would have left their most powerful artifacts behind?” Midnight let the question hang for a few seconds before continuing with a wicked grin. “Well, I suppose maybe if they’re as foolish as you, then perhaps.”

“Do you really have to insult me with every word?” Twilight growled as she turned for the door. She paused to take a closer look at one of the changeling bodies, and noted the lack of monstrous mutations.

“No, but I do so enjoy it,” Midnight said sweetly. “What are friends for, after all?”

Stepping out into the hall, Twilight checked her surroundings before picking a direction. The tiara bounced against her chest with every step. “You’re not my friend. Friends are there to support each other.”

“Ah, yes, and we know that I never do that, do I?” Midnight hovered on the edges of Twilight’s vision, whispering into her ears. “No, for I am the villain! I protect us when we’re in danger, and strike down those who would do us harm, and prevent us from wasting away into bone and fur. No good friend would commit such acts.”

“You take over my body and hurt others against my will,” Twilight countered. If the Elements were still in Canterlot, then they should be stored in the Hall of Relics, which was a separate tower on the Royal Grounds. She would have to brave the open ground outside the castle.

“Tell me, little flower, but what is a good friend to do when they see you on the brink of death?” Midnight snorted, sending a chill down Twilight’s spine as if she had just walked through some phantom wind. “Would a good friend have left you to die to that winged flame, drowning in your own delusions?”

“A good friend wouldn’t have killed Philomena!” Twilight snapped. She stiffened as her sudden outburst echoed through the cavernous chambers of the castle, and for a moment she imagined some ghostly filly running through the corridors, chasing after the phoenix during a study break. Twilight took a deep breath, keeping her voice under control. “A good friend wouldn’t force me to kill.”

“Mm, one day you’ll understand. You’ll thank me for all the times I’ve kept us alive.”

They reached a tall rectangular window, and Twilight paused. She knew that this window would lead her out onto the battlements, and from there she could cross to the tower which held the Hall of Relics, but that would mean going out into the open. She would have to snuff out her light and navigate the wall by feel if she wanted to avoid getting spotted, but then she might fall off.

Midnight’s cackling laughter rang in her ears. “Us, fear the darkness? I could put an end to that foolishness.”

Twilight stiffened, glancing around nervously. She could feel its dark nature tickling at her eyelids. “What are you talking about?”

“Let me make us better, as I have before,” Midnight whispered. “We shouldn’t be lurking in the shadows like prey.”

“No.” Twilight kept her voice firm. “I don’t want you making anymore changes.”

“For now, maybe.”

Flicking her tail in annoyance, Twilight released the magic of her light and plunged herself into total darkness.

For a moment, Twilight felt herself back within the grip of a changeling pod, her limbs swathed in dark resin and her muzzle submerged in the freezing goo. She shook her head, and the sensation passed.

Taking a deep breath, Twilight pushed the window open and crept over the threshold. She was completely deprived of sight without her horn to see by, and so she was forced to slide forwards inch by inch, testing every step for solid ground before taking it. She crouched low at the sound of a dragon roaring in the distance, which was joined seconds later by a chorus of changeling shrieks. A gout of green flame flared up over the rooftops, giving Twilight a brief glimpse of the ruined city silhouetted against its glare before she was forced to tear her eyes, sensitive to light after so long in the dim, away. Spike.

She waited for a few seconds, giving her eyes time to adjust before cracking them open once more. Lashes of flickering green fire cast the city in a harsh light, silhouetting the crooked towers as if against a sickly sunrise. She crouched low, keeping herself hidden behind the crenellations in case any changelings were able to pick her out with the light, and crawled further down the wall. Another dragon roar rocked the city, causing a loose stone dislodge itself somewhere nearby before falling to the ground with a loud crack.

As much as she would have denied it if asked, it was true that she had largely forgotten about Spike since leaving Canterlot. Perhaps forgotten wasn’t the best word, but she’d been so caught up in other things, in the fate of Equestria and her other friends, that she had never found the time to consider him. Now that she was here, however, she had an opportunity.

Whatever affliction had affected the Equestrians before the apocalypse, Spike seemed to have fallen victim to it as well, and with all the advanced magic books in Canterlot, surely she could find some way to cure him. She had books, time, and a robust understanding of the scientific method; no problem could withstand her for long.

The corner of her lips curved up into a little smile at the thought of speaking with her number one assistant again. No doubt he would be distraught at first, but together they could overcome. She could help him come to terms with his new body, and he could tell her everything he knew about what had happened in her absence. Was the tunnel out of Canterlot big enough to fit an adult dragon?

“Getting ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?” Midnight asked. It let out a dramatic sigh. “You don’t even know if you can save him.”

“Of course I can save him,” Twilight whispered back. “I have to.”

The tower that stood guard above the Hall of Relics loomed before her, and she slipped through the door and back into the darkness with a sigh of relief. She lit her horn, finding herself in what she recognized as a break room for guards on patrol. An empty weapon rack lined one wall, and a single armored skeleton rested among the splinters of a broken table and a scattered deck of faded cards. Twilight grimaced as she stepped past it and made for the stairs.

The tower was still mostly whole, and surprisingly so. The stones of the stairwell were spiderwebbed with a lattice of chips and cracks from which sprouted growths of purple algae that crawled over the walls like congealed blood. The growth grew thicker as she descended, and soon Twilight found the solid clopping of her hoofsteps being replaced by the soft squelching of her weight pressing down into the thick mass.

She came to a wooden door, barely recognizable behind the curtain of algae that sealed it shut. She glanced backwards, meeting Midnight’s judging gaze, and brought a spell to mind. It seemed like forever since she had needed to think of her weed-clearing spell, and it took her a few tries to get the shape of it right. A small smile graced her lips as the purple algae dried out, lost its color, and crumbled into a thin dust at her hooves.

“Careful, little flower. This could be the first step on your murderous rampage.”

Twilight snorted. She grabbed the doorknob in her magic, grunting as it resisted her. She narrowed her eyes and applied more pressure, and the door gave with a sound of something damp peeling away. Thick spirals of dust fell in its wake, and Twilight gave them a few seconds to settle before stepping through.

She was in a long hallway, lined with doors on her right side and completely covered in algae. The doors would take her to curtained booths overlooking the Hall, but they were all sealed shut by thick layers of growth.

Twilight felt a wet, wriggling motion around her hooves, and she bit back a startled yelp as she danced backwards, putting more power into her light. She watched, open-mouthed, as the mat of algae slithered forward, reclaiming the ground around the open door.

“What is this?” Twilight asked, taking a calming breath. The algae reached the door, extending tiny tendrils up to grab at it and snail up its surface. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Midnight placed a chilling hoof under her chin, pushing Twilight’s gaze towards the end of the hall. “Perhaps there is the source?”

Twilight frowned. Dispelling her light, she confirmed that there was a purple glow blooming up from what she knew to be the curving staircase that would take her down to the floor of the Hall of Relics. She shot a glare towards Midnight. “Is that you?”

Midnight chuckled, letting out a mirthful sigh. “Surely by now you can tell when I’m touching our magic? No, that glow comes from neither of us.”

Twilight held the glare a second longer, but she knew that it was right. She turned back to the strange light, watching it strengthen and fade almost like some fey heartbeat, and sent a series of pings in its direction. They returned to her distorted, a jumbled mess of meaningless magic, and some didn’t return to her at all.

Twilight grimaced. She shivered at the almost imperceptible sound of the algae growing further up the open door behind her. “What do you think we should do?”

“Ah, looking to me for input now?” Midnight asked, feigning surprise. “Need you even ask? We press onwards. Or would you let a stray firefly keep you from our goals?”

“It could be dangerous.”

“Fret not, little flower. I shall protect us, whether you like it or not.” Midnight took a few steps ahead of her, looking back expectantly. “Are you done quailing at strange lights, or must I drag you to victory myself?”

With a low growl, Twilight pushed her stiff limbs into motion. The algae writhed in complaint underhoof, and she could hear the quiet, slick whispering as it grew over the little scuffs and scrapes she left with every step. A pungent, sickeningly sweet scent drifted into her nostrils, and she had to pause to hold a hoof to her mouth and hold down bile. She cast a simple spell to dampen her sense of smell, frowning at the unexpected difficulty, and carried on. Magic was hanging heavy in the air, thick enough that it was smothering any attempts she made to cast it herself.

A low humming became apparent as she reached the top of the stairwell, throbbing in time with the light. Cautiously, Twilight poked her head around the corner and squinted into the light.

For a moment, Twilight thought the Hall of Relics had somehow come to life. What was once a vast open space of pristine tile and stone was now clogged with tall stalks of rotten wood and writhing vines. She knew the hall consisted of seven vaults, three on each side holding powerful relics of magic history and the one on the far side containing the Elements of Harmony, but they were impossible to see past the dead forest before her. Only one vault was still visible, the massive stones of its walls cracked and collapsed, the source of the brilliant, pale purple glow that filtered through the trees.

She didn’t need carefully trained arcane senses to pinpoint it as the source of the ambient magic. Twilight watched with wide eyes as thick, thorny vines crept out from the compromised vault, the fibrous flesh a pale, translucent white that seemed to catch the purple glow and channel it as a vein carries blood. The vines drooped down beneath the exposed roots of the trees and spread out across the floor of the hall, visible among the shadows only due to the arcane light they carried.

“This is impossible,” Twilight whispered. She could see the trees growing, the pale white saplings pushing through the blanket of detritus, hardening into flaky trunks of wood, and then growing still. The groan of cracking wood filled the room as one of the dead spires began to topple, the weak wood shattering to splinters as it collided with its closest neighbors. “How does all this grow without any sunlight or nutrients?”

“In a place such as this, ‘possible’ takes on strange meaning,” Midnight said. “Let us fetch our trinkets and begone from here. This magic grates against me.”

Twilight looked to Midnight curiously, cocking her head at the strained expression on its face. “Are you okay?”

Midnight bared its fangs at her, but failed to hide its discomfort. “You would regret insulting me further! Return to the matter at hoof.”

Rolling her eyes at the petulant behavior, Twilight turned her attention back to the hall, her eyes scanning every corner in search of danger. The glow of the pale vines stretched out across the room, but drew up just short of the stairways that flanked the main entrance. She watched, mesmerized, as the glowing tendrils slowly danced side to side, arcing out into new directions before fading away like the echo of lightning.

She would have liked to grab a notebook and perched herself there for hours, studying their motions, but Midnight’s impatience picked at her hooves, a palpable force urging her into motion. She came fully around the stairs, descending to the level of the roots, and tested one with a hoof. It crumbled to pieces, staining her fur with its damp remains.

Twilight went to gather her magic, angling herself towards the back of the room for a teleport, but the oppressive aura of the room denied her. Frowning, she eyed the roots nearest her. Some appeared younger, firmer, and there were places where several overlapped into a gnarled, nearly solid mass. If she was careful, it might be enough to hold her weight.

She raised a hoof, tentatively placing it on the nearest such spot, and pressed down. The wood was spongy and soft, but it pushed back instead of falling away. She added another hoof, and then a third. As she raised her last leg off the stone of the stairs, her full weight came to bear, and she screamed as the wood cracked, plunging her into the depths below.

Twilight was drowning. Her whole body was held in place by the wet grip of the changeling pod. She sucked in a breath of air, desperate to fill her lungs before—

Her hooves hit solid ground. The glowing vines crawled along the floor around her, silhouetting the network of roots above. A layer of damp refuse clung to her fur all the way up to her knees, but she was safe.

Behind her, she heard Midnight’s laughter. Her cheeks grew hot, and she rounded on her doppelganger with a righteous fury even as violent shivers wracked her body. “S-shut up! I could have died!”

Midnight smirked back at her. “And yet we remain alive. A thrill, isn’t it?”

Twilight clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from clattering. She turned away from her laughing shadow with a frustrated groan and, hoping to be back on solid stone as soon as possible, began to slosh forwards.

The muck fought back, tugging at her hooves with such force that she was only barely able to catch herself from toppling forwards and splashing face first through the silvery sheen of its surface. With a grunt of exertion she threw her weight forwards, tearing a hoof free with a wet pop.

“Oh, a step. Only a few dozen more and we might get somewhere.”

“I’m not—ungh—enjoying this any more—agh—than you are!” The ground was treacherous, and as much of an ordeal as it was to raise her legs, Twilight then had to deal with finding something solid to stand on without being able to see. She grimaced as she put her weight onto what she had taken for a small rock only to have it crumble underhoof. She hated that she was able to recognize the sensation of crushing a skull beneath her, and hated that she was able to keep going so easily.

She kept an eye on the writhing vines, doing her best to avoid them, but her progress was slow and the glowing tendrils sometimes grew towards her faster than she could get out of the way. They would wrap around her legs with what Twilight imagined to be curiosity, their feeble grip barely noticeable compared to the strength of the tar. The energy channeled through them was enough to make her vision blur and make Midnight hiss with annoyance, but she would power through, setting her jaw and ploughing forwards until her sight cleared once more.

She didn’t know how long it took to reach the back of the hall, but at last Twilight emerged from the roots and looked up to see the towering doors of the Vault of the Elements, the golden designs engraved into the enchanted metal barely visible behind a splotchy layer of purple algae and the brittle grey vines that crawled up its sides even in death. Twilight took a deep breath, allowing herself a moment’s respite after the grueling journey across the hall.

“Now what?” Midnight asked. It stood beside her, regarding the door with idle curiosity.

“The door’s enchanted to only open to Princess Celestia’s touch,” Twilight said. “But after so long, after who knows what’s happened, I might be able to find a way through.”

It was a long shot, for sure. The Princess’ magic had always been far beyond her own, and she could barely even feel anything past the thick arcane fog that filled the room. She lifted a black-coated hoof and went to press it to where she knew the horn-shaped keyhole should be, only for it to pass through the layer of algae without any resistance.

She frowned. “Huh?” She swept her hoof across the door, peeling the algae away and revealing open space where the keyhole should be. She brought her other hoof up, scratching at the door in earnest as her pulse quickened. “Oh, no. No, no, no!”

As she exposed more and more of the door, she began to make out more details. A wide hole, about as wide as she was and three times as tall, had been made through the center. The metal drooped and sagged around its edges as if it had been melted, leaving the Elements exposed to the world at large.

Twilight strained against the muck, pulling herself up through the hole and entering the vault. A stone pedestal waited in the center of the room. Where there should have been a golden box containing the most powerful magic known to ponykind, there was only open space.

Twilight’s legs went weak, and she collapsed back against the half-melted vault door. “The Elements...”

Midnight stepped past her, examining the empty pedestal with disdain. “As if we needed them anyways. Let us leave this place.”

“No!” Twilight shook herself and climbed back to her hooves. She gnashed her teeth, shutting her eyes and drawing on her magic. It resisted her, the magic only just trickling past the thickness that hung around her, but she refused to give in. “Help me!”

Even with her eyes closed, she could clearly see Midnight arching a brow. “So demanding. Where is the meek little flower I’ve come to know?”

Twilight forced the words out through clenched teeth. “Nrgh! I don’t have the energy to spare on your games right now! Please, just help!”

“Well, since you’ve asked so nicely.”

The darkness surged inside her, and Twilight gasped in pain as she finally forced the magic past the barrier surrounding her. Her horn burst into light, allowing her to see even the furthest corners of the raided vault. Squinting through the pain, Twilight saw a second hole in the room, this one bored high up on the far wall. The pain spiked as she poured more power into her horn, focusing her light into a powerful beam aimed straight through the hole.

A path had been melted straight through the back of the room and out into the stuffy air of Canterlot, framing the top of a nearby tower that Twilight immediately recognized. It was the old tower she had stayed in before moving to Ponyville.

Twilight released her magic, gasping as the sharp pain turned into a pulsing ache just behind the base of her horn. She fell to her knees, breathing hard.

She looked up to see Midnight crouching in front of her, its head cocked to the side. “I suppose you want to go there next?”

Twilight managed a shaky nod. “Whoever took the Elements, they must have taken them to my old tower.”

“So it would seem.” Midnight extended a hoof, and Twilight took it, straightening back up with its help. Its fanged smile didn’t reach its eyes. “I’m ready to help, if you require it.”

Twilight huffed as she turned back to the Hall of Relics and the rotten forest. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

Rainbow followed Applejack into the submarine, reached an armored hoof, and closed the hatch behind her. The sound rang through the hull with a sense of finality as she climbed down the ladder and put all four hooves on the gently rocking floor beneath. She raised her voice, turning towards the cockpit. “Hatch shut!”

Star Trails shouted back. “Clamps off!”

The hull lurched from side to side and Rainbow lowered her stance to keep her poise. Sea Sabre’s powerful voice carried easily as she yelled, “Engines!”

There was a burst of steam, and slow ticking sounds began to fill the air. They sped up, overlapping into the same staccato hum to which Rainbow had grown used to falling asleep during the past weeks. The drone of the hull served to calm her nerves as the floor shifted beneath her; they had begun their dive to Canterlot.

Flint stepped in from the little hatch that led to the bridge. Sometimes Rainbow wondered how he even fit. He beckoned towards Applejack as he squeezed past, towards the torpedo room. “Give me a hoof, will ye, Jackie?”

“Sure thing, Flint.” Applejack gave Rainbow a smile and nod before following the larger stallion to the rear of the sub.

Rainbow offered up a weak smile of her own, watching them go before wordlessly turning the opposite direction. Jackie? When had Flint started calling her that?

She had no knowledge concerning the workings of the submarine, and she wasn’t particularly looking for a task to busy herself anyways, so she made for the front compartment, the relatively open space between the control room and the airlock where supplies and equipment could be stored. Closets and cabinets competed for wall space with dials and machinery, the rattling of their contents sometimes interrupted by the sound of venting steam. A pair of thin cloth beds were folded up against the walls, and for a moment Rainbow considered pulling one out to sit on, but decided against it. She’d spent a lot of time in her dive suit in the past few days, and she’d since learned that everything from beds to rocks to trees felt just as hard when her flanks were covered in metal. On the bright side, the custom suits came with a layer of cushioning that kept the discomfort to a minimum as she settled into a corner to wait.

How long had it been since she’d had a moment like this, just herself and her thoughts and the time to indulge them? Most of her time in this future had been defined by a sense of helplessness, and the agitation it spawned when she was made to sit and watch while her friends risked their lives to discover what had happened to their world. She didn’t bother trying to hide her grimace as she thought of all the times she’d paced back and forth in the sub as she listened to Twilight nearly dying at the bottom of the ocean, or being unable to help when monsters threatened the submarine itself.

She remembered the emptiness she’d felt as Gava had carried her around like a sack of hay. The wooden planks of the griffon’s ship were still clear in her mind, the image muddied only by the blurry redness that had clogged her vision back then. She lifted a hoof and tugged at her mane, pulling her rainbow bangs to hang over her eyepatch. Or she hoped they did, at least. It was difficult to tell without a mirror.

She’d been so angry since then, but as she felt the sub dive ever deeper towards the ruins where she hoped to find her lost friend, all she felt was an uneasy trepidation. Her days had been filled with rigorous training ever since the meeting with Crazy Rich, and even at night she was called to assist with the preparations for the second expedition to Canterlot. What little time she’d had to herself was spent eating the custom-ordered meals cooked by the estate chefs before she passed out into deep, dreamless sleep, only to be roused the next dawn by Sea Sabre and marched out to do it all over again.

They had practiced with their dive suits on, submerged in Crazy’s private pools. They had run dozens of laps around his gardens, both armored and not. At the end of each training session, when Rainbow’s whole body ached and she struggled to keep her thoughts together, Sabre had confronted her with new challenges. Rainbow shrugged her shoulders as she felt the bruises sustained when she was made to fight an armored Flintlock with her wings bound to her sides. He had really seemed to enjoy himself that day.

Sometimes she had wondered whether it was punishment for getting Crazy to send Sabre’s team back into the ruins where they had nearly died, but she didn’t dare ask. Maybe it really was just Sabre preparing her for the dive as she’d said. It seemed unlike the stern pegasus to hold a grudge like that, but then Rainbow had only known her for a few weeks.

Now at last Rainbow was free to think, and even with the mental exhaustion she’d accumulated she couldn’t bring herself to relax. If it came to it, could she take Twilight down? It wasn’t a question of ability—she was Rainbow Dash, after all—but of heart. Was it more loyal to end a friend who had lost herself to the corruption that had taken Equestria, or to let oneself be struck down trying to redeem her? There was a part of Rainbow that hoped that she would never find Twilight, that she’d never have to confront the question. Her wings twitched within their armored shells, and she wondered how much longer it would be.

She looked up as Applejack stepped into the compartment. The cowpony cocked her head. “Ya feelin’ alright, RD?”

Rainbow snorted, forcing a grin. “Pfft, of course! Why, you nervous?”

Applejack sat down next to her with a concerned frown. “Rainbow, y'all know I can tell when there’s somethin’ botherin’ ya, right?”

Rainbow rolled her eye and looked away. “I’m fine, AJ. Just a little tired is all.”

“Uh huh.”

Seconds passed, and Applejack said nothing. Rainbow kept her gaze on the opposite wall, knowing that the truth would be out if she met her friend’s eyes, and tried to look bored. She pursed her lips as she felt a feather out of place, and she realized she wouldn’t be able to fix it until she got out of her suit. After just a few minutes, she could already feel her defenses cracking.

Applejack cleared her throat as if to say something, but Rainbow couldn’t hold herself back any longer. “Do you think we’ll have to kill Twilight?”

After a few seconds, Applejack spoke. Her voice was soft. “Now why would you be thinkin’ some wild thing like that, sugar cube?”

“Twilight had to kill Owloysius,” Rainbow said, still looking away. “Philomena, too. Spike tried to kill us. It just seems like—y’know.” She bit her lip. “Like there’s only one way out.”

Applejack sighed, leaning over to comfort Rainbow with her weight. “Rainbow, Twilight’s a clever filly. She wouldn’t let somethin’ like that happen.”

“She wouldn’t let it, no.” Rainbow’s voice cracked as she leaned into her friend. “But what if she doesn’t get a choice?”

Silence. Hesitantly, Rainbow turned to face Applejack, and saw that she wasn’t the only one with redness in her eyes. Applejack gave a small, lopsided smile. “She’s always got a choice.”

Rainbow sniffled, giving a little nod. “Yeah.”

“Hey, you guys ready?”

Rainbow jumped, her heart skipping a beat as Star Trails’ voice suddenly came from her blind side. She turned sharply to face the unicorn. “Wh-what?”

“Oh, hay, my bad.” Trails offered an apologetic smile before continuing. “Helmets on in ten. We’ve reached the tunnel.”

Rainbow stood up, meeting Applejack’s gaze with a deep breath. “We’ll be ready.”

“Right on,” Trails said. Her hooves clanged against the floor as she stepped out of the room.

Rainbow held out a hoof, and Applejack took it. The two mares shared a clunky hug.

We’re coming, Twilight.

Author's Notes:

Funny how much a familiar place can change if you leave it be for a while. Does the same hold true for familiar friends?

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V: Of Memories

Twilight hunched low to the stones underhoof as a dragon roar rolled over the city like distant thunder. She dimmed her hornlight, all too aware of how exposed she was from the tower steps, and looked towards the source of the noise. Whips of green fire silhouetted the dead city like an ethereal sunrise. Twilight turned to the door of her old tower, picked out the shape of the handle in the flickering light, and slipped inside.

The door shut behind her with a soft click. Looking up, Twilight could still see that the roof was missing; she could still see the glow of the fire blooming over the highest reaches of the walls, though the interior remained swathed in shadows.

For several seconds Twilight stood there in the darkness, feeling the stale air around her. It was thick and heavy, almost like a blanket, and she let it wrap around her in the same way she had hidden under her sheets as a filly, afraid of the monsters that might attack from the dark of her bedroom. Strangely enough, Twilight now found herself more afraid of what she’d see in the light.

Midnight was watching her, but it didn’t deride her with harsh words as she had expected. Perhaps it held some reserved respect for this space as well.

Taking a deep breath, Twilight lit her horn.

In some ways, the tower was just as she remembered it. The walls of books she had left behind remained on their shelves, and all her reading cushions and book pedestals were arranged as she had left them. The great curved window that once faced the Equestrian landscape was now shattered, the golden arms that had supported the glass curled outwards like a broken ribcage, but the hourglass centerpiece still stood tall. Twilight could almost believe that the room had travelled to the future with her, waiting patiently for her return.

But although the ravages of time had taken little, it was the things added in her absence that sent a chill down Twilight’s spine. A heap of glittering gold and silver loot was piled next to the broken window, the treasure too dulled with time to catch her lavender light as it would have centuries ago. Dark, chitinous bodies lingered in disjointed piles around the pile, and Twilight’s nose twitched at the old scent of cooked changeling that hung in the air, causing her mouth to water.

“Ah, it seems we’ve stumbled upon the dragon’s lair,” Midnight mused. “It seems your darling Celestia’s enchantments failed to withstand the wrath of a determined firebreather.”

“Spike took the Elements?” Twilight frowned as she approached the treasure pile, cutting a wide berth around the bodies. She glanced to the side and saw her first copy of Predictions and Prophecies resting on a stand, its pages open to the legend of Nightmare Moon. “But how? There’s no way a baby dragon could have burned through that door.”

Midnight, seated atop the riches with hooves crossed, chuckled as the faraway sound of changeling shrieks and dragon fury drifted past. “Your pet hasn’t been a baby dragon for a long time, little flower.”

“He’s not my pet,” Twilight said, lifting a hoof to sift through the pile. Would she have to dig through it all to find the Elements?

“Then what is he?”

Twilight stiffened, her hoof falling back to the ground. Spike was many things to her in many ways. He was a little brother, a colleague, a confidant, a friend, and sometimes she even found herself thinking of him as a son. She had hatched him, after all, raised him from birth and been with him through every challenge and achievement he’d ever faced—until she wasn’t.

There was only one phrase that encompassed all of her relationships with the earnest baby dragon she remembered. Twilight’s voice hitched when she spoke, pouring the ache in her chest across her mental bond with Midnight.

“He’s my number one assistant.”

The words seemed to hang in the air, lingering as if loath to leave the home where they had once been spoken so often, and Twilight found herself staring unseeing at the riches before her. As her hoof brushed lightly over golden goblets and silver spoons, she thought instead to bright mornings, to meals cooked in earnest love and shared with smiles around a simple wooden table, to the scent of flowers carried on the breeze as books were read and notes were taken by a quill held in tiny claws, to lists long enough to sprawl out on the ground and the excited grin of a young dragon ticking off the third box next to each item.

Hot tears traced the curves of Twilight’s cheeks. It had been so long since she’d had pancakes.

Looking up, she saw Midnight watching her with a tight frown. She braced herself for the usual jab, but it only looked away with a quiet, “I see.”

Twilight sighed, shaking her head. She had to remain focused, at least until she made it back to her safe room in the castle. Her horn hummed as she turned her attention to the hoard in front of her and began to probe it with her magic. Precious metals, gemstones, even a few trinkets enchanted with minor spells, but the Elements of Harmony were conspicuously absent. She turned away from the pile, expanding her search to the rest of the tower, and her breath caught as she picked up on the powerful energy radiating from a room on the upper level. Her old bedroom.

Twilight looked to Midnight, but her befanged shadow only stared back impassively. She began up the stairs, hooves shaking as a pit of trepidation formed in her stomach and ears flattening back at the sound of the old wood complaining. The steps had been scuffed by heavy weights dragged across long ago.

Cresting the steps, she approached her bedroom door. It was banded in iron, the chipped paint only clinging on in narrow strips, and as Twilight peered closer she realized that the door had been melted into the frame. It stood steadfast when she raised a hoof to push against it, but she did feel something carved on its surface. She lowered her hoof and brightened her horn, picking out the word hastily engraved into the wood with slanted, jagged script. Twilight.

Pausing to take a few deep breaths, Twilight teleported herself to the other side.

She appeared in her old bedroom with the crack of magic and the fluttering of disturbed paper. The air was stale, smelling of old books and lost time. Twilight’s eyes passed over the room quickly, taking in the bookmarked notebook on her rotting desk and the gold-encrusted chest that rested at the foot of her bed, but they didn’t linger there. Instead her attention was drawn to the bed, where six Royal Guard helmets were carefully displayed, each one standing watch over a full set of armor arranged on the floor beneath it. The sets were broken and dented, in places stained with the memory of blood both red and green, and some were missing pieces.

Twilight’s throat tightened, a hoof rising to her muzzle, as she saw the badge strapped to the breastplate in the center, shaped like a shield and emblazoned with the image of a six pointed starburst. Her family crest.

She approached the armor with leaden hooves, vision blurring with fresh grief. Picking up the helmet and peering inside, she was just able to make out the words stamped into the metal in blocky, official font. Captain Shining Armor.

Twilight let out a shaky moan as she clutched the helmet to her chest and broke down into sobs. Of course she had known that her brother was long dead, and she still remembered the tears she had shed for him when she and her friends had first escaped Canterlot. She had cried for him as she had cried for the rest of her family, but she had buried the grief deep, deep beneath and thrown herself completely into the quest of fixing Equestria, of saving it from its future.

In truth, she had never truly stopped to consider what she was trying to do. She pored over books and explored ancient ruins, never giving herself time to rest, because to rest would be to think, and if she gave herself time to think then she might never recover. She had been running from her sorrow like a pony fleeing a timberwolf, too frightened to look back or to look where she was going, and now she had collided headfirst with an unavoidable and very visceral reminder that almost everyone she had ever loved was dead.

“Why are you crying, little flower?”

Twilight looked up. Midnight frowned down at her, its brow furrowed with thought. “M-my BBBFF.” Her lip trembled as she stroked the helmet under her chin.

“We have known him to be dead,” Midnight said, its head cocked. “Why is it only now that you mourn?”

Twilight shook her head as she peered down into the helmet, imagining her brother’s smile. “I—I don’t know! I g-guess I had h-h-hoped it had been easy, but—” She grimaced at the jagged gaps that had been punctured through her brother’s armor, and found herself unable to force the words past the tightness in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to push away the images of him lying on the ground, still as death, the last drops of his life seeping out through his wounds.

“He was a warrior. He died a warrior’s death.”

“W-what would you know of it?” Twilight snapped. “You’ve n-never even b-been outside of my head!”

“With every hour, I glimpse more of our memories,” Midnight said. It paused, and Twilight could feel it choosing its next words with care. “Shining Armor would not have protested a death protecting those he was charged to defend.”

Twilight clenched her jaw as hot anger surged through her, overcoming her tears. “You’ll n-never understand, will you?” She opened her eyes, setting the helmet back into place before standing up on shaky hooves. “How could you ever understand what it’s like to lose someone? You’re just a—” she licked her lips, searching for the right word to convey her malices “—a construct, words and hatred spawned by this dark magic in my head, and you have no right to talk about any of my friends!”

She rounded on Midnight, and it regarded her with cold silence from where it lay with forelegs crossed on her bed. Twilight let out a deep-throated groan as she turned away, approaching her old desk and the notebook that waited on its surface.

It was familiar to her; Princess Celestia had gifted her the day planner as a housewarming gift after her first Summer Sun Celebration in Ponyville, lightly enchanted to survive the rigorous use that all of Twilight’s scheduling implements were put through, and she had used it every day since. She had brought it with her to Canterlot for the wedding, and it hadn’t even been half filled at the time, so the bookmark placed in the back of the book was unexpected. Her hoof was shaking so heavily that she could barely get a grip on the cover, and so she used her magic to flip it open to the marked page.

“Shining Armor is dead. It’s my fault.”

The script was instantly recognizable to her, even with the jittery edges and faded ink. Spike had written this. Pausing to wipe away the tears still budding in her eyes, Twilight read on.

“I hid when they evacuated Canterlot. I knew that you were still in the city somewhere, being held captive by those monsters, and I thought that maybe I could find you. I could save you. I guess it was stupid of me to think that I could do what nopony else could. I’m so stupid.”

“Oh, Spike.” Twilight looked away, clutching at her chest, and saw Midnight watching.

“He was a fool.”

“He was just a child!” Twilight shot back. She sighed and turned back to the page. “He didn’t know any better.”

“I don’t know how long it’s been. I can’t tell time with this giant dome over the city, and the clock fell off the wall and broke during the invasion. Shining Armor arrived a few days ago, I think. He brought some guards with him to look for you. He says that there’s some dark magic taking over Equestria, turning ponies violent. I told him about how the changelings have started fighting each other. He says that Celestia has a plan. She misses you.”

“The whelp survived here all alone?” Midnight let out a quiet grunt. “Weak of mind and body, but strong of heart.”

“The guards aren’t as good at hiding as I am. They’re too big, and their armor is loud. The changelings followed us back to the tower. Shining told me to hide, and made me promise not to come out no matter what, or who, I heard.”

Twilight couldn’t control her shaking. Old water stains marred the paper, and it was all too easy for her to imagine the little dragon squirreled away in some dark corner, listening to the sounds of ponies dying just feet away. She should have been there. Why couldn’t she have been there for him?

“I’m not sure how long I waited. When I came out again, I was the only one left. When it got quiet out, I buried the bodies in the garden and put their armor out of the way. It didn’t feel right to just leave them there. I still wish I could have done more.”

The letters began to slant harder, almost running into each other like the members of a panicked crowd rushing to escape a confined space.

“I’m not even sure if you’ll ever read this. I don’t like the idea of writing a letter to you, because it makes me feel like maybe I won’t be able to see you again. I don’t know. I miss you, Twilight. I’m sorry I couldn’t do better.

“Shining brought some papers with him. It didn’t feel right for me to look at them, but I left his saddlebags under the bed. Maybe you’d like to read them.

“I love you, Twilight. I hope I’ll find you soon.”

Violent sobs rocked Twilight’s body as she reached the end of the letter. She frantically turned the page and let out a shuddering sigh of relief when she saw more words, and she devoured them just as quickly. Page after page passed underhoof, Twilight unable to look away even as each letter, each adventure described to her, each near-death experience written about with uneven lines and each lonely self-reflection inscribed with carefully measured script tore at her worse than any monster she’d ever faced.

Small moments of light broke through the darkness, and she couldn’t help but smile sadly when Spike talked about all the books he read during the empty hours between hiding, fighting, and exploring the ruins, sharing his thoughts on how she might feel about them. She watched him grow up across the steam of letters, watched him grow ever more convinced that he was truly the only one left and ever more callous in his dealings with the changelings. It was a lifetime’s worth of letters to her, and by the time she reached the final letter, her throat tight with the apprehension of saying goodbye, she was all out of tears.

“I’m losing myself, Twilight. It’s this darkness that’s corrupted Equestria, I’m sure of it. The changelings have all turned into monsters, or perhaps beasts would be a better word. It’s affecting me, too. Sometimes I wake up, my memories slipping through my mind like sand, with changeling bodies around me and a fire in my chest. My claws are long now, and my wings wide, and they give me a wide berth. Only Chrysalis, or what little of her still remains in that body, will still face me. Both of our bodies bear the scars of our many conflicts.

“I considered leaving you, as much as it shames me to admit it. I felt that I needed the company of ponies, some break from this dark place, before I become like them. I was barely able to fit into the tunnel that Celestia burned through the mountain when they evacuated the city, but there is nothing but water at the end. I could not reach the bottom, and I can hold my breath for a long time. It seems that we are trapped here, together. There are worse fates.

“I hear a voice in my head, Twilight. It whispers sinister things, but I shall not give in. So long as I can hear my own thoughts, I will remain myself.”

A cold chill ran down Twilight’s spine. She read the line again, searching for some other interpretation, but there was no way around it; Spike had become a victim of the same dark magic that was plaguing her now.

“Still, I’m old enough to know that sometimes things don’t go the way we wish. With some effort, I have managed to remove the Elements of Harmony from their vault. I’ve placed them in your bedroom, along with these last words to you, and sealed the door shut. I can only hope that my draconic instincts won’t lead me to them again, should I find myself lacking the rational thought to restrain them.

“After so long, it feels silly for me to still be writing to you. But… if you are out there, if you do find these words, don’t blame yourself. None of this is your fault, Twilight. I’m sure you did everything you could.

“Your number one assistant, Spike.”

Midnight scoffed. “He no longer believed you were there, and yet still he wrote to you like a foal to their imaginary companion. Weak of mind to the end.”

Twilight felt too empty inside to offer any rebuttal. She stooped over the old planner staring at the last blotches of ink stained into the paper next to old singes and water marks. There was a dragon still roaming Canterlot, bestial and deadly, and she wasn’t sure who it was anymore. What she did know was that she held Spike’s last words to her, and he had written them with a mature acceptance that felt alien compared to the little dragon she had raised.

She flipped between the first and last letters, comparing the differences in diction. How long had he spent among the ruins, scrounging out what he needed to survive as the changelings mutated from an occupying force into a pack of beasts? His writing had become so well developed even with nobody else to speak to, and she thought of him spending long nights in her tower, reading every book on the shelves in an attempt to drive off the same lonely apprehension that haunted Twilight.

Closing her eyes, she ran a hoof over the coarse edges of the page that seemed to have been blackened by heat. She pictured a purple dragon—a true dragon, no hatchling—hunched over a desk, the sharp edges of its green spines brushing against the ceiling as it delicately cradled a quill between two claws. Its scales were thick like armor, bearing the marks of many battles, and its tail was like a living mace that idly swayed side to side. Its nose was long and angular and dotted with small horns, and its breath was so hot that the paper blackened and curled underneath as it snorted at a clever thought. She frowned as she tried to see her Spike inside it.

It looked up, meeting her eyes, and smirked at her. Twilight couldn’t help but smile at the imagined sight. Yes, there he was.

When she opened her eyes again, Twilight felt strangely better. Maybe it was just the exhaustion of crying, or maybe it was the knowledge that, no matter what else happened, Spike never blamed her. She turned to Midnight, who was eyeing her with an arched brow.

“Are you done with your… emotions?”

“For now, mostly, I think so.” Twilight shook her head, bemused. “Are they really so strange to you?”

“Yours are, as you find mine,” Midnight said. “I don’t understand why you waste so much time remembering things that ended long ago.”

“Because if I didn’t, then I might forget.” Twilight crouched low and peered under her bed, using her magic to drag the saddlebags out from underneath. She spent a moment looking at the starburst crest embroidered on each bag. “And they deserve better than that.”

She flipped each bag open in turn. Old rations as hard as rock, canteen filled with something strong-smelling, compass, map, notebook, and maintenance supplies. She discarded most of it before slipping the old day planner with Spike’s last words next to the notebook inside and strapping the bags to her barrel.

Finally, she brought her attention to the gem-encrusted chest at the foot of her bed containing the Elements of Harmony. She ran a hoof over the rainbow of gems set beneath the latch, watching the way they caught the lavender light of her horn, and opened the box.

Twilight let out the breath she had been holding when she saw the Elements inside. Even up to the last moment, there was a part of her that had expected them to be absent, and for her to be sent on another harrowing trek across the city or beyond in search. Now, at last, something was going her way.

“These are powerful artefacts.” Midnight walked a slow circle around the box, leaning in close to inspect each Element in turn. “We will truly be unbeatable with these in our grasp. What shall we do with them?”

“We’ll save Equestria. We’ll make things right again.” The lavender aura of Twilight’s magic wrapped around the tiara at the front of the set, and an ethereal scream cut through her mind.

“Agh!”

Twilight’s vision went white as a lance of pain stabbed at her skull. Dizziness overcame her, and when she was finally able to think again she found herself lying on the ground in pitch darkness with a pounding ache at the base of her skull. Twilight clenched her jaw, ignored the pain, and lit her horn once more.

Midnight hissed at her as it drew back into the shadows at the corners of the room. It was little more than a fanged mouth and bloodshot eyes. “Are you trying to kill us, foal?!”

“That—ngh—wasn’t supposed to happen.” Twilight grunted as she climbed back to her hooves and eyed the open box. The Elements of Harmony remained inside, apparently undisturbed.

A cold pit formed in Twilight’s gut as she formed a probing tendril of magic and brushed it against the Element of Magic. She flinched back with a yelp at the jolt of pain that raced down her horn, reinforced by Midnight’s pained growl.

“It rejects us! Leave it be!”

Twilight fell to her knees in front of the box. She lifted a hoof as if to touch it, but drew up short. “But—why?”

Twilight’s ears twitched at the distant sound of heavy wingbeats. Her head snapped around and her eyes zeroed in on the sealed door as the wingbeats grew louder and louder until each one made the room shudder with its weight. The tower groaned in complaint as a great mass landed in the main room, the sound followed soon after by the scraping of sharp claws against the wood and the crackling snorts of a firebreather. For a long minute Twilight sat frozen against the ground, ears swiveling at every petrifying sound from beyond the bedroom door, before finally she wrested her eyes away and met Midnight’s gaze.

“What do we do?” Twilight whispered.

Midnight scoffed. “We shan't let a dragon impede us, ancient or not. Ready yourself for battle.”

“No!” Twilight hissed. “I won’t hurt him! We can take the Elements and teleport out.”

“The same Elements that burn us every time our magic touches them?”

Twilight blinked. “No, no, no!” Muttering under her breath, she began to gingerly wrap the Elements in her magic, but the feedback was too much. Closing the box, she let out a breath of relief when she was able to levitate it without pain, but the Elements resisted her when she tried to form a teleportation spell. She gnashed her teeth and poured more power into the spell, lighting the room with a sparkling kaleidoscope of lavender energy, but no matter what she tried, the Elements remained steadfast.

Twilight went limp with an exhausted groan. Why wouldn’t they let her touch them? Of all the things to refuse her, why?

From outside the room Twilight heard a rumbling snort. She stiffened, slowly turning around to face the door. A chill silence hung over the room.

The snort came again, this time accompanied by the rush of flame. A dull red glow formed in the center of the door, growing steadily larger and brighter.

Spike the dragon had returned home, and Twilight had nowhere to run.

“Spread out. Delta formation. Trails, take point.”

The quiet splashing of the submarine bobbing in the water drifted behind Rainbow Dash as she took her spot on the left trailing edge of the formation, quickly drowned out by the overlapping echoes of armored hoofsteps. Five pale beams of illumination danced ahead of the party, jittering like nervous fairies with each step as they pulled the world out of the pitch-black night of Canterlot. She glanced to her right, to Applejack’s position on the far side of the formation, but her old friend was nearly invisible to her. If not for the light cast from the cowpony’s shoulder and the dim glow of her helmet’s visor, it would be impossible to pick her out of the darkness.

Rainbow suppressed a shiver as she turned her attention forwards once more. In spite of all her previous efforts, this was the first time she had left the relative safety of the submarine, and the experience was enough to make her heart quicken all on its own. She had grown used to half of her world being taken by void, but now she had even less. The armor dulled nearly every sound into quiet vibrations that left her breath ringing like thunder in her ears, and the cone of light cast from her shoulder was barely wide enough to fill what little space she could see past her helmet.

Rainbow had never coped well with small spaces. Sometimes even her old home in Ponyville had been too small for her, but she had always been free to spread her wings and take flight in those days. Now she was trapped in this coffin of metal, and although the armor allowed her to stretch her wings, she was acutely aware of the stiff cast that encased them. Why hadn’t Twilight ever warned her about this?

What would happen if she just stopped walking? Would the others even notice if she shut her light off and fell behind, or would she be left alone in the dark, isolated, waiting for the dead air to consume her?

She jumped at the crack of static in her ear, followed by Sea Sabre’s voice. “Hold here.”

They had reached the edge of the city. Star Trails and Flintlock each crouched low, watching different directions, while Sabre hunched over a bundled up shape on the ground. As Rainbow came closer, she identified it for what it was: a changeling corpse, the cracked pieces of its shell hanging limply around its hollowed frame.

Applejack stepped up to Rainbow’s side. “Y’all see something?”

Sabre nodded. She flipped a piece of chitin over, shining her light on the last strips of meat inside. “See these teeth marks? Flat, like a pony’s teeth.”

Heat rose in Rainbow’s breast, and she couldn’t keep the accusatory tone out of her voice when she spoke. “What are you trying to say? You think Twilight did this?”

Sabre shrugged as she straightened up. “I can only make observations and state my knowledge, and I know that changelings don’t have any flat teeth. It’s best that we keep moving.” She looked between Applejack and Rainbow Dash. “Do you have any ideas as to where we should look first?”

Rainbow exchanged a glance with Applejack. “I, uh, don’t really know my way around the city that well.”

“I’m afraid I ain’t too familiar with it, either,” Applejack said. “I reckon she’d head for a library, or maybe her folk’s old home. Somewhere she’d feel safe.”

“Aren’t ye two supposed t’ be from here?” Flint grumbled.

Rainbow snorted, turning to glare at his back. “I’m from Cloudsdale, Flint. I’ve only been to Canterlot twice, and the second time was when the changelings attacked.”

“Why don’t we try the castle first?” Applejack stepped between the two, her tone diplomatic. “Twilight seemed to feel pretty cozy there, and at least we know how to get there.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Sabre said. “We’ll see if we find any more clues along the way.”

“Or some salvage,” Flint groused. “Sure as hay didn’t find any last time.”

Trails chuckled over the radio as she stood up and began leading the way, the white spiral of her suit’s horn glowing softly. “Oh, give it a rest, Flint.”

With the decision made, the five ponies slipped back into formation and pressed deeper into the ruins. Rainbow played her light over the buildings on either side of the cracked street, peering past the broken windows and empty door frames and trying to imagine how they had looked in their prime. She had never known Canterlot as much more than a silhouette in the sky, and at this point she had spent nearly as much time traversing its ruins as she had navigating its streets under the light of the sun, dodging ponies that pranced past her with their noses turned up in disdain.

“So have we got a plan for if we find Twilight?” Star Trails asked as she led them between the two halves of a collapsed building. A faded sign hung askew from the front, depicting an ecstatically grinning pony pointing at the broken end.

“We assess her for any symptoms of wyrd corruption,” Sabre said. “If she remains open to peaceful negotiation, then we’ll bring her in. Otherwise, we’ll terminate her.”

“Whoa, what?” Rainbow sped up, cutting in front of Sabre. “Terminate her? Bring her in? What are you talking about?”

“She’s a threat, Rainbow,” Sabre said, stepping around her. “To herself and others. Even if she agrees to come back to Heighton, I’m not going to let her roam around my ship unwatched.”

Applejack cleared her throat, drawing their attention. “What’s all this ‘wyrd’ business y’all’re goin’ on about, anyways?” she asked. “I know ya said Owloysius was one of ’em, but I admit I still don’t quite know what it means.”

“It’s the handy-dandy catch-all term for anything that’s been corrupted by the ocean,” Trails explained. “We use it for all the ugly odds and ends that you’re bound to come across if you dive deep enough, long enough.”

“There’s a few stories about ponies turnin’ in t’ wyrds,” Flint added. He kept his gun pointed at the ruins as he slowly scanned the windows. “Never put much stock in ‘em, but yer friend seems t’ fit.”

“Hang on, so y’all’re tellin’ me that ya never seen somethin’ like this before?” Applejack asked. “Are y’all just as lost as we are?”

All five ponies crouched down as a thunderous dragon roar passed over the city, dislodging loose stones around them and making Rainbow’s teeth chatter. She looked up towards the source, narrowing her eye in a vain attempt to pierce the darkness. “What was that?”

“Dragon,” Flint said. “Definitely th’ dragon.”

A purple star suddenly burst into being atop a distant tower, the slim structure glowing like a giant torch rising up out of the shadowed city beneath. Lashes of green fire flared up past the shattered top of the tower, and the twinkling purple star was thrown out into the open air with a shower of rubble and a distinctive feminine scream.

“Twilight!” Rainbow took a step forward, her wings flaring as if to take off, but the armor weighed her down. She could only watch as a massive purple dragon soared out of the tower and dove down after the light, spewing a torrent of green fire from its maw.

A chorus of changeling calls raced around the city, some barely audible howls in the distance while others seemed to come from right on top of them. Rainbow glanced behind her at the sound of scrabbling hooves and caught a glimpse of a dark form jumping towards her. She cried out and instinctively lashed out with a wing. The changeling shrieked as the hardened spike on her wing joint collided with its skull and it fell to the ground with a thud, perfectly still.

Flint’s repeater spat fire as he stopped another changeling dead in its tracks. “Looks like dear ’Light woke up th’ whole damn city!”

“Ah, horseapples!” Applejack cursed as she twisted in place, eschewing the shotgun at her side and opting to instead buck the changeling that pounced her with both hind legs. It crumpled like a sack of potatoes, letting out a wheezy hiss. “Twilight needs us, y’all!”

“Stay together, ponies!” Sabre barked. “Trails, find us a route to that tower!”

“Got it, boss!” The tinkle of Star Trails’ magic was barely audible under the commotion as her javelin zipped through the air, spearing changelings in the chest before pulling back for another blow. The white lining around her horn glowed as she angled her head towards the tower before jumping into motion. “Follow me!”

Rainbow’s heart pounded in her ears as she followed after the unicorn. The hissing of changelings and the stomping of hooves seemed to chase her as she raced through the ruins of Canterlot, growing ever closer to the sound of the dragon’s wrath.

For a moment, Twilight was in free fall. She tumbled through the air, the chest containing the Elements clutched with all four hooves, eyes squeezed shut and mind focused solely on the life-preserving orb of magic around her.

Her panicked screaming cut off with a grunt as she collided with something solid, and it was all she could do to hang onto the pain in her horn as she bounced off. She shoved every sensation aside but that pain, her beacon in the whirlwind of confusion, and with it as her bulwark she held the spell together. She couldn’t even remember why she needed it anymore. All she had left was the terrified, animal instinct to survive.

“Get up.” Midnight’s harsh voice cut through the blinding pain, pulling her back to the shores of consciousness. “Get up, damn you!”

Twilight blinked her eyes open. Midnight was standing over her, its bloodstained face framed by the jagged remains of a shattered roof. She groaned as she forced herself off the hard floor with shivering legs, flinching in alarm when the Elements’ chest fell to the ground with a loud clatter.

Thunder roared overhead, and it wasn’t until a loose pebble bounced off Twilight’s muzzle that she remembered her situation. Her heart skipped a beat as she scooped the Elements into her magic and frantically scanned her surroundings in search of escape. “Oh, no, oh, no!”

“Eyes forward, foal!” Twilight’s head turned of its own accord, looking up at the hole she had fallen through just as a clawed hand as large as her entire body tore the rest of the roof away. Green fire rushed towards her, and Twilight could only watch in shock as Midnight appeared in front of her, brandishing an arcane shield. The inferno splashed around the glittering lavender barrier like a wave breaking on the coast, sweeping past her close enough to singe her fur.

The fire broke, and Midnight roared back at the fearsome dragon peering down at them, the shield shattering and reforming into a lance of energy. With a gasp, Twilight re-asserted control, holding the attack back. “Stop! You’ll hurt him!”

“Let us go, you suicidal idiot!” Midnight rounded on Twilight with fire in its eyes, fangs bared with fury. At the same time, the deadly bludgeon that was Spike’s tail came crashing through the wall, and Twilight shrieked as she threw herself to the side.

The stones groaned in complaint at the punishment, and Twilight’s stomach lurched at the sensation of the floor sliding underneath her. Realizing that the building was beginning to collapse, she scooped up the Elements in her magic and raced for the nearest window. She let out a strangled cry as she leapt through the frame, plummeting a dozen feet to the street below as the falling structure kicked up a choking cloud of dust.

“What are you doing, little flower?!” Midnight spat. Twilight scrambled off the ground, coughing with one hoof held to her muzzle as her sneering shadow approached her. “You’re going to get us both killed!”

“We can’t hurt him!” Twilight shot back. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing!”

“I know what he’s doing! He’s trying to kill us!”

“No, it’s the corruption! My Spike is still in there—”

A powerful gust of wind blew through the street, nearly throwing her off her hooves as it carried the cloud of dust away. Twilight and Midnight both looked up to watch Spike land heavily on the cracked cobblestones in front of them, the darkness fleeing in terror as small gouts of green flame burst from his nostrils. His deep, rumbling growl was so powerful that Twilight felt as if her eyes were about to shake out of her skull, and a cloud of thick purple magic seeped from his eyes as they darted between the two mares.

Twilight’s eyes widened. “He can see us! He sees both of us!”

“Finally, I can speak to something on my own terms.” Midnight stepped forwards, its legs spread and its back straight. “Stand down, creature! I will not hesitate to end you!”

Spike snarled at it, lunging forwards with jaw stretched wide. Midnight’s horn flashed brilliant lavender just as his teeth went to snap closed around it, and he reared back with a howl of pain.

Twilight gaped at the exchange in shock. She could feel her magic twisting about unbidden, feel her limbs moving of their own accord, even as she stood back and watched from a few steps away. Her blood went cold as she realized that she was losing control of her own body, and Spike could be the one to pay for it if she didn’t stop it soon.

She stomped her hooves against the ground, putting as much command into her voice as she could muster. “Stop!”

She blinked, and now it was her standing in front of Spike’s towering form. He glowered down at her as Midnight hissed furiously in her ears. “If you won’t let me strike at the beast, at least don’t stop me from defending ourselves!”

Spike lashed out with a claw, and Twilight raised a hasty shield. The shield shattered on impact, sending her tumbling down the street with a cry of pain. A weak groan escaped her as she rolled clumsily onto her hooves, blinking past the blood dripping in her eyes to watch Spike stalk towards her. The blow had thrown her nearly to the end of the street.

“Twilight! Hang on!”

Twilight frowned, confused. Rainbow Dash? She looked behind her, and her heart sank.

Rainbow practically fell to the ground at Twilight’s side, one armored hoof reaching out to touch at her lost friend’s bloodied face. She couldn’t keep her voice from cracking as she pushed the words out past her grin. “We found you!”

Twilight stared back at her with wide eyes, her jaw hanging loose, and Rainbow’s grin faltered as she noticed the pointed fangs framing the unicorn’s mouth. After several seconds, Twilight seemed to regain her bearings. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“What do you mean?” Rainbow asked. She tried to pull her into a hug, but Twilight danced away. “We came looking for you!”

Twilight jumped as the rest of the dive team finally caught up, their armored hooves kicking up a small cloud of dust. “No, no, no. I’m s-supposed to be alone!”

Sea Sabre galloped past them, Star Trails and Flintlock fanning out to either side of her and forming a line between them and the growling dragon as she barked orders over the radio. “Flint, load the hornbane rounds.”

“Ah, I love it when ye let me shoot th’ expensive ones!”

“Trails, find me a weak spot.”

“Already looking, Boss. Looks like an old wound on his rear right leg that isn’t healed right.”

“Rainbow, keep that mare under control.” Sabre glanced back for just a moment before turning her attention back to Spike, steam hissing from her armor as a port opened on her shoulder. He flared his wings in response, matching the sound with a hiss of his own. “We’ll handle the dragon.”

“What are they doing?” Twilight asked, stepping towards them. She grimaced, nearly falling over, and her next words came out in a harsh sneer. “Too weak to stand, little flower?”

Applejack stepped in front of her, lending a shoulder to catch her weight. “Howdy there, Twilight. Y’all know you had us worried sick.”

“I told you not to follow me.” Twilight’s voice was hoarse and accusing as she pushed the cowpony away and stumbled past her. “They’re beneath us. Let us focus on the matter at hoof. Don’t talk about my friends like that! It matters not. I will vanquish the beast. No, shut up!”

Rainbow exchanged a look of concern with Applejack. She spared a glance towards Spike and saw the dragon steadily crossing the distance towards the group, his head bobbing side to side as he sized up the newcomers. Gingerly she laid a hoof on Twilight’s back. “Twi, who are you talking to?”

“What?” Twilight spun around, her eyes wide. “You can’t hear it?”

“Slow down, sugar cube,” Applejack said softly. “We’ve got ya.”

Twilight squeezed her eyes shut and looked away, muttering under her breath. “Of course you don’t hear it. Stupid, stupid, I’ve been talking to it out loud all this time.”

A roar from Spike drew Rainbow’s attention. She watched the dragon rear up and flare his wings, raising his claws high to crush the three divers.

“Fire and maneuver!” Sabre shouted.

Flint’s repeater spat fire, the bullets zipping into Spike’s hind right leg and flashing on impact like miniature shooting stars. Star Trails’ javelin sprang forth next, piercing the ragged scales left behind by the barrage of gunfire and drawing a frustrated hiss from the dragon. A jet of steam vented from Sabre’s suit as she launched a weighted bola at the injured leg, the balls barely reaching enough to wrap around once before they began to buzz with electricity.

Spike screamed as his leg finally gave out, and the three divers each darted in different directions as his gargantuan head crashed to the ground where they had been standing. Rainbow felt a pang of sympathy as she watched his eyes roll about in his head, smoke curling from his mouth as he gnashed his teeth in fury.

She clicked her radio on. “Sabre, you’re gonna kill him!”

“That’s the plan, Rainbow,” Sabre said, breathing hard. “There’s only room for killers and corpses in the ocean, and I’m not letting my ponies die.”

Twilight was huddled up on the ground, muttering words under her breath too quiet for Rainbow to hear, her eyes locked on the battle in front of them. Sea Sabre rushed out of cover, her wingblades catching the flickering light of Spike’s fire, and pounced towards his head.

There was a flash of lavender light, and Rainbow yelped as she was thrown back to the ground hard enough to knock the breath from her. When she rolled back to her hooves, gasping for breath, she saw Twilight standing protectively in front of Spike, glaring at each of the ponies sprawled out in the ruins around her, her pupils turned to dark slits. “He is ours!”

“Twilight, no!” Rainbow ran forwards, heart pounding in her ears. This could be it. Please don’t make me choose! “Just calm down!”

“Stay down, Rainbow!” Rainbow grunted in pain as she was forced to the ground face first by an unseen force. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

“Change of plans.” Sabre’s voice was strained but calm over the radio. “Go for the unicorn first. We’ll get the dragon next.”

“We have to save him!”

“We must destroy him!”

“I won’t let you hurt him!”

“He will kill them all if we don’t.”

“Or they’ll kill him.”

“We can subdue him, if we act as one.”

“Nobody else has to die.”

“We have the power to stop it.”

Together, Twilight and Midnight looked up. They saw Spike on the ground, one bleeding hind leg splayed out behind him as he was peppered with gunfire and gored by a floating javelin. They watched Sea Sabre bound towards him, her blades bared like fangs sinking towards his throat.

Calling on their magic, they teleported between the two, throwing the armored ponies back with a wave of force powerful enough to daze without crushing the soft bodies inside. They looked to each pony in turn, and Midnight cast its voice out over them. “He is ours!”

“Twilight, no!” Rainbow Dash, quick as ever, was the first to bounce back to her hooves. She ran towards them at full speed, wings half-extended. “Just calm down!”

Midnight hissed its irritation, but Twilight intervened, pinning her friend in place with an arcane force that should keep her safely out of harm’s way. “Stay down, Rainbow! I don’t want to hurt you!”

With a sharp glance towards Applejack to ensure she didn’t try to interfere, they turned to Spike. The dragon spewed fire, and they deflected the blast with an unflinching wall of magic. He propped himself up off the ground with his forelegs, his rear end still dragging limply through the stones, and met their gaze with a deep growl.

The clouds of dark magic stemming from his bloodshot eyes pulsed with light, and Twilight winced as she felt a sharp pressure on the inside of her skull. She thought back to her confrontation with Owloysius, when she had faced a very similar attack, but it wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as it had been then.

Midnight laughed, stretching their lips into a prideful sneer. “Is that all you have, dragon? I had expected a challenge!” Their magic twisted in strange ways alien to Twilight, and she watched as Spike flinched back, jets of flame spewing from his snout as he glared defiantly into their eyes.

What are you doing to him? Twilight asked. What is this magic?

He is in two, as we are. I can feel it, Midnight said. They stepped closer as it spoke, driving him back. But both his halves are weak in spirit. His darkness is like a wild animal, fleeing craven before my power!

Twilight turned the words over in her racing mind. If there were two halves to him, like there were to her, then that meant that her Spike had to still be in there! And if Midnight was able to drive the dark mind inside him away, then that meant…

“Spike!” Twilight reached a pleading hoof out towards the dragon, tears budding in her eyes as she saw his massive green eyes flinching in pain. “I’m here, Spike! You’ve found me!”

“See how he submits to our strength?” Midnight boasted, stretching their face into a wide grin. “Submit to us, dragon! Bow!”

Midnight pushed them towards him, pressing even more magic against his mind. Slowly, the malice in his eyes gave way to pain, and then from pain to fear as the ancient dragon gave ground. He scrabbled backwards like a cornered animal, unable to truly escape with his lame leg.

Stop it! Twilight clenched their jaw, re-asserting her will.

Midnight gasped as their magic was cut off, the swirling energies that had surrounded their horn fizzling out with a colorful spark of energy. What are you doing? We have him!

He’s not some monster to subjugate, Twilight said sternly. He’s my number one assistant, and I want him back!

The ruins had fallen deathly still. Twilight looked up to Spike with one hoof gingerly outstretched, and he looked down at her with wide, fearful eyes. They were not the eager eyes of the young drake that had helped her sort books in simpler times, nor the clever eyes she had imagined in the mature dragon that had grown up in the dead city as he searched for her, but they were also not the hungry, malicious eyes of the monster that had chased her and her friends out of Canterlot what felt like forever ago. They were confused, caught between the instincts of fight and flight. They reminded her of when he was barely a hatchling, a little bundle of energy that barely came up to her shoulder when she was just a filly and who seemed to approach every new object wondering if he should eat it or run away.

“As long as you can hear your own thoughts, you’re still yourself,” Twilight said softly. Slowly, she laid her hoof against the hot scales of his nearest leg, staring up into his eyes. “You remember, don’t you? You’ll always be my number one assistant.”

He held her gaze for a long moment, plumes of smoke chuffing from his snout with every thunderous breath.

She heard a hiss of steam behind her. Spike jerked his head around with a curious snort, looking away. Following his gaze, Twilight turned to see Star Trails crouched low, the javelin thrower built into her shoulder aimed for her heart.

The javelin flew forth with a sharp twang, and Twilight cried out as Spike’s claws flashed into motion.

Author's Notes:

Written words are like a time machine, carrying our thoughts forward to those who have left us behind. It's unfortunate that they don't work both ways.

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VI: Of Friendship

“Twilight, look out!” Feeling the magic holding her slipping, Rainbow made to jump forwards, but Flint tackled her to the ground. She strained against him in vain. “Let me go, Flint!”

“No can do, lass,” Flint growled at her. “It’s best t’ follow Sabre’s orders.”

“Consarnit, Sabre, show some damned courtesy!” Applejack bellowed. She made to dash towards Twilight, but Sabre darted in her path and tripped her with a leg.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t risk my ponies. This is the best chance we have.” Sabre spread her stance wide, bracing herself to intercept any further attempts from Applejack. “Trails, fire.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Trails voice shook only slightly as she lined her javelin up with Twilight’s back. Rainbow twisted against Flint with a grunt of exertion, leveraging her wings and the past days training to break free from his grip, but she was too slow. Even free from his hold, she couldn’t fly in her armor.

Time seemed to slow. Rainbow let out a strangled cry, but the javelin was already flying, cutting through the air with a barely audible whistle as Twilight’s eyes widened in alarm.

Spike’s furious roar struck Rainbow with enough force to make her stagger backwards as small chunks of stone pinged off her armor. When the dust cleared, Twilight was nowhere to be seen, and the entire street was blocked off by a snarling Spike, the javelin freshly embedded in his foreleg still shaking from the impact. His head reared up, plumes of acrid smoke billowing from his jaw as green fire flickered in his nostrils.

“Oh, buck!” Star Trails twisted in place, sprinting for the nearest collapsed building. “Incoming!”

“Aw, hay, Sabre!” Applejack cursed. “Y’all gone and pissed ‘em off now!”

Rainbow scrambled to the side, diving into a crater behind a pile of loose bricks just as the inferno of dragonfire stormed across the street.

The crackle of the fire was nearly deafening even through the metal of her helmet, and she curled up into a ball and screamed as her suit began to grow painfully hot against her sides. The air in her helmet grew baking hot, her radio bursting with the pop of static, and the sweat on her forehead sizzled and popped as it dripped off her muzzle. Still the heat grew more and more intense.

“Spike, stop!”

Twilight’s magically amplified voice cut through the air like a thunderclap, and the fire stopped an instant later. Rainbow’s hooves scrabbled against her neck and released the seal around her helmet, and she threw it to the ground before sucking in a deep, gasping breath. The air was still hot outside of her armor, but it felt like a cool spring breeze compared to the suffocating heat she had endured inside it.

After taking several heaping gulps of air, Rainbow’s mind jumped to her friends. She struggled to her hooves and climbed out of the crater, surveying the scorched street with a frantic eye. Applejack was hunched over a prone Flintlock in the recess of an empty fountain, smoke trailing from both of their discarded helmets. Star Trails poked her head out from a heap of bricks before clawing her way free and tossing her own headgear aside. Sea Sabre was nowhere to be seen.

At the end of the street Spike loomed over it all like a reptilian roadblock, his wide eyes focused on the lavender unicorn standing in front of him with a hoof raised.

Rainbow looked from one friend to another, torn between her loyalties, but it only took a moment for her to decide where she was needed most. With a nervous gulp, she pushed her sweat-soaked mane back with a hoof and shoved herself into motion.

Twilight was still focused on Spike, her back to the other ponies, and Spike snorted a warning as Rainbow approached. Twilight calmed him with a hoof against one massive scale and some quiet words. Rainbow drew up short a half dozen steps away, opened her mouth to say something, and suddenly realized that she wasn’t sure what to say.

Rainbow flinched back a step as Twilight turned to meet her gaze. Her eyes were dark purple slits, and if not for the faint red trails stained into her cheeks Rainbow might have assumed that her friend had been possessed by Nightmare Moon. Her wings flared reflexively at the thought, the metal of her wingblades sliding across each other with a distinctive rasp before she realized what she was doing. She kept her sight focused on Twilight as Spike mirrored the motion with a growl of warning.

Rainbow had just carved a path of violence through the changelings of Canterlot with barely a flinch, but now the tips of her wings were trembling inside her armor. She could only stare, her whole body aching from the hell it had just been through, and pray to Celestia that she wouldn’t have to decide what loyalty meant. Please don’t make me fight you.

Twilight’s lips parted into an uneasy smile, revealing the fangs nestled among her teeth. “Rainbow, it’s me.”

Rainbow let out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her own nervous grin breaking through. “Sorry, Twi, you just look kinda… y’know.” Like a villain from an old mare’s tale.

Twilight’s ears drooped as her smile died. She looked to Rainbow’s side, focusing on something unseen. “I-I know how it looks.” A silence fell between the two friends. After several seconds, Twilight met Rainbow’s gaze once more, her eyes brimming with murky red tears. “But it’s s-still me.”

Rainbow gave a little nod. After a moment it occurred to her that Twilight might not have seen the subtle movement. She glanced up to Spike, who was glowering at her with undisguised suspicion. “And that’s still Spike?”

Twilight sighed, looking away as the first tear fell down her cheek. “What’s left of him.”

Rainbow nodded a few more times as she processed the words. She folded her wings by her sides. “Y-you wanna come back to the ship?” She stretched her lips into what she hoped was an encouraging grin. “We could talk about it.”

Twilight glanced up at Spike. The dragon snorted at her, releasing twin plumes of smoke, and she turned back to Rainbow with a weary smile. “I would love to talk, but I don’t think I’m ready to leave Canterlot yet. A lot has happened while—” she grimaced, looking down at her hooves “—while we’ve been apart.”

“Right.” Rainbow’s grin became a bit more earnest. It had been a long time since Twilight had expressed any interest in opening up to her, and she would accept any chance she was given, even if it had to be in a ruined city at the bottom of the ocean. “You can pick a spot, Twi. Anywhere you want, and we’re there.”

Twilight smiled at her, and Rainbow could feel the weight of the past week lifting from her shoulders. They were back together again, and this time there wouldn’t be any bounty hunters or sudden invasions to break them apart.

The clunk of an armored hoof sounded to the side, and both mares turned towards it with ears up. Sea Sabre staggered out of a gaping doorway just a few steps away, her flared wings hanging low with exhaustion and her hard red eyes visible through the cracked visor of her helmet. She took a step forwards, drawing a hiss from Spike.

Rainbow stepped into her path, straightening her stance. “Stand down, Sabre.”

Sabre cocked her head. Her voice was dulled by the armor, but it was as firm as ever. “Is that an order?”

“They’re not any threat,” Rainbow said, meeting the other pegasus’ glare with her own. “It’s handled, ma’am.”

An uneasy silence passed between the two mares. Sabre looked behind Rainbow, narrowing her eyes just as she always did at the beginning of a practice fight. Rainbow let her own wings open just enough for the blades set into the armor to be visible.

After a few seconds, Sabre gave a curt nod. “Acknowledged.”

She turned away and started towards the rest of the dive team with a stiff gait. Rainbow watched her go, ears twitching at the barely audible sound of Sabre calling for a status report over the radio.

Twilight’s quiet voice behind her caught her attention. “Rainbow… what did you think you were coming here to do?”

Save you, whatever that might mean. Rainbow couldn’t bring herself to turn and meet Twilight’s eyes. “You should pick a spot where we can settle down and catch up, Twi,” she said, following in Sabre’s wake. “I’m gonna go check on AJ and the others.”

She walked away without looking back, and tried not to think about how close she had come to making an impossible choice.

I told you I didn’t want you making anymore changes, Twilight said.

And I agreed, for then, but it was not I who made this change. Midnight’s toothy smile was clear in the back of Twilight’s mind. We moved as one, and our body embraced it along with our minds.

Please stop talking like that.

It is only truth, as I always speak. We are not enemies unless you force it to be so.

Twilight grimaced as she crested the long, winding steps that surrounded her old tower for the second time in as many hours. After so long spent jumping at every imagined sound and shadow in the dead city, she was still getting used to the sound of hearing hoofsteps behind her and not immediately bolting for the closest hiding spot. Spike had flown ahead once they got near the tower, and she could hear his great weight shuffling around inside even through the closed doors.

She turned to the side, putting a hoof up on the stone railing and taking in the city that stretched beneath her. She cocked her head to one side. “Do the ruins look brighter to you, girls?”

“Still about as dark as the outhouse on a snowy winter night,” Applejack said, grunting as she helped Flint up the last part of the steps. “Why?”

Twilight frowned. “I can see all the way to the edge of the dome.” She lifted a hoof, tracing an imaginary path up the gradually curving stone wall to the mantle of rock that hung far above the tallest remaining towers of the city. “And all the towers.” She blinked at a sudden burst of movement. “A-and changelings watching us.”

“Maybe it’s your, uh, eyes?” Rainbow’s voice cracked, and when Twilight turned to face her she looked away with obvious unease. “They look kinda like Nightmare Moon’s did now, so, y’know, maybe.”

“Right.” Twilight looked back to the shadowed horizon, her eyes coming to rest on a smirking Midnight standing in the air in front of her as if it were solid rock. She shot it a glare. “That makes sense.”

Did you prefer the darkness, little flower?

Twilight pursed her lips as she picked out more and more changelings among the ruins, several of them pausing to stare up at her with their eerily blank eyes. Have they been watching us the whole time?

I was just as pitifully blind as you, until recently. Though there is one thing I can feel which you clearly cannot. Midnight guided their gaze upwards, and Twilight stiffened as she saw the massive changeling queen hanging from the rock above them, her green eyes almost glowing with a dim light.

Chrysalis! How long has she been watching us?

It is the same entity I felt when we scavenged the changeling that we cooked, I’m certain of it. Twilight could feel Midnight bristling inside her, causing their hooves to twitch in agitation. It feels similar to the dragon’s darkness, almost, though his seemed far less clever.

Maybe she remembers me too. Twilight was certain that Chrysalis had lost herself to the corruption just as Spike had, but what parts of her still remained? Spike’s protective instincts towards her and the Elements had survived his corruption. Had the changeling queen somehow held on to her disdain of Twilight all this time? Twilight shivered as Chrysalis crawled across the domed roof of Canterlot, her eyes unmoving.

She tore her gaze away, looking instead to the armored ponies gathering on what was once her front balcony. “I think it’s best if everyone but Rainbow and AJ stay out here for now. I don’t know how Spike will react if I bring ponies he doesn’t recognize into his lair, but you should be safe here. It looks like the changelings give him a wide berth.”

Flintlock gave a loud snort as Applejack eased him down against the wall. He’d been leaning against her for support during the walk, having taken the most severe damage from Spike’s fire. Between Twilight’s magical assistance and his own natural hardiness as a Gifted earth pony, he had avoided any truly lasting injuries, but it was clear that he would need time to completely recover. “Ye don’t want us sittin’ in on yer wee reunion, ‘Light? I’d bet th’ month’s pay yer pet dragon’s got all th’ good salvage in Canterlot in that room.” His strained grin cut off with a groan as he settled onto his rump.

“We’ll stay out here,” Sabre said. She paused to give a meaningful look towards Rainbow before turning to Star Trails. “Trails, see if you can’t map out the city from here.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Star Trails flicked Flint with her tail as she stepped up to the railing, horn glowing, drawing a dramatic moan from him. “No manners whatsoever, you big goof.”

Twilight was the first to enter. Spike lifted his angular head from where it rested on his hoard, his wings shuffling against his sides, and she offered him a reassuring smile as Rainbow Dash and Applejack followed behind her. “It’s okay, Spike. You remember them, right?”

Spike eyed them warily, the spines running down his neck rising. Applejack let out a nervous chuckle. “Maybe we should just stick to this side of the room, y’all. I know better than to approach a rooster atop his hen.”

Rainbow cocked her head with a frown. “Y’know you don’t have to relate every situation to farm animals, right?”

“I don’t have to, but I like to,” Applejack said. “Point is, he ain’t lookin’ like he quite recognizes us as much as he’s just toleratin’ us for Twilight’s sake.”

Twilight sighed as she led the way to the old flat pillows that adorned a small reading nook opposite the room from the pile of treasure. “I think you’re probably right, Applejack. After what he’s been through, I’m glad that he at least still seems to recognize me.”

The three mares arrayed themselves in a rough triangle around a dusty table that had once had hundreds of books read upon it. Twilight stretched the soreness out of her body as she slid Shining Armor’s saddlebags off her back, but she kept Princess Celestia’s tiara tucked close against her chest with one hoof. Midnight made a big show of sitting in between Twilight’s friends, turning to sneer at each one in turn, and Twilight couldn’t help but flick her tail as she met its disdainful frown with a glare of her own.

They sat there for a long moment in awkward silence. Twilight’s eyes roamed the room as she realized that this was the first time any of her friends had seen her old home. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she imagined frantically cleaning the place in preparation for their arrival, clearing away centuries of dust and decay so that they could sit at this very table. She would give anything to prowl the shelves and pull out a new Daring Do book, to roll her eyes at Rainbow’s far-too-vocal reactions to every paragraph or arch a curious eyebrow at whatever apple-based publication Applejack brought with her, all over cups of tea and snack rolls that Spike might have prepared for the occasion.

Such foalish fantasy. Twilight’s smile vanished in an instant. What is tea and stories when we hold the greatest power in Equestria within ourselves?

I don’t want power. I just want my friends.

Your friends aren’t the ones who saved Spike.

Rainbow cleared her throat, breaking the silence. “So… what’s up?”

Such casual words, but the answer was so complicated. Twilight turned to her friends, her gaze lingering on the brightly colored lightning bolt stitched into Rainbow’s otherwise black eyepatch. Rarity’s work, she wondered? She decided that the time for evasiveness was long past.

“I’ve been possessed by a malignant entity,” she said. “I believe it might be the same thing, or at least similar, to the corruption that spread across Equestria in our absence.”

Applejack blinked, her eyebrows rising as she gave a slight shake of her head. Rainbow’s lips tightened. Midnight snorted petulantly between them.

“And it’s the same thing y’all told me about before?” Applejack asked. She exchanged a brief glance with Rainbow. “Is that the thing that was sayin’ those wild things, back on Altalusia?”

Twilight nodded hesitantly. “Its name is Midnight. It’s been—” she paused, considering the best word “—haunting me constantly since then.”

“Whoa, hold up.” Rainbow raised a hoof, her brow furrowing. “Is it here right now?”

You know, I would never talk about you as if you weren’t here.

Twilight frowned. You have nobody else to talk to anyways. “It’s sitting between you two, yes.”

Both mares looked to the space between them with wide eyes. Rainbow reached out a hoof and prodded at the air experimentally. “I don’t feel anything.”

She truly does resemble the idiot from our memories, Midnight said. Tell her that.

Twilight ignored the comment, but found herself unable to open her mouth. She blinked, turning to glare at Midnight. Let me talk!

You cannot ignore me, little flower. Midnight smirked. Or are you still learning that lesson?

Applejack glanced back and forth between Twilight and Midnight, clearly unable to see the latter. “Twi, y’all good?”

Twilight sighed, and Midnight let her speak freely as it sensed her compromise. “It wants me to convey an insult towards your intelligence, Rainbow.”

“What?!” Rainbow shot up out of her seat, glaring in Midnight’s direction. “Why don’t you say that to my face, chump?”

“Please don’t ask for that,” Twilight said as Midnight’s grin grew unnaturally wide. “I’ve been trying to keep it away from my body ever since Altalusia.”

Applejack leaned back, one hoof rubbing at her chin. “And as much as I hate to say it, sugar cube, it looks like you ain’t been doin’ all too hot at that on y’all’s own.”

Twilight flinched away at the words. Midnight let out an affectionate coo, draping its phantom form over Applejack’s shoulders. Oh, this one isn’t so bad.

“Y-you’re right.” Twilight shook her head as she rubbed her hoof over the smooth metal of the tiara hanging under her neck. “I’ve developed some… mutations.”

Is that all you’re going to tell them? I’m sure they’d love to hear about the changeling we butchered for food.

Twilight squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head harder. Would you just shut up for once?

Midnight’s irritation pulsed in the back of her head. And here I was thinking that you’d finally show some gratitude, but perhaps your recalcitrance truly knows no bounds.

“Twilight?”

Twilight looked up. Applejack and Rainbow were both leaning forwards with clear concern in their eyes, the former stretching a hoof across the table towards her. “We know y’all ain’t no monster, filly. Just tell us how we can help.”

Rainbow glanced sideways towards Applejack before giving Twilight an emphatic, grinning nod. “We won’t leave you hanging, Twi.”

A warm hope bloomed in Twilight’s breast like the embers of a dying fire stirring in the wake of a morning breeze. She met their comforting expressions with a small smile of her own, her hoof still plucking at the tiara in its grip. Hadn’t she already decided to talk to them about what was happening to her? These were her best friends, after all, and they had already stopped two apocalypses together by the power of their friendship. She opened her mouth to speak, but Midnight held her words back.

If you intend to tell them our tale, it will be the truth. Our truth, and not just your own.

Twilight looked up, meeting Midnight’s eyes. She gave it a hesitant nod. Fine.

The hardest part was deciding where to begin. Should she start at the moment she suspected to be Midnight’s genesis, the malediction she had broken over Fluttershy? Perhaps the first time that Midnight had spoken to her? She bit her lip while her friends waited before her. No, Altalusia was the logical place to start. That’s where everything had truly fallen apart.

The story came haltingly at first, and she found herself repeating the same things and going back to make small corrections as she told Rainbow Dash and Applejack about how Gava and Ana had exploited her momentary desire for isolation to capture her. She spoke of her fears for their well being, and Midnight’s promise to help her protect them, and the rush of power that had come with its help. She shivered as she described the sensation of being trapped in her own body, forced to watch as the island was broken under the weight of her magic, and how she was only able to retake control with the surge of emotion she’d felt when she thought she might have killed Pinkie Pie.

“Y’all didn’t kill her, thank Celestia,” Applejack interjected. “Though the poor filly ain’t been able to move her hind legs ever since.”

“She seemed to be taking it pretty well, at least.” Rainbow shrugged. “Kinda felt like everybody else cared about it more than her, but I dunno. We didn’t spend much time on Altalusia after you left.”

Twilight felt a small weight lift from her shoulders at the news, but now that she had started her story it was impossible to hold it in any longer. She told them of the three days she had spent at the bottom of the ocean without food or water, harried all the while by the voice in her head and unable to rest for more than a few minutes at a time lest her magic give out. She cried as she told them about how close she had come to just giving in and letting it all end, and they held her when she explained how desperately hungry she had been when she allowed her teeth to be warped into carnivorous fangs, how she had eaten the dead changeling she’d stumbled across in the darkness.

The words came faster still. Endless hours spent shuffling through the pitch-black ruins as unseen hooves scraped over the stone around her, the ashen taste of the dozens of mushrooms she had eaten, the fear that she was becoming a monster. She cringed at their shocked expressions when she told them about the changeling she had butchered and cooked for sustenance.

“You don’t think I’m a monster, do you?” Her whole body stiffened around Celestia’s tiara as she waited for the answer.

Rainbow gave a nonchalant shrug, but it wasn’t enough to hide the unease in her eye. “You’re not the first, uh, meat-eater I’ve been friends with, Twi. It’s weird, for sure, but it’s hardly a dealbreaker for an awesome mare like you.”

Applejack’s lips were set into a firm line. “Y’all did what ya had to do. Ain’t no shame in that.”

Twilight gave her friends a grateful smile. At the same time, Midnight shook her head with a disappointed frown. They judge us.

They’re trying their best, Twilight countered. It’s a lot to take in.

They cannot hope to understand us, no matter how hard they try.

Twilight paused, considering whether to mention the books she had taken from the Royal Archives. She hadn’t come to any especially noteworthy conclusions from the reading, and she could already imagine Rainbow yawning and poking fun at her for going to the ruins of Canterlot just to visit the library, and so she moved on with a sheepish smile, recounting her discovery of Celestia’s lost tiara and her experience in the Hall of Relics. It felt like she had been talking for hours by the time she described her arrival in her old tower. Her throat was dry and her lips tingling, but she was eager to finish.

The tears came back to her as she told her friends about what she had found in her bedroom. She pulled Spike’s journal and Shining Armor’s log out and placed them on the table, sharing what she had learned of Spike’s life after their disappearance in a hoarse throat. Applejack and Rainbow Dash both moved to comfort her, sometimes glancing towards Spike with shock or concern. Midnight remained seated alone on the far side of the table, leering down at Twilight with her forelegs crossed.

When Twilight finally reached the end of Spike’s story, Applejack was watching her with wide eyes. “I never woulda thought the little fella had it in ’im.”

“Of course he did,” Rainbow said with a teary grin. “He had us to look up to.”

“There’s more,” Twilight said, pushing herself off of Applejack’s shoulder. “He hid the Elements of Harmony in my bedroom.”

“Whoa, what?!” Rainbow’s grin grew even wider. “Did you find them?”

Twilight answered with a slow nod, her voice quiet. “Yes, Rainbow, they were all there.”

“Hay, that’s the best thing I’ve heard this century, Twi,” Applejack said. “So why do y’all sound so glum about it?”

“Because they rejected me,” Twilight breathed.

“Speak up, Twi.” Rainbow Dash leaned in, cocking her head. “Sounded like you said they rejected you or something.”

“That’s what I said!” Twilight’s frown hardened as she looked up to meet Rainbow’s gaze, making the pegasus flinch back. “The Elements won’t even let me touch them, because they can tell that I’m a monster!”

Her shout seemed to hang in the air. Spike raised his head at the disturbance, and Midnight watched in silence with an amused smirk. Rainbow and Applejack exchanged a glance before the latter spoke. “Now y’all don’t know that for sure.”

“Yes I do!” Twilight snapped. “They burn me if I try to touch them, with my magic or my hooves! Why else would they do that other than them knowing what I really am?”

Applejack rested a comforting hoof on her shoulder. “I ain’t no mage, sugar cube, but I’m pretty sure magic ain’t that simple.”

“Yeah, don’t you want to run some experiments or something?” Rainbow asked. “Anything could have happened to them while we were gone, right?”

Twilight grimaced. She looked up, catching Midnight’s eye, and it stared back impassively. We know the truth of it, don’t we, little flower? We don’t need the sweet honey lies.

“The Elements won’t work without harmony, girls,” Twilight said quietly. “And harmony isn’t something I’ve felt in weeks.”

“Well…” Rainbow trailed off, looking to Applejack for support.

“Maybe we should look at ’em?” Applejack suggested. “Where are they right now?”

Twilight nodded towards where Spike was watching sharp-eyed from atop his treasure pile. “Spike took them. I think he remembers that they’re important.”

“Oh.” Applejack let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, shucks, could y’all get the big guy to give ’em up?”

“Maybe. I don’t really feel like trying it right now. Sorry.” Twilight sighed, leaning back and scooping Spike’s journal back into her bags. Reliving everything since Altalusia with her friends had been almost as emotionally draining as it had been the first time, and right then she wanted nothing more than to curl up with a good book and forget where she was.

Rainbow scrunched her muzzle up. “So like, what do we do now?”

Twilight’s eyes lingered on Shining Armor’s logbook. Captain Shining Armor, 1st Guards Division, was printed across the front in his blocky script. She still hadn’t read it.

“I’m going to do some reading,” she said, grabbing the book in her magic. “It’s been a while. Sea Sabre has been very patient.”

She vanished with a purple flash and the crack of teleportation, grunting as she landed on the stiff cushioning of her old mattress. The door had been torn off its hinges by Spike, but it was simple enough for her to levitate it back into place and secure it with a small spell.

Midnight walked through the door as if it didn’t exist, approaching the bed and settling down at Twilight’s side without a word. The chill of its presence sent a shiver down Twilight’s spine, but she didn’t mind. She was already getting used to the cold.

They kept their eyes trained on the logbook as they opened to the first page with their magic.

Rainbow Dash flinched back at the sudden flash and crack of Twilight teleporting away, the close-proximity magic causing her feathers to tingle. She met Applejack’s eyes, seeing her own worries reflected inside them.

“We done screwed up, Rainbow,” Applejack said. “Shouldn’t have ever let it get this bad.”

“It could still be worse,” Rainbow said. “She’s still Twilight, right?”

“She is, but for how long?” Applejack ran a hoof through her mane where her hat normally rested. “We gotta bring her back to us before it’s too late.”

“But how?” Rainbow asked. She started, glancing around the room with her eye wide. “Do you think, uh, Midnight is still listening?”

“Hay if I know, and what’s it matter anyway?” Applejack glared at the shadows in the dimly lit room intently. “An Apple don’t sneak around like some shakin’ varmint hidin’ in a bush. That Midnight’s a pest, and I ain’t gonna let it sit.” She stood up, raising her voice. “Ya hear me, varmint? Y’all got the top spot on this farmpony’s list!”

Spike flared his wings, his lips curling back to reveal massive fangs as he growled at Applejack. She paled, plopping back into her seat with a quiet, “Whoa, nelly!”

Rainbow offered him a sheepish smile, leaning over to whisper into Applejack’s ear. “Maybe we should get out of his lair until Twilight gets back?”

“I reckon ya might be right, Rainbow,” Applejack whispered back. “Slow movements. We don’t want to startle the big fella.”

Rainbow stood slowly, creeping towards the front door at a snail’s pace with Applejack close behind her. She kept her eye fixed on Spike, who kept both of his on her, his tail swishing side to side, the treasure underneath jingling and ringing with each movement.

She let out an audible sigh of relief when she finally stepped out onto the open balcony outside Twilight’s door. Star Trails and Flintlock were seated opposite each other, each one holding a small metal cup, while Sea Sabre frowned out at the rest of the city from behind the railing. All three turned at the sound of Applejack closing the door behind them.

“Ye finally finish hidin’ th’ dragon’s whole hoard?” Flint asked, a hint of pain hidden under the humor in his voice. “I’d have brought lunch if I knew ye’d take so long.”

“Oh, relax,” Trails said as she shook the cup in her hooves. The dice inside rattled loudly as she slapped the cup down onto the floor. “C’mon, roll.”

Sabre beckoned with a nod of her head, and Rainbow and Applejack both joined her at the railing. She looked between them each in turn. “Tell me what we’re still doing here.”

“Twilight just finished telling us how she’s been since Altalusia,” Rainbow said, straightening up to match Sabre’s posture.

“So what are we waiting on?” Sabre asked, glancing towards Applejack. “I want to be back aboard the Argo with Twilight Sparkle and return to Heighton as soon as possible.”

“She just needs a little bit of alone time, Sabre,” Applejack said. “She’s right stressed, but she’ll be ready soon enough I’m sure.”

Sabre’s ear twitched, and her lips grew even tighter. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but we’re currently in the middle of possibly the most dangerous place in Equestria. We had to fight our way through at least two dozen changelings before we reached Twilight, and the only reason they aren’t attacking us this very moment is because they’re too afraid of the wild dragon whose lair we’re waiting outside, the very same dragon that nearly roasted us all alive.” She paused, letting the words sink in. “We're all stressed. She can relax as much as she wants once we’re back on the ship.”

“Well, she teleported off to her room with her dead brother’s notebook, Sabre,” Rainbow said with an apologetic shrug. “None of us can get to her without getting past Spike, and I don’t want to antagonize him.”

Flint snorted as he rolled the dice in his cup and slapped them down onto the ground. “Ach, we can take th’ drake.” He pulled the cup up and peeked inside. “Five twos.”

Rainbow rounded on him. “I don’t want you to take him! He’s our friend!”

Flint just shook his head. “I’ve never had a friend try ‘n cook me alive before.”

“Probably because nobody wants the taste of gunpowder in their mouths,” Trails quipped as she checked her own dice. “Five threes.”

Rainbow opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the tower door opening. Twilight stepped into view, holding Shining Armor’s logbook close to her chest. Her mouth hung slightly open, and the red stains on her cheeks glistened.

“Y’alright, sugar cube?” Applejack asked.

“Princess Celestia didn’t want Shiny to come here.” Twilight’s voice was soft. “He came anyways, even with all of Equestria falling apart around him, because that’s what big brothers are supposed to do. He’s dead because of me.”

Sea Sabre stepped forwards, getting Twilight’s attention. “I’m sorry for your loss, but we need to move. The Argo is waiting for us on the surface.”

Twilight frowned, looking to Rainbow and Applejack with obvious confusion. “I’m not going back to the Argo.”

Rainbow stiffened. She let out a nervous laugh. “Twi, please tell me we didn’t come all this way just for you to decide you want to stay in Canterlot?”

Applejack gave a firm nod. “Y’all need to think this through, Twilight. It wasn’t easy to find ya.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but I don’t want to put any of you in danger,” Twilight said. Her eyes flicked towards an empty space to her side as she squeezed the weathered book in her hooves tighter. “Where is Princess Luna?”

“She’s still on the Argo,” Star Trails said, perking up. “Why?”

Twilight nodded. “I’m heading for the Frozen North, and I’ll need you to bring her there for me.”

Flint snorted. “And how’re ye gonna get there, eh? Ye gonna walk th’ length of Equestria from th’ ocean floor?”

“I’ll be teleporting, actually,” Twilight corrected with a small smile. “That’s how I got here from Altalusia.”

“But why the Frozen North?” Rainbow asked. She sat down with a heavy sigh. “Why won’t you come back to Heighton with us?”

“It’s from Shiny’s logs. Princess Celestia sent Princess Cadance there to search for something, though I’m not sure what.” She paused, levitating the book up to her face and flipping through the pages as her eyes darted side to side. “It seems like she had an idea about stopping the corruption. She must not have found what she needed, or maybe not in time, but there may still be something there. We might be able to wake up Luna, or help Spike!”

“Or get rid of Midnight,” Applejack added grimly.

Twilight glanced off to one side. “R-right.”

Sea Sabre looked to Rainbow. “Who?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Rainbow promised. She followed Twilight’s gaze, a slight shiver passing over her as she imagined the vicious creature that Twilight had described to her standing there and watching as they talked about destroying it. “So you want us to follow you there, then?”

Twilight nodded. “I’ll be leaving once I get some rest.” She turned for the door before pausing and looking back. “Y-you can spend the night if you want.”

“A sleepover in Canterlot, huh?” Applejack asked with a wry smile. “Rarity would be jealous.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Rainbow said, grinning. She turned to Sea Sabre. “You in?”

The other pegasus looked over her team for a moment before replying. “One night, but we leave in the morning.”

Rainbow nodded. After the past week she had spent worrying over Twilight and fearing she’d have to fight one of her own best friends, the mounting feeling that her world was falling apart was finally starting to abate. Twilight was still Twilight, and now she had a plan.

As Rainbow followed Twilight into the dark interior of her old home, she closed the door behind her and shut out the dead, crumbling ruins of Canterlot. For tonight at least, maybe they could just be three friends spending time together.

Author's Notes:

As long as you can hear your own thoughts, you can remain yourself. That's what everyone else thought, at least, until they couldn't think any longer.

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VII: Of Discussions

Anatami jerked awake at the heavy click of the prison trapdoor opening.

She lay still, keeping her breath at the same steady rhythm as the groaning complaints of the old hinges bounced off the cold stones. The day’s meal had already been delivered, and her chamber bucket wasn’t due to be emptied for another two nights at least. Was the Duke finally getting around to her execution?

The hoofsteps that climbed out of the tower stairwell were unfamiliar to her. The jingling-mail and grumbled sighs of her usual warden were absent, though she did detect a heaviness to her unexpected visitor’s breath. The climb had left him short of breath; he was unlikely to be one of the Duke’s rigorously drilled soldiers.

Whoever it may be, Ana saw no reason to betray her alertness. She remained as she was, cuddled up on the thin pile of dry straw that had served as her bed for the past week with her back to the entrance. She had precious little advantage in this hard place, and information was something to be valued.

The stallion cleared his throat. “Anatami?”

His voice was clear in spite of his breathiness, each syllable pronounced with the careful, polite enunciation of an educated central Equestrian. He certainly wasn’t from Altalusia; even the urban ponies on the western coast spoke with somewhat of an accent.

“I imagine you’ve been rather lonely since the wedding, but I’ve brought good news, and word from Gava.”

Ana’s pulse quickened, but she didn’t allow any reaction from her body. She had watched with her own two eyes as her sister’s limp form had plummeted out of sight to the ocean below. Had she somehow recovered before impact? Gava had always had a habit of getting herself into more trouble than she could handle, but she also possessed a talent for surviving each ordeal by the tuft of her tail. She mentally chastised herself for her hopeful naivete. What’s it matter what a random pony says? You can’t know for sure either way until you see it yourself.

The stallion let out an amused hum. “She said you might do this. I’ve been told that it’s generally wise to always assume you’re awake. I admit, I’m sure I’d be more than convinced otherwise.”

The distinctive jingling of keys sounded from behind her, followed by a click and the squeal of her cell door opening. Her body remained still, but her mind jumped into action. Most ponies wouldn’t be able to react before she was on her hooves and in their face, but she hadn’t lived so long by making assumptions based on most ponies. She had met skilled warriors before who enjoyed acting like foppish politicians, and she was drained from the week of confinement and malnutrition. Perhaps instead she could evade him and bolt down the stairwell.

The keys jingled again, off to the side, and there was the sound of the adjacent cell being opened. One of the cells with an open window. “I suppose I don’t need you to talk to me, even if I’d prefer us to develop a cordial working relationship. Gava is waiting for you in what remains of the woods to the northwest. I do hope you’ll oblige me a proper introduction next time we meet, but until then, I’ll leave you be.”

The trapdoor shut with a solid thud, and Ana waited for the sound of his hoofsteps to recede before jumping to her hooves. She took the room in with one sweep of her wide amber eyes, confirming that she was alone and the two barred doors had been left open. She wasted no time in entering the adjacent cell and poking her head out of the open window. The chill breeze of the open air sent a shiver of pleasure down her back, but she focused on scanning the landscape below for danger instead of indulging in the sensation.

Laborers milled over the estate, putting the finishing touches on the repairs sustained by the manor. The pits of dirt and jagged abysses that had maimed the land had been replaced with fresh grass and brick soil beds blossoming with flowers, bushes, and young trees. The field beyond the walls wasn’t as lucky, still bearing the wounds of Twilight Sparkle’s rampage, though the largest of them had been marked out with brightly painted wooden stakes. Ana looked northwest, easily picking out the mostly burnt out forest in the distance. There were a few soldiers patrolling the grounds or watching from simple wooden posts, all facing outwards, and none of them ever looked up.

Ana gave each of her wings an exploratory flap. Sore, but her exercises had kept the damage to a minimum. She took a few steps back, feeling out the ache in her muscles, and galloped headlong for the window.

The rush of the air in her ears brought a toothy grin to her face, and she flapped hard to gain altitude before filling her lungs with a shockingly cold breath of it. She angled to one side and glanced down at the estate from above. A single pony was crouched on the roof beside a palette of vibrant paints, dutifully filling in the damage done to the battle murals depicted on its surface.

With a mocking salute to her old prison, Ana veered towards the forest. The details grew clearer as she approached, revealing the hollowed out husks of dead trees and the green of fresh growth rushing into the gaps left by the fire. Her heart soared at the sight of Gava waiting patiently atop one of the tallest remaining branches, and she angled lower, picking up speed.

She tackled the griffon with enough force that she had to spread her own wings and flap to keep balance as they embraced each other in a warm hug. Gava’s paws dug into her back. “Good to see that unicorn kept his word.”

“I thought you were dead!” Ana pulled back, tears brimming as she looked into her sister’s dark blue eyes. “That fall must have been a mile at least!”

Gava shook her head and looked away, but not fast enough to hide the wetness in her eyes. “There’s a bunch of old mines in these islands. It wasn’t that hard to grab a passing beam.”

“Well in that case, what took you so long?” Ana gave the griffon a good-natured punch with one hoof, being careful to avoid her bandages. “I would’ve had you out within two days, tops!”

Gava reacted with an exaggerated wince. “And I would’ve been back to try within a day, but stuff came up. Did you meet our new boss?”

“I’m gone for one week and you go and sign us into a mercenary job?” Ana smirked. “You remember the last time you negotiated a job without me? Now that was a jailbreak.”

Gava rolled her eyes. “You’re already making me regret this.”

Ana couldn’t help but laugh as she finally extricated herself from the hug and alighted on the branch at Gava’s side with a little twirl. “I think I met him, yeah. Talks like he knows it all. So what’s the job?”

“Well, as he put it, we’re making a new world.” Gava shrugged at her cocked head. “He wants us on support till it’s done.”

Ana blinked. “You agreed to a job with no limits?”

“Well, uh…” Gava scratched at the back of her head. “I mean, he paid pretty well, and he said there’d be more.”

“Whatever, it’s fine. I can renegotiate it.” Ana waved the matter away with a wing. “Are we gonna be needed soon? I need to get some meat in me.”

“Yes, actually,” Gava said. “Him and the Duke are attending a conference between the bigshot nobles in Altalusia. He wants us keeping tabs.”

“Ah, no wonder he finally bailed me out then.” Ana winked as Gava frowned down at her. “Any particular requests?”

“Just to not be seen, and to watch out for anything exploitable. Looks like they’re leaving now.” Gava nodded towards the estate, and Ana turned to follow her gaze. Three wagons displaying orange banners pulled out from between the open gates, escorted by eight soldiers in similarly-colored tabards. “His name is Whitehorn, by the way.”

“Whitehorn, huh? Sounds kinda familiar.” Ana narrowed her eyes. “How far is the meeting place?”

“Far enough for us to find something to eat on the way there.”

Ana grinned, meeting her sister’s eye. “What are we waiting for, then?”

Together they spread their wings, falling off the branch and letting the air catch them. Ana’s grin only grew wider as they weaved between the trees in search of prey. It had been months since the two of them had gone on a simple hunt together, and the sun warming her back promised a good time to come.

It was a bumpy ride to the conference, though not a quiet one. It never was when Pinkie Pie came along, and the bouncy mare had kept up a steady stream of conversation for the whole journey, pestering poor Pontius with questions about every village they passed and every landmark they saw. He had been enthusiastic in answering her at first, but his resolve was flagging under the endless onslaught. Every now and then he would glance towards Rarity with a desperate, pleading look, and she would grant him a small smile and say a few words, but her mind was elsewhere.

The meeting was to take place at Kingsfall Field, an open, grassy stretch between two forested hills in central Altalusia, and nearly every noble outside the western city was to be there. Tensions were high after the calamity preceding Twilight’s departure from the island, and the nobles were keen to pin the blame on someone.

“Don’t be surprised if it comes to open war,” Whitehorn had warned her. “The Altalusians have never been overly fond of peace, and after years of calm no doubt some of them will be eager to take advantage.”

Rarity winced as the wagon passed over a roughshod wooden bridge spanning a ragged tear in the land. They had needed to use two others before it, sometimes backtracking to do so, and there were more signs of damage besides. She saw windmills lying in pieces on the ground and shattered homes surrounded by sweating families rushing to repair them. In one instance they had passed an entire village burned to the ground. A lantern had been shaken from its place, Pontius had said, and the wood and thatch homes were little more than tinder. No deaths, thankfully, but the villagers had been unable to put the blaze out in time to save their livelihoods.

“Oooh, I think we’re here!” Pinkie exclaimed. She leaned her head out the window, mane bouncing in the open air, leaving Pontius to lean back with a sigh of relief. “Wowee, Rarity, these ponies camp like you do!”

“These ruffians?” Rarity scoffed, waiting for the wagon to turn and bring the meeting grounds into view from the window. “I find that highly—oh my goodness, is that a three-story tent?”

Kingsfall Field was awash with colors. Tents bigger than a villager’s hovel dotted the green expanse, massive banners waving in the air displaying the crests of their owners while soldiers leered at their neighbors underneath in aggressively polished barding that gleamed in the sun. Servants in every color rushed across the encampment with messenger bags slung over their shoulders, darting from one tent to another. In the center one great white tent rose above every other, bereft of flags but bearing far more traffic than the rest as ponies filed inside.

“It seems we’ve arrived just in time,” Pontius said. He shook his head in disdain. “Father says th’ most insignificant nobles always bring th’ gaudiest tents. He’ll be glad to get straight to business.”

“There’s so many,” Rarity said, counting the rows. “There must be at least a hundred tents!”

Pontius nodded. “Aye, but only a few that matter. Th’ earls and barons come mostly for scheming among their rivals, and are unlikely to speak during th’ conference. It’s th’ dukes and counts that shall do th’ decision making.”

“And you know them all?” Rarity asked.

“Aye, my Lady, mostly.”

Pinkie gasped. “Oh, oh, what’s that one?!”

Pontius leaned forwards, squinting out the window to follow her hoof. “With th’ gear and propeller?” Pinkie answered with a trio of vigorous nods. “House Windstrider, from th’ Percheron Demesne to the northwest. I hear th’ heiress recently obtained a cutie mark.”

“Ooooh, snazzy! What about that one?”

Pontius blinked, mouthing hanging open a few moments as he thought. “Ah, that’s Count Tatom’s crest. Aye, his land is just north of ours.”

“And that one?”

Pontius shot Rarity a nervous glance, and she caught Pinkie’s attention with a polite cough. “Darling, surely you don’t expect dear Pontius to recite the details of every noble on the island for you?”

Pinkie cocked her head. “I mean, there’s only a hundred.”

Pontius paled, but was saved by the wagon finally rolling to a stop and the click of the door being opened. Onyx stood on the other side, the soldier’s dark coat only barely visible under his mail and tabard. He looked to each of the occupants in turn, dipping his head in greeting. “We’ve arrived. Countess?”

He extended a hoof to Rarity, who accepted it with a gracious smile as she stepped out onto the springy grass. “Thank you, darling.” She spared a moment to straighten out her outfit, a bright yellow affair that caught the sun like a flower atop a grassy knoll, and ensure the matching hat was properly positioned between her ears.

Next was Pinkie. Rarity and Onyx helped support her weight as she slid out of the wagon, and a second soldier approached to help secure the wheelchair that had been stowed for the journey. She took in a gigantic sniff of the air, scanning the field with an eager grin. The scent of spiced soups and stew drifted past. “Rarity, if you need me, I’ll be at the nearest kitchen!”

She darted off, wooden wheels squealing in complaint. Onyx gestured towards the second soldier with a hoof, and he nodded before jogging gamely after the mare.

Pontius sighed in relief as he climbed out of the carriage. “Yer friend is very energetic, my Lady.”

“One of her most charming traits, dear.” She offered him a prim smile before turning to Onyx, who was eyeing another pair of soldiers as they set up a large tent under the guidance of one of Titus’ servants. “I haven’t seen you all week, Onyx. How are you doing?”

He nodded curtly, but didn’t look at her. “Fine, Countess.”

“And where’s Ivory?” Rarity looked around, searching for the dour pegasus mare. “This must be the first time I’ve seen you two apart.”

Onyx grunted. He turned and met Rarity’s eyes, his lips set into a firm line. “Dead, Countess.”

“O-oh.” Rarity drew back, one hoof rising to her chest. Stupid girl! A soldier disappears after a battle, and you go asking after her like a witless filly! “I, uh—”

“Twas a good death,” he said, cutting her off. “She saved th’ Duke with it, and he honors his warriors.”

Pontius stepped forwards with a stern frown. “Ye interrupt her again and ye’ll be getting lashes when we return home, soldier.”

“It’s fine, darling, really.” Rarity warded him off with a wave, keeping her eyes on Onyx. “I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t know.”

Oynx’s face twisted into a grim smile. “Aye, ye wouldn’t. I don’t blame ye. Ye two had best get t’ th’ conference, if ye plan t’ attend.”

Pontius was still glowering at the other stallion, but Rarity guided his face towards her with a hoof and a smile. “Shall we go, then, Pontius? I’d hate to miss anything.”

Pontius snorted, nostrils flaring, but he relented. His ears twitched low against his head as he led her away from the wagons and deeper into the sea of tents. “Ye shouldn’t let th’ commoners speak to ye that way, Countess. Ye’re a Lady of Canterthusia now, and it isn’t proper.”

“I have little care for what words they use, as long as they’re said with respect,” Rarity countered. “Onyx has been nothing but kind to me since my arrival, and I won’t have him punished for speaking honestly when he’s in mourning.” She pursed her lips as she eyed the soldiers and servants alike milling past in their myriad of colors. “I can’t believe I never heard about her death until just now. How could I be so heartless?”

Pontius shot her a confused sideways look. “My Lady, two dozen soldiers died th’ night of th’ attack. I would hardly expect ye to know of every one.”

Rarity stumbled, one hoof crossing over another and catching on the hem of her dress, and she toppled forwards. She let out a cry, cutting off with a sharp “Oof!” as Pontius stretched out a hoof to catch her.

“My Lady, are ye well?” he asked, looking her over with a concerned frown.

“Oh goodness. I’m fine, dear, thank you.” Rarity got her hooves back under her, using his larger body for support. Then she remembered why she had tripped in the first place, and would have fallen over again if Pontius wasn’t still holding her up. “T-two dozen, you said?”

He gave her a grim nod. “Aye, my Lady, though Nettlekiss lost at least twice as many. Twas a victory, but a red one.”

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “I see.”

“Ye’re shaking.” Pontius glared at the few ponies that had stopped to watch, sending them on their way. “Would ye like to head back?”

“No, no, thank you.” Rarity shook her head as she gently pushed him away and adjusted her mane with a hoof. “Your concern is admirable, Pontius, but we really should keep going. I’d hate to miss anything.”

“Aye, my Lady.” He dipped his head, gaze lingering on her for just a moment before he turned away.

Rarity followed him wearing a mask of carefully measured politeness, her eyes taking in the campsite without seeing. Two dozen dead, including a pony that she had counted among one of her friends, and she hadn’t even noticed. Had she not spent hours in the hectic dining hall of Titus’ manor tending to injured soldiers? It had all become such a blur, and she found that she couldn’t remember if any of the wounded she and Fluttershy had attended had died in their care. She only remembered the tearing of fabric, the stench of blood, the heat of the fires, and Fluttershy’s soft, kind voice guiding her through it all. Her lip trembled as she realized that she couldn’t even remember any of their faces.

She should have noticed the change in the guards. She hadn’t left her room much in the week following the battle, but she had done it enough to walk past guards posted in the halls several times, and what of all the time she had spent peering out from her balcony watching the repairs being made? She had spent so much pointless attention measuring the growth of the new plants, appreciating the masonry of the repaired walls, and not once had it occurred to her that she was walking past soldiers she had never seen before.

Had Ivory had a funeral? Had she been invited? She had sent servants away from her room many times during those dark days.

Despite her brooding, snippets of conversation came to her attention as they weaved between tents, almost all of it carrying the heat of argument. She heard ponies fighting over taxes, conscription, and scandal. A pair of nobles reared up across from each other, armored forelegs jabbing out as they danced around an open clearing surrounded by solemn onlookers, spewing insults about each other’s parentage and honor. Everywhere she looked, baronlanders were arguing, and not one of them mentioned Nettlekiss.

She looked to Pontius. “Isn’t this meeting supposed to be about the attack on your father’s estate? It seems as if they’re discussing everything but.”

“Meetings such as this do not happen often, my Lady,” he said. “Disputes between neighboring lords and ladies often pile up before it’s worth taking th’ trip to resolve them, but as long as we’re here, one pony can confront many others without even leaving camp. Nettlekiss is just one great issue among many smaller ones.”

Rarity nodded, her ears twitching at a barrage of expletives booming from a nearby tent. “I see.”

Not a minute later, she and Pontius were standing in front of the great white three-story tent she had seen earlier at the center of camp. A servant pulled the flap open with a flourish, and Pontius gave him a small nod before beckoning her inside.

“Presenting Sir Pontius and Lady Rarity, hailing from the Duchy of Canterthusia!”

Rarity’s eyes widened as she stepped into the shade of the tent. Lush carpeting had been rolled out over the hard earth and a long wooden table stretched down the middle, laden with steaming plates of colorful foods and flanked by a dozen sitting cushions. Every seat was taken and the nobles in them were all shouting over each other in an attempt to be heard.

“That Nettlekiss has gone too far!”

“I lost a whole village t’ her—”

“—seized my mill durin’ th’ chaos—”

Wooden scaffolding had been erected to the sides, providing a raised surface accessible by stairway from which to watch the proceedings, and already there was a crowd of ponies all dressed in vibrant livery with prominently displayed crests on their flanks. They filled the space above and below the raised platform, snacking from trays carried through their ranks by smiling servants and reclining on wide cushions. They stood in quiet, whispering among themselves. A few curious glances lingered briefly on the new arrivals, but otherwise all eyes were fixed on the table and its occupants.

A weathered stone statue dominated the far end of the tent, tall enough for the head to look down on the ponies on the improvised mezzanine, the details of the face lost to time. It depicted a lean earth pony stallion wearing a simple tunic, his hooves wrapped in cloth and his mane covered by a wide-brimmed helmet. He was crouched in front of a large bow that stood before him, the lower limb secured in the ground with a sharp spike. A barbed arrow was nocked to the string and drawn back by his muzzle.

“—rubble th’ next day! If anythin’ ye should be payin’ me fer—”

“—a burnin’ forest, and only just escaped with his life!”

“Where is th’ harlot? Doesn’t she even have th’ guts t’ show ‘er face?”

Pontius led her deeper into the tent with a polite tug, and Rarity allowed herself to be brought towards the chaos of the table. Titus was seated near the middle on the left side, his usual breastplate hidden behind orange robes embroidered with golden lace. Whitehorn was hunched over behind him, the two in the midst of some quiet conversation, but he waved the unicorn off as he saw the two approaching.

“Ah, there ye are, lad!” He had to raise his voice to be heard even up close. “Ye stand on my right today.”

A boyish grin broke out on Pontius’ face as he took the indicated position behind the Duke’s right shoulder, leaving Rarity standing alone a few steps behind them. “It’s an honor, father.”

Titus slapped his son on the back with a wing. “Ye got yer own wife now, and ye’ve seen real battle. Ye shouldn’t be watching up with th’ riffraff anymore.”

“—stealin’ peasants from my mines—”

“—th’ price of flowers in Friesland is beyond—”

“—and that was just th’ first day!”

Rarity turned her attention to Whitehorn, who had stepped back to join her at a safe distance from the energy of the table. “The Duke seems to have taken a liking to you,” she said.

He dipped into a low bow. “Neither of us are ponies who hold grudges once the deal is struck, Countess. Am I wrong, or is that a new dress?”

Rarity blushed. She turned away with a proud smile, subtly showing off the outfit’s best angles. “You noticed?”

“After spending so long at your beautiful side, my dear, it would be a crime if I didn’t.”

There was a soft humor in his voice, and she raised a hoof to her mouth as a girlish giggle escaped her. “If only the rest of the world felt like you did, darling.”

“All in good time, Countess. We’ll see them come around.”

Rarity looked back at him, meeting his eyes, and the two shared a brief moment. After a few seconds she cleared her throat and looked away, running a hoof through her mane. A lady does not titter like a schoolfilly!

“Ye’re touched in th’ head if ye think I’ll—”

“—doubt any of yer troops could hold their own against—”

“I paid good coin fer that labor and I demand—”

She scanned the room in search of a new topic of conversation. Her attention fell on the statue at the back. “I haven’t seen any bows in Altalusia.”

“They aren’t nearly as common as they once were,” Whitehorn said. She kept her eyes on the statue as he spoke. Words were engraved in a band along the archer’s tunic, but she was too far to read them. “Legend has it that the last king of Altalusia was killed in this field shortly after airship trade began with other islands.”

“There was a king?” Rarity asked.

“There were several,” Whitehorn continued. “Unification was a simpler prospect when there wasn’t any outside interference. The nobles rebelled many times, and sometimes won, but of course another general or diplomat would gather them together in time. The nobles all despise the idea of a king, even though they all secretly dream of the title.”

Rarity nodded, looking to him. “How did he die?”

“An arrow fired by a common archer found the gap in his armor.” Whitehorn let out a low chuckle. “The nobles were so pleased that they immediately granted the archer the title of the king’s home town and declared him of noble blood. He lost the title in another war a few years later, but he did manage to secure his bloodline before he died.”

“Yes, that does sound rather like Altalusia.” Rarity shook her head, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

“Are none of ye gonna speak of th’—”

“—completely insignificant compared t’ th’ affair in—”

“She’s my wife ’n I demand—”

Rarity sighed, curling her lip up at the uncouth display occupying the center of the tent. “Could you explain all this to me, darling?”

Whitehorn raised a brow. “However do you mean, Countess?”

“All—this.” She gestured at the table with a hoof as if she was afraid it would infect her. “I’m trying to understand what I’m seeing, but it just looks like a rabble of argumentative foals.”

“Ah, yes. Well, on a surface level, that’s more or less an accurate description.” He chuckled under his breath. “But yes, let’s see here.” He let out a thoughtful hum as he scratched at his chin.

“First is Duke Titus. You know him, of course. Most powerful noble in the countryside, and liege to much of the eastern coast of Altalusia. Directly opposed and balanced against Duchess Nettlekiss—absent, obviously—and the City of Friesland on the west coast.”

“The city is involved?” Rarity asked.

Whitehorn raised a hoof, nodding. “Certainly, but we’ll come back to it. Next we have Countess Silkie.” He pointed towards a well-groomed mare wearing a yellow tunic emblazoned with a bright red rooster on the front gesturing angrily at her neighbor. “Independent, and with several members of her house living in the city. Her lands border its territory as well, and she sends much trade through its ports. She tries not to upset the Frieslanders too much, but she’s still a country baron through and through.”

“A country baron, you say?” Rarity echoed.

“By which I mean she still hates Friesland and would be done with it at the first opportunity—but again, we’ll come back to that,” he added, seeing the question in her eyes. “That bearded stallion she’s arguing with is Count Dane, also independent, and known to be averse to risk. He’s been having some trouble securing his bloodline, and has a reputation for neutrality during times of conflict.”

Rarity nodded, but saved her questions. She grimaced at the bedraggled beard drooping from Count Dane’s muzzle and the weathered old cape hanging over his shoulder. An image of a dog under a bridge was stitched into the fabric, the colors long since faded.

“Over there we have Count Armet. Honorable, trustworthy, and also independent. He has several skilled foreign craftsponies that he contracts to live on his land, and enough muskets to equip his levies with them. Rarely gets involved in scandal.”

By Rarity’s eye, Count Armet was the best dressed pony at the table. He wore his mane in a long braid, and the design of a helmet in front of a field of trees was embroidered into the shoulders of his coat. He and Titus were the only nobles sitting in silence.

“The rest are vassals of one or the other, or otherwise not worth an introduction. Now about the city.” Whitehorn paused, waiting for a particularly loud outburst from the table to pass. “Friesland holds the ports and controls trade, and is allied with Nettlekiss and her grain farms and her armies. They’ve been an irremovable thorn in the barons’ sides for decades now. Thus the hostility.”

“But now Nettlekiss is weak.” Rarity’s eyes widened. “If the barons unite, then they could have the whole island.”

Whitehorn grinned. “Right you are, Countess. And that means every noble with soldiers to supply has some sway.”

“So they’re all just bickering to make sure they get as much as they can from the opportunity.” Rarity shook her head in disdain. “Of course they are.”

Titus looked back, beckoning at Whitehorn. The unicorn leaned into Rarity’s ear. “I’m afraid I’m needed, Countess. I doubt it’ll make any difference, but you should know that the nobles will not play nicely if you choose to speak up.”

He stepped up to the Duke’s left shoulder, leaving Rarity on her own among the loose collection of less distinguished ponies that formed a circle around the table. She frowned at the implied message from Titus.

Now Titus stood from his seat. Some of the nobles shied back at the sight, but others pressed on.

“She should be stripped of ’er lands!”

“We’ll have ’er hanged!”

“I demand a beheadin’!”

“Quiet!”

The tent stilled, silent but for the flapping of the fabric as Titus projected his deep voice over the assembled ponies.

“I did not call this conference t’ hear ye lot bicker over who was most affected and declare yer punishments of choice,” Titus growled. “I’d rather not have t’ spend even more time dealin’ with foals.”

“Is it true that she attacked ye durin’ yer lad’s weddin’, Titus?” Countess Silkie asked. She dipped her head at Pontius with a small smile. “Congratulations t’ ye, by th’ way.”

“Aye, Silkie, it’s true,” Titus said. Pontius returned the smile with a nod of his own.

Count Dane turned to her, his voice nearly as rough as his beard. “Ye woulda known as much if ye had attended t’ yer invitation, Countess.”

“I had my own business t’ attend, Count Dane,” Silkie countered. “Th’ Duke knows I bear no ill will towards ’im.”

Titus stomped a hoof, cutting off Count Dane’s response. “We’re here t’ speak of Nettlekiss, and by th’ waves, ye can wait till that’s settled t’ indulge yer own rivalries!” He stared them down, receiving a nod from each in turn before continuing. “Nettlekiss hired a griffon mercenary t’ attack me durin’ my lad’s weddin’, and unleashed ’er pet wyrd on all our lands. I think we can all agree that she needs t’ be punished.”

Rarity blinked. Pet wyrd? Was Titus claiming that Twilight had been intentionally unleashed by Nettlekiss like some wild animal she’d dug up from the ocean?

“Aye!” The word came at once from each of the eleven other nobles, reinforced by firm nods, stomped hooves, and raised mugs.

For the first time Rarity had seen, Count Armet spoke up. “Th’ witch’s retinue took great losses at th’ battle. She’ll be raisin’ ’er levies, expectin’ attack.”

“Aye, Count Armet.” Titus gave a firm nod. “I’m willin’ t’ send half of my own retinue on th’ march. With support from each of ye, we could easily storm Castle Urtica. But we must act now, before she has time t’ prepare!”

A round of mutters traveled around the table and a few of the standing advisors leaned in to whisper into their lieges’ ears. Count Dane was the first to speak clearly. “What can mere soldiers do against th’ monster that Nettlekiss controls? I’ll not send ponies t’ die against that thing. We’ve had no war on th’ island fer two years now, and I’m sure Nettlekiss would be willin’ t’ pay t’ make amends fer any unmeant collateral.”

“I killed th’ monster!” Titus retorted.

The table fell silent, disturbed only by the excited buzz of the watchers. Rarity found herself glowering at the back of Titus' head, ears twitching as the ponies behind her gossiped about whether or not one of her best friends was truly dead. Oh, how she wished to round on them all and shame them, to tell them that Twilight Sparkle was not a monster, was never a monster, and not one of them deserved to speak of her that way.

After a few seconds, Count Dane leaned forwards. “Do ye have a body?”

“Are ye callin’ me a liar?”

“I’m sayin’ that ye can’t be sure, and that ain’t good enough fer me!”

With a start, Rarity noticed that Titus was physically growling, the low rumble just barely audible from where she stood. Whitehorn leaned down and said a few words under his breath.

Titus snorted, calming himself. “Ye can split ’er lands among ye. As long as she’s taken care of, I won’t make any claims.”

Countess Silkie hummed thoughtfully. “Ye make a temptin’ offer, Duke Titus, but what’s t’ ensure our own lands don’t fall t’ th’ vultures while we’re away?”

“Honor,” Count Armet said. “We are all honorable lords and ladies, and we would not stoop so low as t’ strike another in th’ back while they’re dealin’ with a clear threat t’ th’ whole island.” He scanned the table, straightening up. “Or would any of ye prove me wrong?”

Nods and appreciative murmurs passed over the table. Rarity frowned as she inspected the nobles, seeing a mixture of pride, greed, and vindictive anger reflected in their eyes. A chill ran down her spine as she understood what was happening.

“So we are agreed, then?” Titus asked. He raised his mug, causing the brew inside to slosh over the edge and drip down the side. “It will be a brief campaign, and by th’ end of it ye’ll all be richer ’n lands and poorer ’n nuisance!”

They’re talking about war. Rarity let out a soft gasp as the seated nobles all shared nods amongst themselves. She thought of Ivory, and of Onyx’s grim expression when he told her of the mare’s death. Two dozen soldiers had died in the surprise attack on the Duke’s estate, plus who knew how many on the invader’s side or innocent civilians caught in the middle. How many more would die if the rest of the island mobilized to destroy Nettlekiss? Rarity didn’t know much of the Duchess, but from what she had heard it would not be beyond the mare to draft every villager in her lands and put them between her and the attacking force.

Somepony had to say something. Her eyes darted to Whitehorn, but he stood silent. Why isn’t he saying something?

One at a time, the other nobles raised their mugs with calls of “Aye!”. Rarity opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat. She had crossed one noble before, and it had cost her hoof in marriage. What would happen if she opposed a dozen all at once? How would Titus react if she countermanded him in front of everyone else?

She raised a hoof to step forwards.

To her shock, the voice that spoke up wasn’t hers. “Friesland will not allow it!”

All eyes turned towards the front of the tent. A stallion stepped forwards with a stern glare, his eyes shadowed by the tricorn on his head. Nettle leaf designs were embroidered onto the shoulders of his long grey cloak.

Titus slammed his mug down onto the table. “What business is this of Friesland’s? Ye lot ought t’ stay out of th’ barons’ affairs!”

“Governor Rhea has extended the city’s protection to Duchess Nettlekiss,” the stallion said. “She has already sent troops with rifles to Castle Urtica, and if you march against the Duchess, you will be cut off from our ports.”

Angry jeers rose up from the nobles, backed up by bitter murmurs from the watching crowd.

Rarity watched as Titus very deliberately stood out of his seat, rising to his full height and bringing the tent to silence. “Ye best stand down, city dog,” he snarled. “Nettlekiss has gone too far, and if ye stand by ’er then ye’ll be ready t’ fall with ’er as well.”

Rarity could see the other nobles calculating, looking to their advisors and exchanging quick words. Her breath hitched as more and more of them turned back to the table with nods of solidarity. With Nettlekiss weakened, they saw their chance to solve two problems with one war, and all it would cost them were the lives of hundreds of ponies.

The tricorned stallion met Titus’ eyes without faltering. “Do you mean to go to war, sir?” he asked. “Take care with your words, as once spoken they cannot be so easily taken back.”

Countess Silkie stood up. “Aye, we mean t’ go t’ war, ye pompous rooster!”

Count Armet followed. “We’ve had enough of yer meddlin’!”

Count Dane glanced between the standing ponies before joining them with a firm nod. “Aye.”

One by one, the remaining nobles stood, declaring their support. All the while Titus and the tricorned stallion stared each other down, and all the while Rarity’s heart beat faster and faster. Could she hold them all in her magic and force them to see reason? There were so many, and what of all the ponies watching in the crowd? And above all else, why couldn’t she bring herself to move?

“Run back t’ yer walls,” Titus said, all twelve seats at the table now empty. “Th’ barons will march t’ war.”

“And you’ll march to your deaths,” the Frieslander responded. “Remember this moment when your precious lands burn.” He turned sharply, his cloak flapping out behind him, and stalked out of the tent.

The nobles all turned to each other with fire in their eyes. Titus grinned. “We’ll meet here again in an hour. Send messengers back t’ yer homes and raise yer levies. Tonight, we eat over plans of war!”

A chorus of “Aye!” filled the tent, and immediately the air was full of excited chatter. The nobles each began to file out into the open air while the crowds bustled about whispering of battles to come. Servants rushed to and fro, snatching the plates off the table and disappearing through two flaps at the back of the tent. Titus brushed past Rarity as he left, followed closely by Whitehorn and Pontius.

All at once Rarity’s body came back under her control. She burst into motion, running to follow them out of the tent. The sun was still high in the sky, and the camp seemed to throb with a new energy. Her mane flapped wildly in the rising wind as she searched for Titus among the crowd.

“Hey, Rarebear!” Rarity yelped in alarm as Pinkie Pie was suddenly in her face. “Whatcha looking for?”

“Sweet Celestia, Pinkie, don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Pinkie cocked her head with a lopsided smile, raising one hoof to boop Rarity’s muzzle. “But I’m right in front of you, you silly filly! That’s not sneaky at all!”

“We don’t have time for this, Pinkie!” Rarity grabbed the pink mare’s shoulders, drawing a shrill squeak from her. “Where is Titus? I need to speak to him right now!”

“Oh, uh, o-okay!” Pinkie let out an exaggerated hum as she looked around. “Over there!”

Rarity followed Pinkie’s hoof, finally picking the orange of Titus’ robe out of a gap in the crowd. She took off without hesitation, not even looking over her shoulder as she shouted, “Many thanks, darling!” back at Pinkie.

“Wait, Rarity!” Pinkie called after her. “Is the dinner canceled? I just finished desert!”

Rarity ran through the camp as quick as she could while dodging the ponies walking every which way. The soldiers had a grim countenance about them, and she could already see messengers galloping out of the camp with saddlebags bouncing on their flanks. Was she too late?

At last she caught up. “Titus, a word, please!”

Titus, Pontius, and Whitehorn all looked back with expressions of annoyance, curiosity, and concern, respectively. He didn’t bother hiding the irritation in his voice. “What do ye need, lass? I’ve business t’ attend.”

“Like Tartarus you do!” She marched up to him, looking up with as much force as she could muster. “You can’t start a war over this!”

Titus blinked. He looked to Whitehorn and then Pontius as an amused grin slowly broke out on his face. “What say ye, lads? Can I start a war over this?”

Pontius looked to Rarity with an apologetic shrug. “My Lady, perhaps ye don’t understand what—”

“No, I understand, darling, though I appreciate your input!” Rarity snapped, keeping her eyes fixed on Titus. “You’re willing to burn this island to the ground if it means a little more power for you, and I won’t allow it!”

“Neigh, ye won’t allow it?” Titus echoed, his eyes wide with false surprise. “What are ye gonna do t’ stop me?”

“I’ll—I’ll—” Rarity’s horn sparked to life as the anger welled up inside her. Why hadn’t she said anything sooner? She had just stood and watched.

Whitehorn stepped in between them. “Countess—”

“Don’t you ‘Countess’ me, you scoundrel!” Rarity rounded on the other unicorn. “Why are you letting this happen? I thought you wanted to help ponies, and now you’re ready to send them to war?!”

He raised his forehooves in surrender. “Rarity, please, let me speak before you try to take my eye out!”

She clenched her jaw, nostrils flaring as she spat the words out. “Go on, then.”

“We need this island unified if we’re to see success at Parliament,” Whitehorn said, speaking cautiously. “Friesland is unlikely to allow a delegation to depart that doesn’t favor them, and they certainly won’t listen to diplomacy.” He sighed, placing a hoof on her shoulder. “War is a terrible thing, yes, but it’s what must be done.”

She slapped his hoof away, jabbing her own into the soft fabric of his vest. “You haven’t even tried diplomacy!”

Titus let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s too late, ye daft mare! Friesland and Nettlekiss have had this reckonin’ comin’ fer longer than ye know, and nothin’ is goin’ t’ stop it happenin’ now.”

“Why not?” Rarity demanded, turning on him. “Let me do it! Pinkie and I will go to Friesland, and we’ll get them to see reason since you clearly won’t! There’s no need for anymore bloodshed!”

Titus laughed in her face. “Aye, and ye’ll accomplish what no noble has in a century, then?”

The light of Rarity’s horn died down as she pushed her anger down into a cold ball of determination. “I think you’ll find that I’m not like any other noble, darling.”

The two of them stared each other down. After several long seconds, Whitehorn cleared his throat. “Perhaps I could offer a compromise?” Both ponies turned to him, and he flashed a quick smile before continuing. “It will take time for the levies to be raised, and I’m sure you’ll be laying the city to siege before any kind of assault, correct?”

Titus nodded. “Aye. A direct assault would be foalish t’ th’ extreme.”

“So then you’ll need time to prepare siege engines.” Whitehorn nodded along as he spoke. “It’ll be weeks before you’re ready to take the city, and maybe months before you finally do. What harm could it do if the Countess and I attempt a diplomatic approach in the meanwhile? At the very worst, we’ll be taken prisoner for you to free after your eventual victory. At best, we’ll unify the island and strike back at Nettlekiss with no unnecessary bloodshed.” He paused to let the words sink in. “I know you have no wish to waste the lives of your ponies on a needless war.”

Titus frowned down at him. His jaw worked side to side for several seconds before he finally gave a small nod. “Aye, there’s no harm t’ it.” He snorted, his frown turning to a small grin. “Yer not much good in a war either way, so I’ll not stop ye if ye seek yer own means of victory.” He leaned in, lowering his voice to a stern growl. “But ye don’t tell anyone outside th’ city I agreed t’ this. I’ll not be seen lookin’ weak fer one mare’s foalishness.”

Whitehorn dipped his head. “You’re quite gracious, my Lord.” He looked sideways at Rarity.

Rarity pursed her lips, brow furrowing, but eventually let out a sigh. I suppose it’s the best chance I’ll have. “Fine, then. Just be ready to put your weapons down when the time comes.”

“Ye have my word, lass.” Titus turned to leave.

“I shall accompany them!”

He paused. Slowly he looked back over his shoulder at Pontius, who was standing resolutely at Rarity’s side. “Ye what?”

“She’s my w-wife,” Pontius stammered, meeting his father’s eyes. “She’ll need someone with martial skill to protect her within th’ walls.”

Titus sighed, turning back to face his son. “Lad, it’s yer first real war. Ye should be marchin’ with troops of yer own and standing by me at th’ war table, not prancin’ around Friesland searchin’ fer peace.”

Pontius gulped, but remained steadfast. “She’s my wife, father. I won’t leave her unguarded.”

“I could assign ‘er a guard,” Titus offered. “And th’ Friesland troops won’t harm ‘er when they know they can ransom ‘er off.”

Pontius just stood there in silence. Rarity laid a hoof on his shoulder. “That’s quite sweet of you, Pontius, but I can take care of myself, and I’ll have Pinkie and Whitehorn with me.”

His eyes darted briefly in her direction before turning back to his father. “It’s th’ right thing to do.”

“Ach, fine!” Titus turned away with a flick of his tail, his wings shuffling with annoyance. “Yer a stallion, I suppose. Do what ye will, lad, but I best not hear ye let yerself be beaten by soft Frieslanders!”

The Duke stalked away at a brisk trot, leaving the three ponies alone in the crowd. Rarity’s heart was still pounding in her chest as she exchanged looks with each of her two companions.

“I’ll need to make some arrangements,” Whitehorn said, turning away. “Meet me at our wagons once you’re both prepared.”

Rarity watched him go before turning to Pontius, who had gone pale in the face. She couldn’t help but smile when she noticed that he was shivering. “That was very brave of you, darling. I appreciate it.”

“A-aye, m-my Lady.”

“Whoa!” Rarity’s heart skipped a beat as Pinkie Pie shrieked into her ear. “Pontisnack, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Rarity sighed, turning to Pinkie with an exhausted smile. “I’m afraid we won’t be making desert, Pinkie,” she said. “At least not until we stop this war.”

Twilight couldn’t stop the butterflies fluttering about in her stomach. She had suffered them ever since waking up that day, and she was beginning to fantasize about pulling them out with magic and eating them whole.

Oh, how vicious, Midnight mused beside her. I like that.

She bit her lip, scanning the ruins again. She could only see a single pair of changelings, the two bug-eyed creatures watching the odd procession pass through the cratered street beneath them in silence. Star Trails was in the lead, followed by Sea Sabre and Flintlock on either side. Rainbow Dash and Applejack were walking just slightly ahead of Twilight, close enough for them to feel the comforting warmth of their bodies, but far ahead enough that they didn’t disturb Spike, who was following dutifully behind her.

They had their helmets back on, and Twilight’s newly acquired night vision had allowed her to take in every detail of their dive suits during the walk to the edge of Canterlot. Her eyes lingered on the stains of changeling blood that painted drooping shapes down their sides. The lack of color in her sight made Applejack’s suit almost look like the bloodstains were an intentional paint job, like the camouflage patterns she had sometimes seen on the outfits of bird watchers and forest rangers that sometimes passed through Ponyville. No such illusion was possible with Rainbow’s; the brash pegasus had painted her armor with lightning bolts and racing stripes, and the blood splattered over the designs obviously didn’t belong.

Applejack glanced back at her. “Y’all sure ya don’t want to travel with us, Twi?” Her voice was dulled by the bulk of her helmet. “It can get mighty lonely on the open road all by yourself.”

Twilight offered up a false smile. “I’ll be fine, AJ. Thank you.” I wish I could be lonely.

No, you don’t, Midnight whispered into her ear. Twilight didn’t waste energy on arguing the point.

“You could at least let us take the Elements,” Rainbow said. She kept her voice low, though it was unlikely that the salvage ponies would hear her from how far ahead they were. “It doesn’t feel right leaving them behind.”

“They’ll be safer here with Spike,” Twilight said. Spike let out a low rumble at the sound of his name, and a pang of anxiety stabbed into her heart. “And we can’t use them anyways.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Rainbow sighed.

Twilight’s pulse quickened as they turned a corner and the tunnel leading out of Canterlot came into view. It was wide enough for many ponies to travel abreast, and tall enough to fit an alicorn with room to spare, but far too small to fit a fully grown dragon. She glanced back at Spike, who snorted curiously at her.

Her hooves seemed to carry her forward of their own accord. She lifted one to Celestia’s necklace, taking comfort in the jewelry hanging over her chest as the tunnel drew ever closer. She had packed everything she would need for the trip: navigational tools from Shining’s kit, his logbook, Spike’s journal, and a few other books containing spells that might be useful and topics that interested her. It was a shame that she could only fit a half dozen books in her bags, and she had spent an agonizing hour deliberating over what to grab. She was almost tempted to run back and spend another couple hours on the matter, but what was the point? She had to leave Canterlot, and stalling wouldn’t accomplish anything.

She just wished she could take Spike with her.

Finally they reached the mouth of the tunnel. Twilight’s hooves came to a stop, and the other ponies looked back questioningly.

“I-I’ll catch up,” she said.

Sea Sabre nodded, leading her team deeper into the tunnel without a word. Applejack and Rainbow exchanged concerned glances.

“Y’all take as much time as ya need, Twilight,” Applejack said.

Rainbow trotted back and gave Twilight a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about Spike, Twi. He’s the big bad dragon around here.”

Twilight huffed out a short laugh, and by the time the two other mares were beginning to disappear behind the curve of the tunnel, that laugh had turned into a sob. She turned around to face Spike, who was hunched low to the ground, his massive head just barely fitting into the mouth of the cave behind her.

He was just lying there watching her with those glittering green eyes, and she could barely form a word. It took her several tries before she was able to get her tears under control enough to speak.

“I-I’ve got to go, Spike,” she said, her voice wavering. He snorted at her, twin gouts of green flame flaring from his nostrils. “Y-you take c-care of the Elements for me, o—okay?”

He cocked his head, the scales on the top and bottom of his head scraping against the stone.

“I’m s-sorry,” Twilight whispered. She raised a hoof and scratched at the tip of his muzzle, and he squeezed his head a little closer to her with a low hum that echoed around the cave like thunder. “You k-know you’re m-my number one assistant, right?”

He shuffled his wings behind him, the ensuing gust tossing her mane into her face, and she choked out a tearful laugh. She reared up and did her best to wrap her forelegs around his muzzle, reaching her hooves around his twisted fangs.

“I love you, Spike.” Her voice was hoarse, and it cracked mid-word. “I-I’ll come back f-for you. Y-you—you’ve d-done good, okay?”

She lay there against him for perhaps a minute, feeling the vibrations of his content humming. He had so many scars. She rubbed a hoof over the hard ridges, trying to connect the marks left by the life he had lived without her to the stories from his journal.

Midnight draped a hoof over her shoulder, the chill contrasting sharply with the heat of Spike’s scales. He’s alive, little flower, and he’ll be alive when we return.

Twilight sniffled. How can we know?

He’s survived this long. It paused, and she could feel its hesitation. Perhaps he could have even beaten us, if he was one of mind.

Spike huffed, and Twilight imagined him laughing at the confession. She smirked, looking up as Midnight looked away with a curl of its lip. Are you trying to comfort me?

I’m trying to get us moving, Midnight shot back.

That’s okay, Twilight teased. It worked.

With one last shuddering sigh, she tore herself away. Spike’s humming stopped as she stepped deeper into the tunnel.

“Goodbye, Spike,” Twilight said. “Be safe.”

She heard him snort behind her, his scales scraping against the stone as he tried to push himself after her. She kept her eyes forward, focused on Midnight waiting patiently ahead, because she knew that if she looked back she would never leave Canterlot again.

We shall return, dragon, it said, and then it too turned to walk by Twilight’s side.

Spike growled. His claws scraped against the rock and his wings beat vainly against the air. Twilight sped up her pace as more thick tears began to fall. The growling turned into a keening whine, and her heart broke.

Twilight’s horn glowed as she cast a bubble of silence over herself, and she wept as she galloped away from the oldest, most loyal friend she’d ever had.

Author's Notes:

It can be hard to leave behind the ones we love the most, especially when we can't help them understand why we have to do it, or that they'll see us again.

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VIII: Of Soldiers

A solid thunk roused Rarity from her sleep, her eyes fluttering open with a startled yelp. The carriage had fallen still at an odd angle. Her horn glowed as she pulled the nearest curtain back, squinting into the dawn sun, and poked her head out the window set into the door.

Onyx was frowning down at one of the wheels in the back. He looked up and dipped into an apologetic bow, revealing the bags under his eyes. “Apologies, Countess. Th’ wheel’s broke.”

“That’s fine, dear. How—oh, my.” She raised a hoof to cover her muzzle as a tremendous yawn passed over her. “How long until we can continue on?”

“It’ll just be a few minutes t’ swap in th’ spare, Countess. Though ye may prefer t’ walk.”

Rarity cocked her head as she followed the orange-clad soldier’s outstretched hoof. A small hill overlooked the path, crowned by a narrow trench and surrounded by a collection of pale tents. A banner fluttered over the peak, the colors only just visible through the shadow cast by the sun: yellow, with a bright red rooster in the center.

“Yes, I think we’ll manage on our own from here, Onyx. My sincere thanks for your service.”

Rarity pulled her head back into the wagon, turning to see Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie rousing from their respective slumbers. It had been a hectic night after the nobles’ conference; Whitehorn and Pontius had traveled forwards with Countess Silkie, while Rarity and Pinkie had made their way back to Titus’ estate with great haste to reunite with Fluttershy and pack appropriate provisions for an extended stay in Friesland. She had barely been able to keep her eyes open when they left the estate again, even with the wagon bouncing and creaking underneath her. The nap she’d stolen during the ride wasn’t nearly enough.

“Is everything okay, Rarity?” Fluttershy asked.

“Just a minor inconvenience, darling.” Rarity swung the wagon door open with her magic. “Fortunately, it’s only a quick walk to our destination. I think it’ll be nice to stretch our legs after so long cooped up, don’t you?”

“I know I do!” Pinkie squealed in delight as she rolled out of the wagon, kicking up a small cloud of dust as she landed on her back in the dirt of the path.

Rarity cringed back. “Pinkie, be careful with that dirt!”

“What?” Pinkie whined, causing Onyx to wince beside her as he fetched her wheelchair. “You’re all the way up there!”

Fluttershy departed next, wings barely disturbing the drifting cloud as she alighted next to Pinkie and helped her up. “You really should be more careful, Pinkie. Rarity works very hard on her dresses.”

“It’s not like she didn’t bring spares!” Fluttershy yelped as Pinkie drew her into a tight hug, whispering loudly into her ear. “Her trunk is full of dresses, Fluttershy! I don’t know how she did it, but she squeezed her whole closet into it. A Rarity closet!”

Rarity smiled with pride as she gingerly stepped out onto the dirt road. “Perhaps if you folded your clothes you could do the same, darling.” Her horn glowed, floating the bags they had packed just a few hours previously and placing them snugly on their owners' respective backs. A few stray strands of confetti slipped out past the flap of Pinkie’s bags, drawing an excited giggle from the pink mare as she strapped herself into her wheelchair.

Next came her wardrobe trunk. “Pinkie, dear, could you carry this for me?” Rarity set her jaw, focusing on the carefully folded clothes inside the heavy tin chest. The carriage groaned in relief, rising up off the strained suspension as it was relieved of the weight.

“No problem, Rarebear! Just hook it onto my train!”

Pinkie’s smile was infectious, and Rarity couldn’t help but match it with her own as she tied her trunk to the back of Pinkie’s chair with a knot of string. Pinkie started up the hill with a cheery hum, the trunk bouncing along behind her as she pronked up the slope. Rarity and Fluttershy followed at a more relaxed pace.

The camp was all but bare of activity; most of the motion came from the yellow banners fluttering in the breeze. Plain white tents were scattered around the foot of the hill in little groups of threes and fours, clustered around the smoldering embers of their fire pits as if seeking refuge from the biting wind. Rarity picked out Whitehorn waiting near the edge of the camp, exchanging a few words with a hawkish unicorn soldier. His ear twitched at the sound of Pinkie’s humming and he turned to the trio with a smile.

“Countess, Pinkie, Fluttershy.” He dipped into a quick bow. “It puts my heart at ease to see you all made it here in one piece.”

Fluttershy shot a nervous glance towards a group of passing soldiers, stepping closer to Rarity’s side. “Um, why wouldn’t we, uh, make it in one piece?”

“You can never be too cautious when there are soldiers on the march,” Whitehorn said. He turned to Rarity, and she was suddenly sharply aware of how she must look after the harrowing back and forth journey. “Pontius is breaking his fast with Countess Silkie right now. She extended an invitation for you to join them.”

“Oh, goodness, already? But I’ve just arrived.” Rarity raised a hoof to her mane with a distressed titter. “And what of Pinkie and Fluttershy?”

“I’m afraid the Countess is not accustomed to dining with those of lower birth.” Whitehorn raised a hoof to beckon Pinkie and Fluttershy towards him. “I’ll get them settled in, Countess. When did you intend to leave, if I might ask?”

“Well, I’d certainly hate to linger too long when there’s a war to be stopped.” Rarity let out a theatrical sigh. “Where am I expected?”

“Countess Silkie’s tent is on the crest of the hill, in the very center. You couldn’t possibly miss it.” Whitehorn dipped into another bow before turning away. “Come along, fillies. There’s much to do.”

With a smile from Fluttershy and a wave from Pinkie, Rarity was left alone among the tents with nothing but her thoughts and the gusting wind to accompany her. She glanced around, eyeing the few soldiers scattered around the otherwise empty camp. Some dipped their heads in respect, but most turned their stony gazes to the horizon.

Raising a hoof to adjust the shade provided by her sun hat, Rarity strode up the hillside with a carefully measured gait. She had to make a brief detour upon reaching the trench at the top to cross using a wooden plank that spanned the gap, the wood bending precariously under her weight. She looked down as she crossed, paled as she saw the sharpened stakes staring back up at her, and sped into a hasty hop to the other side before stopping to recompose herself.

It was just a short walk from there to the top of the hill and the large square tent that commanded it. A pair of guards wearing bright red capes over their shoulders stood out front, and one poked his head inside to say a few words as she approached. The other held the tent flap open, lowering his eyes in respect. Smiling her thanks, Rarity stepped inside.

Pontius and Countess Silkie were seated on cushions around a long, round table laden with plates of steamed vegetables, cheese, and bread. Rolled up maps were stored securely in a small scroll shelf in one corner next to a pair of closed trunks decorated with red lace. The back half of the tent was cordoned off from the front with a thin curtain, but the light streaming through the fabric made it easy to see the small bed and wardrobe behind it. Pontius was wearing his usual breastplate and orange tabard, while Silkie had put a wool coat on over the red tunic she’d been wearing previously.

Both ponies looked up as Rarity entered. Pontius immediately rose up out of his seat, stepped to Rarity’s side, and extended a wing to hover over her shoulder with a wide smile. “Countess Silkie, I present to ye my wife, Countess Rarity.”

Inwardly Rarity couldn’t help but cringe. Outwardly she put on a warm smile of her own and dipped into a perfect curtsey, the fringe of the white cloak draped over her shoulders hanging just off the floor. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Countess.”

Countess Silkie stood to return both the curtsey and the smile. “So it is, lass. We can dispense with th’ titles if ye don’t mind. Just call me Silkie while we’re among ourselves.”

Rarity nodded. “And you may feel free to call me Rarity.”

“I’m glad we have an understandin’, then. Take a seat, will ye? Before th’ food chills.”

Rarity obliged, levitating a cushion to a position a comfortable distance to Pontius’ position before settling into place.

He sat down as well, turning to Rarity. “Silkie and I were just discussing th’ siege.”

Rarity blinked. “Siege? Already? But I thought—well, it’s only been a day!”

Silkie snorted. “Neigh, not quite a siege yet. This is just th’ vanguard. Th’ rest of th’ force shall take a week t’ assemble, at least.” She paused, regarding Rarity with an appraising eye. “I hear ye intend t’ put a stop t’ it.”

“That is the plan, yes.” Rarity’s horn twinkled as she filled her plate as fast as was proper. It had been some time since she last ate, and she expected it might be even longer before she was given another opportunity. “I presume this displeases you?”

“Neigh, I wouldn’t say displeasure is quite th’ word. My lands are the closest t’ Friesland, and most likely t’ burn if we’re unable t’ break them. A quick surrender would be best fer all parties, at least fer now.”

Rarity frowned, but couldn’t respond with her mouth full. She raised a hoof to signal that she had something to say, covering her muzzle as she swallowed. “How do you mean, for now? Surely that would be the end of it?”

“Well, that’s just it, isn’t it? If th’ city has an army in its streets ’n a blade t’ Governor Rhea’s neck, well, we take what we want and that’s that,” Silkie leaned forwards. “But if we’re speakin’ of negotiations, then they’ve got a bit more t’ bargain with, eh? Suddenly compromise becomes an option, as much as th’ barons’ll hate it. Maybe they throw Nettlekiss t’ th’ dogs after all in exchange fer their continued independence, and they open their ports t’ whatever we please fer a time, but that doesn’t solve th’ matter. The city’s still there, and in a few years once th’ treaties expire and some other quarrel rears up, I’ll be right back here drawin’ up th’ same lines.” She paused, leaning back with a wistful expression. “Though I’ll be sure t’ get some more cannon in between.”

“But why does there have to be another quarrel?” Rarity asked, gesturing with a hoof. “There’s no reason you can’t all get along!”

Silkie chuckled, reaching a hoof to give Pontius a good-natured shove. “Where’d yer father find such a mare as this, lad? And Gifted, too!”

Pontius nodded with a tentative smile. “She is certainly a remarkable mare.”

Silkie turned back to face Rarity, who was watching her with a stern frown. “Th’ barons and th’ city have been clashin’ ever since th’ first ships showed up, lass. When th’ last king fell, we were all so busy squabblin’ over who’d be th’ next one that we didn’t even notice th’ city had become its own power until it started threatenin’ t’ cut us off if we crossed it. That was generations ago, and it’s only gotten stronger since. If we don’t stop it, I figure eventually the governor’ll decide she’s in charge of th’ whole island, and by then there won’t be nothin’ t’ do but go along. Can’t be more than a few decades off now.”

“So if you don’t defeat it decisively, then it’ll take over the whole island,” Rarity said. She pursed her lips, frowning down at her plate.

“Aye, now yer gettin’ it. Maybe not every baron knows it yet, but one of us is gonna have t’ give in t’ th’ other in th’ end, and I don’t think th’ winner’s gonna give th’ loser a second chance.”

“Or,” Rarity began, looking up to meet Silkie’s eyes, “a mare of proper manners teaches you how to live in peace.”

“Ach, yer worse than that Whitehorn lad.” Silkie waved a hoof in the air with a scoff. “Idealist nonsense.”

Rarity cocked her head. “You know Whitehorn?”

“Of course I know ’im!” Silkie snorted. “First time Titus sent ’im away empty-hooved, he did some diggin’ and came sweet-talkin’ me next. Th’ stallion’s relentless.”

“What did he want from you?” Rarity asked.

“My help with Titus.” Silkie smirked. “Old soldier’s still got a soft spot fer me.”

“O-oh.” Rarity glanced towards Pontius, eyes wide. He had his eyes very intently focused on a hunk of bread on his plate. “So you’re—”

“Neigh, lass, nothin’ like that.” Silkie shook her head wistfully. “Just a few years of fun, back before politics took over our lives.”

“Ah. Of course.”

Unsure what else to say, Rarity turned her attention back to her food. Countess Silkie seemed content to sip at her drink and reminisce in silence, and Rarity saw no reason to interrupt, so she occupied herself by grabbing a long slice of bread from the middle of the table in her magic and applying a thin coating of butter. Not too much, of course; she had to watch her figure.

So conflict was inevitable, or so Silkie believed. Surely there was some way the two sides could coexist in peace? These negotiations would be even more important than Rarity had thought; she would not have to just stop one war, but perhaps even find a way to stop them all.

The boom of thunder rolled over the tent. Rarity looked up with a jump, seeing her own surprise reflected in Pontius’ eyes as the plates, table, and even the ground under their hooves seemed to shudder in sympathy.

Silkie, however, let out a groan of exasperation. She raised a hoof to rub at her temple and shook her head. “That daft idiot…”

“Goodness, that was unexpected.” Rarity let out a breathy titter. “The sky was still clear when I arrived.”

“That’s not thunder, I’m afraid.” Silkie popped a square of cheese into her mouth and stood up, continuing to speak as she chewed. “That’ll be th’ Frieslanders.”

Rarity blinked. “The Frieslanders?” Two more booms joined the first in quick succession, knocking over Silkie’s mug and spilling its contents onto the ground.

“Feel free t’ stay and eat t’ yer fill, Rarity. I expect I’ll be needed.” She slipped out of the tent, drawing her wool coat closer as she turned into the wind.

Rarity turned to Pontius. “Do you know what she means, darling?”

Pontius’ lips were set in a grim line. “Aye, my Lady. Th’ Frieslanders are th’ name of the great mortars that defend th’ city. They must have just fired.”

“W-what?” Rarity shot out of her seat as her pace quickened. “Are we in danger? What of my friends?”

Pontius stood up as well, raising a calming hoof. “Ye need not worry! Th’ camp is well outside of their range. Most like they were just firing upon th’ vanguard in th’ field.”

“And we’re sitting here eating bread and cheese?” Rarity scooped a daisy sandwich up in her magic as she stormed out of the tent, tearing half of it off in one bite and scanning the horizon. She hadn’t realized it before, but the hillside gave an excellent view of the surrounding land. It was mostly open farmland, broken only by scattered hills, copses of trees, and simple cottages, with the high walls of Friesland dominating the horizon to the west. There was a flash of light from atop the wall, and the rumble of thunder followed a few seconds later.

She looked down into the fields surrounding the city, where a group of ponies were running frantically towards the camp. She flinched at the sudden blast in their midst, throwing up thick clods of dirt and—she gasped, falling onto her haunches as a hoof rose to her chest. Were those limbs flying through the air? The half-eaten sandwich fell to the ground beside her as a surge of bile threatened to eject her breakfast.

Pontius came up beside her, his wings hovering just a few inches from his sides. “My Lady, we should make fer our tent! We should be careful not to get in th’ way.”

Rarity barely heard him. She burst into motion, her carefully manicured hooves digging into the dirt as she leapt over the trench and down the hillside. Her mind was back in Titus’ dining room, accompanied by the stench of blood.

The fleeing soldiers swarmed into the camp in a rush, bringing with them the moans of their wounded. The red of their uniforms made it impossible to see the bloodstains as ponies were dragged into a long white tent towards the center of the camp, some of them missing limbs. Rarity caught sight of Countess Silkie in the middle of it all exchanging heated words with a panting earth stallion, and she angled herself towards them.

“Forgive him, Countess,” the soldier was saying, his head lowered. “Th’ Captain gave us th’ order t’ chase, Countess, and he right paid fer it. Lost both legs in th’ first shot, Countess. We had t’ leave ‘im behind.”

“Idiot foal, chasin’ skirmishers int’ cannon range!” Silkie swore, stomping her hooves. “Tartarus! Get yer wounded seen t’, Sergeant, and establish a picket with those that’re able t’ walk. Did th’ Frieslanders give chase?”

The sergeant shook his head. “They just about disappeared th’ instant we lost sight of ’em, Countess.”

“Ach, I suppose it’s too much t’ hope th’ commander on their side would be as fool as mine,” Silkie grumbled. “Yer dismissed fer now, Sergeant.” She looked up as Rarity approached, fixing her with a commanding glare. “Countess Rarity. I’m afraid yer needs will have t’ wait, whatever they may be. I must see t’ my ponies.”

Rarity hesitated as she came to a stop, heart racing. The mare she faced now was a far cry from the one she had just eaten with. “I only wish to help, Countess. Where am I needed?”

Silkie arched a brow. “Ye ain’t needed anywhere in here, fer certain.”

“But—surely the wounded—”

“We have healers of our own,” Silkie snapped. “I ain’t th’ fool that marches t’ war with no accommodation fer my troops. If ye wish t’ lend aid, ye can find th’ triage tent yerself, but if ye wish t’ make a difference?” She jerked her head west, towards the thin layer of trees that ran between the camp and the city. “Ye go do yer talkin’, and leave th’ fightin’ t’ those that know how.”

Rarity stared open-mouthed as Silkie marched away without even waiting for a response. After a few seconds a pained scream from the triage tent shook her from her trance. She turned towards it just as Pontius caught up to her, breathing hard.

“My Lady, please—”

“Come with me, darling!” Rarity galloped towards the triage tent, bursting through the open entrance and into the chaos within. At least two dozen soldiers were strewn around the tent, huddled up on soiled bedrolls while a few able-bodied healers rushed between them, shouting commands for healthy troops to fetch them water or alcohol or linens or tools. Fluttershy and Pinkie were already among them, hunched over a green unicorn mare with a missing leg.

“Oooh, hold on, Night Rose!” Pinkie had one of the mare’s forelegs clutched in her own, holding her attention while Fluttershy worked on the severed stump. “And don’t you worry, cause you don’t need four legs to dance! As long as you’ve got a tune inside you, you can dance with your heart!”

Night Rose blinked slowly up at Pinkie, her mouth hanging open in a faint frown, but said nothing. A piece of ripped cloth had been tied tight around her leg, slowing the bleeding to a trickle.

Rarity skidded to a stop at Fluttershy’s side. “Fluttershy, Pinkie! How can I help, dears? Do you need me to fetch anything for you?”

Fluttershy gave a slight shake of her head, but kept her eyes focused on the wound as she cleaned it with a dampened cloth. “That’s okay, Rarity. Brownie is bringing my kit for me.”

Rarity frowned. “Brownie?”

“It’s what I named ’Shy’s pet bear!” Pinkie chirped. “Remember the little baby she found in the woods? She’s brown and she’s sweet and I just wanna gobble her up, ahh!”

It was at that moment that Rarity saw a bear cub stumble into the tent, its body almost completely hidden beneath Fluttershy’s saddlebags. It waddled up to Fluttershy’s side, settling down with a muffled grunt.

“Thank you, Brownie,” Fluttershy said, reaching over to open one of the bags and pulling out a small jar. She popped it open with her mouth and dipped the tip of a primary in its contents, using the feather to dab the thick paste inside over the wound. “Just a little bit of this, and then we can get a bandage on and take that nasty tourniquet off.”

Rarity grimaced as she watched the wounded mare squirm and groan on the bedroll in spite of Pinkie’s best attempts to distract her. Looking around, she saw a wounded stallion gasp out a haggard breath and fall still on his bedroll. A healer came by, checked the stallion’s neck for a pulse, and barked some words to a pair of watching soldiers. Slowly they bent down to pick the dead pony up and carry him out of the tent.

All this pain, and on only the first day. Rarity’s hooves kneaded at the ground. She desperately needed to do something, but Silkie was right: she wouldn’t be making a difference here. This was an army camp, and there was already a dedicated detachment of healers working to save lives, and they had no need of one more mare to fetch bandages or hold wounds. The tent was clogged with bodies as it was.

The heat in the air was too much. “I-I’ll be outside if you need me, girls.”

The chill air outside the tent was a sweet relief compared to the stuffy interior. Pontius and Whitehorn were standing a short distance from the open flap, and she turned to join them.

“Ah, Lady Rarity.” Whitehorn dipped into a low bow. “Is all well?”

“Nothing is well,” Rarity said, looking west. “We should be in Friesland already.”

“Already? Surely some time to rest and plan can only do good,” Whitehorn said.

Pontius nodded. “Ye must be exhausted after yer travels last night, my Lady. Ye should rest.”

“I won’t be getting any sleep in this camp, that is for certain!” Rarity shot back. “Not when there are ponies dying a few steps away and I’m not doing anything to help them!”

Pontius and Whitehorn flinched back. The latter’s eyes darted towards the triage tent as another body was hauled out, his lips set in a grim line. “It is a dirty business, war. I admit I’ve never had a stomach for it, myself. How is it looking in there?”

“Why don’t you go see for yourself?” Rarity asked, curling her lip at him. Come to think of it, where had he been during the surprise attack on Titus’ estate? She shook her head, dislodging the distracting thought. She had to focus on what mattered. “I want to leave as soon as possible.”

Whitehorn raised his hooves in surrender. “Well, I certainly know better than to argue with you when you have that look on your face. Countess Silkie’s provided us with a white flag, but I’d advise you give it an hour or two at least. Battle was just met, and it’s best not to approach soldiers while their blood is still hot.”

Rarity nodded. As much as the waiting would kill her, it made sense. “Very well. We leave as soon as Fluttershy and Pinkie are finished with the wounded.” She took a deep breath, forcing her racing heart to slow, and looked between him and Pontius. “Until then, I suppose we can spend some time discussing our approach.”

Useless.

Silence had always been a rare treat aboard the Argo. The ticking gears hidden behind the walls, the bursts of steam venting from the pipes, the rattling of the metal plating and the buzzing of the propellers had been Rainbow’s constant companions for most of her time in the drowned future. They had annoyed her at first, but with time she had come to find comfort in the staccato melody of the ship’s song.

Why am I so useless?

But the ship was laughing at her now. She paced through the darkened halls, the pale starlight of the fading night mixing with the feeble yellow of dawn before filtering through the passing windows in tight columns. The gears gossiped in her wake, sharing sinister jokes with the metal plating that nattered away underhoof. She approached a door, and the steam vented by its opening tickled at her ears. The door slammed shut behind her, steam hissing at her back as she stalked away.

“I’ll be fine, girls. Don’t worry about me.”

A few words exchanged, a heartfelt hug, and then they had climbed back into the submarine and made for the surface. Star Trails had made for the flight deck to plot a course to the Frozen North—now known as The Grey—and Flintlock had been almost literally tugged to the medical room by Dusty Tome to have his burns examined. Sea Sabre had spared her a firm nod before vanishing to wherever she had gone.

Rainbow had walked with Applejack to the cargo hold to check on Luna, and then the cowpony had put her hat on and announced she felt like “a half-strung haybale” before slipping into her quarters. Rainbow was left alone with her thoughts.

She had flown up on top of the ship’s balloon and run through her stances for hours. She had polished and oiled her wingblades almost to the point of damage. She had stood in the little supply closet where she’d lost her eye, staring at the too-clean floor where the faded brown stain was supposed to mark the panicked motions of her wings through her blood. Who had scrubbed it clean?

It was past dawn now and she still couldn’t rest. She should be out in the open air, feathers catching the wind, speeding north with every pump of her wings.

A door opened in front of her with the hiss of steam and she found herself stepping onto the flight deck. Sunfeather was nowhere to be seen, but Star Trails looked up from where she stood on the control dias.

“Oh, hey, Dash.” She smiled in greeting before turning her attention back to the controls. “You’re up early.”

Rainbow’s tail flicked side to side behind her. She didn’t feel like talking, but now she was trapped. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Wow, been up all night?” Trails chuckled as she shook her head, her navy blue mane sweeping over her shoulders. “Flint always crashes into bed and sleeps like a brick after a dive.”

Rainbow realized she was clenching her jaw. She forced herself to take a deep breath, wings shuffling at her sides as she stepped down to the lower level that held the controls. “What about you?”

Trails didn’t answer for a few seconds. She consulted a chart splayed out over several knobs besides her. “Well, I’ve always been one of Luna’s children. I do my best work at night.”

Rainbow nodded, but Trails was too busy with her work to notice. She seemed content to fiddle with the controls in silence, and Rainbow saw her opportunity to leave. She turned for the exit, but her hooves wouldn’t move.

Why did you shoot Twilight?

She shook her head, her eye squeezed tightly shut. She didn’t want to talk. She wanted to be alone, but the question just kept bouncing around inside her head, louder and louder. Her wings twitched at her sides. She felt naked without her blades.

Why did you shoot Twilight?

She should leave it be. She couldn’t leave it be. Rainbow Dash would never let harm come to one of her friends, and yet it would have happened anyways. She was in the ruins again, watching that murderous javelin fly for Twilight’s heart. What would she have done if it had struck true?

“Why did you shoot Twilight?”

Rainbow blinked, startled by the sound of her own voice. She heard a sharp inhalation behind her, and turned to see Trails looking at her with tired green eyes.

“W-what do you mean?”

“You tried to shoot her.” Rainbow was in the other mare’s face now, her wings flared out. What was the point of all the training if she still couldn’t protect the ones she loved? Darkness crept into the corners of her vision as she raised a hoof and shoved Trails back. “You tried to kill her!”

Trails stumbled back, raising her hooves in surrender. “It was an order, Dash! Sabre doesn’t give them lightly, and when she gives them, you follow.” She paused before adding in a quieter voice, “That’s just how it works.”

“That’s how it works?” Rainbow spat. She slammed into Star Trails with a vicious snarl. The unicorn cried out as she was brought to the ground, flinching back as Rainbow screamed into her face. “You tried to kill my best friend!”

“D-Dash, stop!” Trails raised her forelegs in defense. “I—I didn’t—”

“Let me show you how this works!” Rainbow’s voice broke as she raised a hoof. Trails squirmed beneath her, but she was helpless underneath the pinning force of the pegasus’ beating wings.

“Rainbow Dash, stand down!”

The command wrapped around Rainbow’s body like a vice, holding her back, and Trails seized the moment to kick her off and scramble back to her hooves. Rainbow blinked, the anger falling to confusion as she looked up to see Sea Sabre frowning down at her.

“Sabre—”

“No!” Sabre stomped a hoof. “I will not have you, nor anyone else, attacking my ponies on my ship!”

Rainbow shrunk back, wide-eyed under the sheer force behind the words. She’d been on the receiving end of Sabre’s shouted commands many times during her training, but this was different. She’d heard Sabre be demanding, stern, even disappointed. But as she looked up into those fiery red eyes and the sharply angled brow above them, Rainbow realized that this was the first time she was seeing Sabre angry.

Rainbow’s own outrage rose to the challenge, her wings catching the heat in her chest and pushing her off the ground as she shouted back, “She attacked my friend!”

“She was following my orders!” Sabre snarled, her own wings flaring. “Twilight was a threat to my crew, and I don’t take risks with their lives!”

“You think you’re always right, don’t you?” Rainbow shot back. “You can’t stand the idea that you might have made the wrong choice! She was just trying to protect Spike, and you tried to kill her for it!”

“Guys, chill!” Star Trails called out. “This is crazy!”

“I’ll handle this, Trails!” Sabre said, keeping her glare on Rainbow. She took a deep breath, folding her wings at her side. When next she spoke, her voice was almost too quiet to hear. “You’re right.”

Rainbow frowned, hovering mid-air with her brow furrowed. “W-what?”

“I made a bad call, Rainbow,” Sabre said, her eyes hard. “I’m not perfect. I have to make quick decisions with what I know.”

“Well, uh, looks like you two have this handled,” Trails said, slipping past Sabre and towards the door. “I’ll handle morning corrections after breakfast, Boss. See you later!”

With a hiss and a thud, the two pegasi were left alone in the room. Rainbow’s wings drooped at her sides as she slowly lost altitude, her hooves coming to rest against the floor. Without any resistance to rally against, the anger in her chest sputtered out, leaving only a cold emptiness behind.

“I—I don’t know what I would’ve done,” she said. “If she’d died.”

Sabre’s eyes softened as she climbed down the steps to the lower level and placed a hoof on Rainbow’s shoulder. “I understand. I don’t blame you.”

“How could you understand?” Rainbow asked. All she could think about was that moment in the dark depths of Canterlot, watching a javelin fly for her best friend’s heart, every muscle burning with exertion and her mind racing to find some way to stop it. In the end, she hadn’t been good enough. She might as well have not even been there. She bit her lip as a shudder ran through her body.

Sabre didn’t say anything. The gears gossiped in the corners of Rainbow’s ears, causing the floor to vibrate beneath her as if barely restraining a laugh, and yet she couldn’t stop the words from flowing.

“I wasn’t tough enough to beat Gava. I’m not skilled enough to beat you. I wasn’t fast enough to stop Star Trails. Every time one of my friends is in danger, I’m not good enough to save them. How could you ever understand that?” Rainbow looked towards the sun, clenching her jaw and surrendering to the burning in her eyes. “You never make mistakes.”

Sabre let out a soft snort. “I thought I was wrong to order the attack on Twilight?”

“No you weren’t!” Rainbow’s voice cracked. “I wasn’t even sure of it myself. I spent the whole dive up to that moment wondering if I’d have to—if I’d have to s-save her from herself, you know?” She shook her head as her vision began to blur, tears dripping down both cheeks. “I was so close to d-doing it myself, but I would’ve been wrong. I came so close to killing my own best friend, and I hate myself for it!”

“It’s not your fault,” Sabre said, squeezing her shoulder. “Come on. I’m going to show you something.”

There was a part of Rainbow that bristled at the command in Sabre’s voice. The rest of her was exhausted, and was beginning to feel a creeping embarrassment. She took a deep breath as she blinked the tears away, straightening up. “O-okay.”

Sabre beckoned with a wing, leading her out into the hall outside the flight deck, past the medical room, and to a nondescript door of thin metal by the top of the stairs that led down to the lower level. It opened with a soft click, the hinges swinging open without complaint.

Rainbow peered past Sabre’s shoulder with a curious frown. A simple cot was pushed up against the left wall, supporting a mattress, pillow, and sheet that all looked too thin for comfort. Against the opposite wall was an old wooden desk, its surface protected behind a closed rolling cover. The far wall was shared by a wide bookshelf, short enough so as to not block the light from the one window, and a weapon rack where a set of gleaming wing blades were carefully hung.

“What’s this?” Rainbow asked.

Sabre stepped inside, beckoning with a nod of her head. “My quarters.”

Rainbow’s brow furrowed as she followed. “This is it?”

“What were you expecting, gold engraving and landscape paintings?” Sabre smirked as she rolled the cover on the desk open. “No, the bits are better spent elsewhere. It’s hard for me to find comfort in too much comfort, either way.”

Whatever that means. Rainbow walked up to the bookshelf, leaning closer to inspect the titles. On the lower shelf she picked out a few that she recognized from stories she’d been told as a filly in Cloudsdale, such as Sun Jay and the Argomares and The Siege of Pegasopolis. She pulled the latter out, a small smile tugging at her lips as she saw the colorful image of a cloud city occupying the cover. Looking up, she saw the books on the higher shelf were much thicker, with long titles written in small, blocky font that she had to squint to read.

“Do you read?”

Rainbow jumped, turning to see Sabre eyeing her impassively. “U-uh—I mean, a little bit, I guess. I used to.”

Sabre nodded to the book in Rainbow’s hooves. “That story is one of my favorites. Is it true?”

“Um.” Rainbow hastily reshelved the book. “I don’t know. It’s just a myth I recognized from when I was a filly.”

“So that story survived the end of Equestria.” Sabre let out a thoughtful hum. “Maybe some ponies really will be remembered forever.”

“Did you bring me here to talk about books?” Rainbow asked, tail flicking behind her. “I’m not really in the mood.”

“Not those books, no.” Sabre stepped aside, gesturing to the surface of her desk. “This one.”

Rainbow stiffened. A small notebook bound in black cloth rested on the center of the desk, flanked on one side by quill and ink. She’d seen it a few times before, cradled between Sabre’s hooves as she ate dinner in the mess hall or propped up between charts while she checked over the ship’s course. She’d asked Flintlock once about the book’s contents, but he had only laughed and shaken his head.

She took a tentative step forwards, reaching a hoof out to flip the cover open. Carefully spaced lines of clean, rigid script waited inside. She leaned in to scan the first line.

Astral Thunder, 17. Plays harmonica. Lost two legs when cannon shot penetrated his cover. X

She blinked, looking up to meet Sea Sabre’s gaze. “What is this?”

“A record,” she said. She paused, looking to the window while her jaw moved side to side. “Every pony I’ve ever had under my command.”

Rainbow wasn’t sure what to say to that. If the look in Sabre’s eyes was any indication, maybe it was best not to say anything at all. She turned her attention back to the book.

Sunflower, 16. Carries flowers to give foals. Hip broken by sniper fire.
Velvet Crunch, 17. Volunteered along with siblings. Ear bitten off during ambush.
Ivory Eyes, 35. Speaks fondly of husband’s cooking. Shot in the face breaching a building. X

Rainbow licked her dry lips, her missing eye pulsing with a phantom pain as she scanned further down the page, and then to the page after, and the one after that. Names and ages were accompanied by short descriptions of personality and final fates. Sometimes there would be brief stretches where as many as a dozen ponies would leave Sabre’s care whole in body and mind, but these were rare. In one case she saw ten names all marked as dead, all with the same cause listed: crushed in collapsing building under artillery fire. Still the names went on. Rainbow shook herself, flipping through several pages in quick succession.

Aqua Aura, 30. Enjoys ocean swimming. Interrogated to death by griffon mercenary. X
Ice Charm, 29. Loses half of each paycheck courting mares. Retired healthy after big payout.
Silver Shine, 24. Designs board games with trinkets found in ruins. Suit malfunction. X

The names kept coming. The next page went blank about halfway down.

Star Trails, 25. Dives for curiosity instead of greed.
Dusty Tome, 37. Writes fiction in his spare time.
Sunfeather, 35. Brightens up when around family.

Rainbow blinked, looking up with a frown. “Where’s Flintlock?”

Sabre was leaning against the wall, still as a statue. “First page.”

The pages fluttered under Rainbow’s hoof. There, near the bottom of the first page, was a line she had skimmed over before.

Flintlock, 20. Stocks up on cider during family reunions.

Rainbow shook her head, eye wide. “He’s been with you all this time.”

“Just over eleven years,” Sabre said.

“And… all these other ponies?” Rainbow looked up.

“There’s something about being Gifted.” Sabre narrowed her eyes, her wings shuffling at her sides. “When you get a cutie mark, you’re an adult. Some ponies will send you into battle even though you aren’t ready, and even more will follow you.” She paused, stepping up closer to look down at the list of names in the notebook.

“There’s an island far southeast of here. Berchninny. War broke out a little after my 15th birthday, and I signed up. It felt right, I guess. I got my cutie mark a few months later, and they gave me a squad. Flint’s mercenary company was involved too, and he ended up attached to my platoon.

“It was urban warfare. House to house, and artillery going day and night. One day our unit was cut off, surrounded. Most of us didn’t make it back, the lieutenant included. We were short on ponies, and there I was with a blade burned on my flanks, so some brass somewhere decided I should be the one to take charge. Nobody else protested.” She pursed her lips, her nostrils flaring. “Idiots.”

“I learned a lot of lessons in that war, but I didn’t pay for any of them. The higher ups didn’t care as long as I won the day in the end. They just kept giving me—” she paused, shaking her head “—more ponies. Ponies even younger than I was, sometimes. I couldn’t leave them to fend for themselves; I had no choice but to keep going. There were a few times I came close to breaking, but I couldn’t do it. They were counting on me to protect them, so I learned, and one day I stopped feeling like the world was ending every time another fresh face showed up.”

Sabre reached over and flipped the book closed. “I was a soldier by the time the war ended. There was no going back to how things were, so Flint and I struck out on our own. Mercenary work is better, anyways. You can turn down the suicide missions and stay away from the wars.”

Rainbow looked down at the book in silence. She thought back to the battle at Altalusia, where she had sliced through flesh and broken bone thinking only of protecting her friends and the innocent villagers caught in between. Did those soldiers have their names written down in another book like this, alongside an ‘X’ and a short sentence that read, “Cut down in an instant by a pegasus with a rainbow mane”?

She looked up at Sabre. “Why are you showing me this?”

“We all make mistakes, Rainbow. Even me.” Sabre paused, a distant look in her eyes. “We can only do what we think is right at the time, and sometimes it’s hard, and sometimes we’re wrong. I don’t think Twilight would blame you for your thoughts, and I don’t think she’d want you tearing yourself apart over it. When it comes down to it, you’re the one that prevented the situation from escalating.”

“Yeah.” Rainbow straightened up as she felt the weight lifting from her shoulders. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Good.” Sabre stepped back with a firm nod. “You look terrible. Get some rest.”

“Thanks, Sabre. I needed this.” Rainbow stood up and started towards the door. She paused in the threshold as a thought occurred to her, looking back over her shoulder. “I do have a question, though.”

Sabre arched a brow. After only a brief hesitation, Rainbow pressed on.

“How do you deal with the times you really do mess up?” She paused, licking her lips. “You know, when it really counts?”

Sabre looked away. Her jaw worked side to side for a few seconds before she answered, her eyes focused on something unseen. “You just tell yourself they were the right mistakes to make.”

Rainbow wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She felt like she should say something comforting, but she realized that she couldn’t find the words. Part of her wondered if Sabre would even hear them.

“I’ll see you for training later,” she said, walking out into the hall.

“Fluttershy, darling, you can’t be serious.” Rarity gestured helplessly with a hoof. “On your own, in the camp?”

“Well, um, I won’t really be alone.” Fluttershy looked down and pulled the bear cub at her hooves into a one-legged hug. “I have Brownie with me, after all.”

They were assembled at the edge of the camp, which had since settled from the hectic post-battle rush into a tense calm. The soldiers were back around their tents, laughing at jokes shared in raucous voices as they passed bottles of booze around in defiance of their close calls and bandaged wounds. Some campfires were quieter than others, either due to a lack of numbers or a lack of energy, but the healers had done good work, and casualties had been kept low.

Rarity had spent the two hours since the battle in front of a mirror borrowed from Countess Silkie’s tent, distracting herself with the careful application of makeup and discussions of diplomacy. No makeup could ever truly substitute for a proper beauty sleep, but she did feel somewhat more confident about striding into Friesland and calling for peace now that she looked less like a ragged drifter and had replaced her traveling clothes with a pale blue dress more suitable for a diplomat.

That confidence had begun to crack, however, when Fluttershy had told them that she intended to stay behind.

“But do you really have to, Fluttershy?” Pinkie asked, her brow creased with worry. “I just—I don’t think it’s a good idea to split up like this. What if something happens?”

“I have the whole army with me, girls” Fluttershy said. “I know I’m not, um, as tough as you two are, but this is where I can make the most difference.” She blushed, hiding behind her mane, and forced her next words out in a quiet rush. “And if I’m being honest, I think the idea of, um, facing down all the mean ponies in Friesland scares me more than staying behind and helping here.”

Whitehorn cleared his throat from behind them. “She’ll be safe in the camp. It’s well outside the range of the walls, and she’ll come to no harm from the troops here.”

“Yes, I know, of course, but I just—” Rarity sighed, shaking her head. “Bad things tend to happen when we split up.”

“Rarity.” Fluttershy stepped close, placing a hoof on Rarity’s shoulder and meeting her eyes. “I can’t talk to ponies like you or Pinkie do. I would only get in the way if I came to Friesland, and I’d hate to hold you two back from doing what you do best.” She blinked, as if suddenly realizing how firm she’d been speaking, and looked down to her hooves. “So just, I mean, let me do what I do best, OK? I mean, as long as you don’t mind.”

Rarity couldn’t help but smile at the display. She rushed forward and pulled Fluttershy into a tight hug, drawing a startled squeak from the mare. “Very well, darling. But do take care of yourself.”

Pinkie joined the hug with an affectionate sigh. “We’ll be back soon! Brownie, you take care of her!” The bear cub let out a tiny growl as it rolled onto its side.

Pontius tapped Rarity on the back with a hoof. “My Lady, we’d best be going before th’ sun starts to set.”

With a sigh, Rarity pulled herself out of the hug. The three friends shared one last smile before Fluttershy turned away and walked deeper into the camp, Brownie playfully pouncing on her tail as it bobbed above the ground.

There was nothing left to do now but leave, and with a few nods of confirmation the little group stepped past the boundaries of the camp and headed west. Pontius led the way, one hoof wrapped around a tall wooden pole with a fluttering white flag flying from the top. Rarity was next, alongside Whitehorn, who was wearing a clean grey vest over his shirt. Pinkie pronked along in the back of the group, the wheels of her chair and the trunk seeming to beat out a cheery rhythm behind her. Each of them had full saddlebags tied around their barrels; it would most likely be days at the very least before they returned.

There was a sparse layer of trees between the hill the siege camp was on and the open farmland that surrounded the city, and Rarity realized that her hooves were shaking as they stepped beyond their protection. Her eyes lingered on a patch of torn up dirt beside the road where a cannon shell must have landed, picking out the stains of red left behind among the dislodged cabbages. Eerily enough, she didn’t see any bodies.

Pontius came to a halt so suddenly that they nearly bumped into him. She turned her eyes forward to see a stern-faced unicorn mare standing in front of them, in the open next to a field of tall wheat. She was wearing a coat of light blue with a grey and white band on each of the sleeves. A collar with several small pouches wrapped around her neck, and she wore a rifle in a harness at her side. A shield-shaped crest was emblazoned on each of her uniform’s flanks, depicting a black wall framed by a pair of light blue blocks.

Pontius dipped into a low bow. “We’ve come t’ parley.”

“Parley?” The mare spoke loudly, as if for an audience. She smirked. “One volley from the Frieslanders and the Berries are already racing to surrender!”

“We are not here to surrender.” Rarity stepped forwards, ignoring the mare’s inciting tone. “We are here to prevent any more bloodshed than is necessary.”

“Anymore country blood, you mean?” She made an exaggerated motion of scanning the fields. “I don’t think any Friesland blood has stained the crops yet.”

“You’re being mean!” Pinkie said, her nostrils flaring. “You shouldn’t laugh at ponies dying!”

“Well baronlanders hardly qualify as ponies, so I think I’m fine on that count.”

Whitehorn let out an exasperated sigh. “Are you going to escort us to the gates or not?”

The mare’s tail flicked in annoyance behind her. She stomped a hoof, and a smaller soldier in similar gear, a pegasus stallion, stepped out from the field. “Who requests parley?” she asked.

Pontius straightened up. “Sir Whitehorn of Heighton, Lord Pontius of Canterthusia, his wife Countess Rarity, Last Lady of Equestria, and Mistress Pinkie Pie, her hoofmaiden.”

The mare rolled her eyes as she turned to the waiting stallion. “Run ahead and announce them. I’ll escort them in myself.” The stallion clicked his hooves together in salute before starting down the road at a gallop.

Rarity offered up a disarming smile as the mare turned back to them. “And how shall we refer to you, madame?”

“You can call me Lieutenant Rollkur, but I’d prefer if you didn’t speak at all.”

She started towards the city at a brisk trot, and with a brief exchange of looks Pontius led the little party after her. Their hooves beat a staggered rhythm on the smooth cobbles of the road, accompanied by the soft swishing of the fields and the whispering of the wind. They passed several simple farmhouses, though if the boarded up windows and the scattered tools and toys forgotten on the porches were any indication, they had been abandoned with the beginning of the siege.

Rarity’s eyes, however, were fixed on the city. A sheer stone wall surrounded it, just about twice the height of her old boutique by her guess, the silhouettes of massive cannons perched atop with their barrels looking out over the fields to the east like fat hawks watching for prey. The ramparts made it difficult to see, but she did pick up on a few flashes of motion here and there, suggesting the presence of soldiers ready to fire at short notice. As they came closer Rarity realized that there was in fact a second wall, perhaps half the height of the inner one but with a noticeable slope to it. It carved a zig-zag path around the city, and although she saw only a few troops patrolling the top, she counted dozens of smaller cannon barrels poking out from protected firing positions. She wasn’t a military mare by any standard, but even she could tell that any assault on the city would be a bloody and savage affair.

The large wooden gate nestled in the shadow of a pair of squat towers cracked open with a ponderous groan, and a cream coated unicorn mare swaggered out, her two-toned pink mane tied into a neat ponytail. She wore the same blue coat as the other soldiers, though she wore it open, leaving the carefully polished silver buttons on the lapel to swing freely, and had a white epaulette hanging over her right shoulder.

Lieutenant Rollkur motioned for the party to stop with a raised hoof. “So what’s the decision?”

“Governor Rhea accepts the offer of parley,” the unicorn said with a relaxed grin. Her voice was firm but soft, a far cry from Rollkur’s irritated growl. “Do excuse my sister for the delightful entertainment I’m sure she’s supplied in the brief time you’ve known her. My name is Captain Piaffe, and I’ll be taking you from here.”

Rollkur sighed. “Really? Whatever.” She turned to trot back the way they had come, turning to shout over her shoulder. “Try not to trip on your coat, Piaffe. I’ve got more Berries to kill.”

Rarity looked after her with a shake of her head. “Such a rude mare.”

“And why did she keep calling us berries?” Pinkie asked. “Am I the only one who kinda got the feeling she meant it as an insult?”

“It’s a pejorative some of the Frieslanders use for the country ponies,” Whitehorn explained. “Berry, derived from the name of the last Altalusian king, Berry Brawl.”

“Oh! Wait, but what kind of berry was he?”

Captain Piaffe cleared her throat, drawing their attention. “If you’ll follow me, friends? And you can leave the flag here.”

Although the road itself was wide enough for two wagons to pass abreast, the gap in the door was just wide enough for them to walk through single file, and Rarity soon found herself in the streets of Friesland proper. Skinny stone buildings with flat roofs were squashed side-by-side into neat rows, their roofs blooming with plant life and the signs hanging over their doors decorated with brightly painted designs. A pair of ponies wearing the same blue coats as Lieutenant Rollkur fell in on either side of the party, though Rarity noticed that the crest on their flanks was different, depicting only a white star on a blue shield.

Rarity raised her head high as they were led through the city, drawing the curious eyes of passing civilians. Most of them were going about their business as Rarity imagined they usually would, with shopkeepers shouting their best deals from the steps of their storefronts and stout work ponies tugging wagons laden with supplies behind them. She pursed her lips, repressing the urge to flick her tail in anger. Didn’t these ponies realize that there was an army camped just a short walk outside their walls? All the effort she was going through to stop the war, and yet still they chatted and laughed over drinks in their open air cafes.

But there were yet signs of the war visible among the peace. She saw a stallion leaving his home with a blue coat slung over his shoulders before making towards the middle of the city, a wet redness around his eyes. A colt stood on a wooden box at one street corner, his high voice ringing out over the crowd as ponies came up to buy papers from an older stallion beside him.

“War with the barons!” he cried. “Fool Titus blames the quakes on Duchess Nettlekiss and demands blood!”

Rarity snorted. “It is her fault.”

Whitehorn leaned towards her, his voice low. “Well, that’s unlikely to sell any sheets here, is it, Countess?”

“It’s not about what sells,” Rarity said. “It’s about what’s true.”

“As a journalist, I can assure you that you have that backwards,” Whitehorn said. “A city broadsheet’s only concern is finding the most sensational headline they can. That, or to push their angle.”

Captain Piaffe came to a stop in front of a stone two-story house perhaps half again wider than its neighbors. She climbed the steps and slipped a key into the door, grunting as she jimmied the lock open, before pushing it open with a flourish. “And here we are. My home is open to you.”

Rarity frowned, turning to her friends and seeing her own confusion reflected in their eyes. “Are we not going to see Governor Rhea?”

“Laden down with all your bags?” Piaffe chuckled and shook her head. “You’re a gorgeous mare, love, but I think even you should slip those saddlebags off before you go speaking to governors.”

Rarity couldn’t help but smile at the unexpected compliment, looking away with a flustered titter. “Oh, well, I suppose we should freshen up a bit first.”

Piaffe winked at her before stepping inside, and Rarity reached a hoof up to adjust her mane before following, ducking her head so as not to catch her hat on the door frame. The building was surprisingly spacious on the inside, with a combination kitchen and sitting area taking up the entire first floor. Colorful sitting cushions were arranged around a low metal table atop a thick rug, flanked on one side by a quietly crackling hearth. A wooden display case and tin bookshelf were squeezed into the narrow wall space under the stairs along the far wall, displaying a collection of military medals and books. Piaffe stepped over to the nearest window and pulled the curtains open, allowing sunlight to stream in from the street, where the two soldiers escorting them had posted up next to the door.

“A very charming residence,” Rarity said, stepping aside to make room for Pinkie and Whitehorn to enter behind her. “I suppose there are rooms for the four of us upstairs?”

“There are two, yes, though I’ll have to prepare my bedroom before you can use it, dearheart.” Piaffe winked again as she sat down in front of the fireplace, throwing a few logs in before stirring it with a poker.

Rarity blinked, a faint blush coming to her face. Pontius stepped in front of her with a stern frown. “What do ye mean to imply, lass?”

Piaffe turned to him, looking him over with a small smirk. “Nothing at all. I’m merely letting you know that I’ll have to get my things out of my room before you can use it.”

Recovering from her brief shock, Rarity laid a calming hoof on Pontius’ shoulder. “Certainly we couldn’t take your own bed from you, darling. I’m sure we could find accommodations elsewhere.”

“It’s no trouble at all, really. Tradition says that when dignitaries enter the city through my gate, I house them. That’s how it works.” Piaffe straightened up with a stretch before walking towards the kitchen area. “I know it’s probably a little smaller than you might be used to, but that’s what you get for arriving on hoof and from the east. If you wanted a guest suite then you should’ve arrived by airship. The harbormaster’s home is much more lavish. Would you like some drinks? I hope you don’t mind imported spirits.”

“Oh, oh, I want some!” Pinkie exclaimed. “Have you got anything fizzy?”

“I’m afraid we’d rather not wait any longer than necessary,” Rarity said, shooting a meaningful look Pinkie’s way. The other mare blew a loud raspberry in her direction, but relented. Rarity turned back to Captain Piaffe, who was pouring a dark, bubbly liquid into two glasses. “Please, where is Governor Rhea? We’d much desire to speak with her.”

“The Governor’s a busy mare, love. You’re on her schedule, I can assure you, but I’d be stunned if you were able to see her anytime today or tomorrow. Best to settle in for now. Are you sure you don’t want a glass?” Piaffe swished the bottle around enticingly. “A friend in customs got this for me.”

“No, thank you.” Rarity set her lips into a firm line, straightening up. “I am Countess Rarity of Cantherthusia, Last Lady of Equestria, and I demand an audience with the Governor this instant! There are ponies dying outside that wall and every moment we waste is—”

Whitehorn stepped in front of her, his voice low and urgent. “My Lady, we are not in any position to be making demands.”

Rarity frowned fiercely down at him, hissing, “To the contrary, darling, we’re not in any position to be wasting time!”

“I understand you’re upset, but we won’t save any lives by being kicked out before we even drop our saddlebags,” he whispered back. “We must tread lightly while we’re here, and we should accept the hospitality we’ve been granted.”

“Woohoo!” Pinkie let out a whoop as she kicked the trunk and her saddlebags into a corner, zipping over to grab Piaffe’s offered glass in her muzzle and chug it down in a few seconds. She spat the empty glass back onto the counter, where it bounced once before landing perfectly on its bottom. “Wow, that is good!”

Rarity’s nostrils flared as she clenched her jaw. She saw Pontius and Whitehorn both exchanging nervous glances as if wondering whether she was going to stand down or escalate the situation. With a sigh, she gave a small nod of her head. “You’re right.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Countess.” Whitehorn turned to where Piaffe was pouring Pinkie Pie a second glass, raising his voice to his usual clear speaking volume. “We appreciate your hospitality, Captain. It’s been a stressful time for us of late, and I think we’d all quite like to get these saddlebags off our backs and settle in. Could you show us to the available room?”

Piaffe grinned at him. “I’d like nothing more. Come with me, and you can all get some rest. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll show you around town.”

Polishing off the last of her drink, Captain Piaffe weaved her way through the group and up the stairs, her neatly tied tail bouncing behind her with every step.

Rarity waited for the others to follow before ascending them. She didn’t want anyone to see the ugly glower on her face.

From high up in the sky, the soldiers in the field looked almost like carefully trained ants, dancing back and forth in a choreography only they understood. Anatami watched with detached interest as small groups of baronland soldiers warded off gangs of Friesland skirmishers, protecting the still growing siege camp while trying to stay out of range of the giant cannons on the walls. There was a great deal of back and forth, with the skirmishers unleashing volleys of musket fire before disappearing through wheat fields or concealed boltholes dug into the ground, and the baronlanders charging in with shouts of fury only to lose their nerve as they reached the torn up earth that marked previous cannon shots.

Gava swung close to her, brushing their wingtips together to get her attention. “Follow me.”

She angled her wings, falling into a gentle descent. Ana drifted a little to one side so as to take advantage of her larger sister’s slipstream before following.

It was about sunset now, and the airships loitering in Friesland’s ports were little more than shaded silhouettes in front of the brilliant red and orange hues of the horizon. The city was clearly designed to be a fortress; from above Ana could see two supporting sets of walls, plus reinforced strongpoints spaced evenly among the civilian buildings. One of the great cannons spat fire as they descended, the thunderous shockwave tingling at her sensitive wingtips even from as far as she was, and a baron unit rushed to scatter before impact.

The city grew steadily larger beneath them as they bled altitude, its blue-coated soldiers patrolling the walls with hawkish glares that never turned more than a few degrees skyward. As they dipped below a hundred meters, they angled into a steep dive, shooting into a shadowed alleyway before pulling up and landing.

“And that’s how you run a siege,” Gava said.

“I’m so very proud of you,” Ana said with a roll of her eyes. “Somehow you’ve managed to fly over ponies that never look up.”

Gava gave her a playful shove before starting down the alley. “C’mon, sis. Our room’s not far from here.”

Ana sped up into a trot to catch up before slowing to a walk. “Did the innkeeper give you any trouble?”

Gava shook her head. “He was one of the no-question types.” They came out into the street, and she shot a brief glance to the left before leading them in the other direction.

They had landed in one of the seedier parts of town. Ponies walked with purpose and kept their eyes to themselves here, and the bluecoats moved in groups of three and four instead of lingering alone on street corners. Nobody batted an eye at the sight of a griffon and a thestral prowling through the city; they knew that questions weren’t worth the trouble they brought.

The inn in question was almost indistinguishable from its neighbors; the sign had fallen off its post, leaving just a wooden stick jutting out with a pair of iron rings embedded underneath. Then a drunk patron stumbled out the door, bringing with him the stench of cheap booze and vomit.

“Classy place,” Ana said.

“You don’t belong in classy places,” Gava shot back, shoving the door open with a shoulder.

“What, and you do?”

Rather than answer, Gava swatted Ana’s muzzle with the plume of her tail.

The bar was mostly empty, with just a few ponies seated in somber silence at one table. The stallion at the bar, in time-honored tradition, idly polished a dirty glass while a disheveled bluecoat mare stared down into a mug across from him.

“Wasn’t supposed to be a war,” the mare was mumbling. “I was supposed to get an easy job on the wall.”

The innkeeper grunted, his eyes tracking the two new arrivals as he spoke. “S’how it is sometimes.”

Gava nodded in greeting, tossing a small pouch onto the bar as they made for the stairs. It landed with a quiet jingle. “Give me another week.” The innkeeper scooped the bag up without a word.

The stairs creaked underhoof, and the door to their room wobbled threateningly on its hinges. The room’s window was boarded over from the outside, allowing only a few slivers of the last light of day to leak through, and the one mattress’ straw stuffing was clearly visible through its patchy fabric.

Ana stepped ahead, lighting a gas lamp waiting on the bedside end table. “And you’re paying for this?”

Gava shrugged. “I wasn’t sleeping in it very often, and it’s cheap. I mostly got it to store this.” She walked to the far corner, pulling a pile of blankets aside to reveal an iron-bound wooden chest.

Ana gasped. “You found Dad!”

Gava nodded. “Didn’t think I’d leave him lying around in the wreck of his own ship, did you?”

Both sisters sat side-by-side in front of the chest, and Ana gingerly reached a hoof out. It opened with a soft click, revealing the skull of her long-dead father. She picked it up in both hooves and held it close to her chest. “Any other survivors?”

Gava shrugged again, shuffling her wings as she stepped away. “Just bodies.”

Ana glanced to the side. In the corner of her eye she could see Gava looking at a rotten patch of wall, her talons clicking against the floor, deep in thought. Ana seized her opportunity and reached back into the chest, silently flipping up the corner of the soft padding within. She breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the soft, midnight blue fabric hidden underneath. Rarity’s dress was safe.

She jumped, tucking the dress away once more, as Gava spoke up. “You remember what Dad used to say about motivated idealists?”

Ana turned to face her sister fully, the skull cradled in her lap. “He said to stay away from them. The world changes too fast when they’re around, and people like us only get ground up in it.”

“Yeah.” Gava nodded. “But now it looks like we’re working for one, one with a lot of connections, and not even a day after he gives us our first job the island’s at war.” A moment passed in silence. “It just makes me think, is all. We’ve lost a lot already.”

“Wow, is that caution I’m hearing?” Ana grinned, but the expression faded when she saw the terse look on her sister’s face. She carefully placed her father’s skull back in its chest before coming up to Gava’s side, wrapping a wing around her bulk. “Hey, look, we’re all together now, right? Me, you, Dad—we’ve been through worse. If it really comes down to it then we can bail, but right now we need the bits. And from what I’ve seen of Whitehorn so far, well—” she grimaced, looking away “—pulling out on him might make it hard to find work in the future.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Gava sighed and shook her head. “Listen to me. One bad hunt and I’m talking like a fledgling too scared to leave the nest.”

“That doesn’t mean you should forget everything you’ve learned and go charging at superpony Gifted, by the way,” Ana teased. She grinned as she hopped onto the bed, wincing at the way the coarse fabric rubbed against her coat. “Hot fucks, are you sure this is a bed? Is it too late to go find a nice bush to sleep in?”

“Make some room, bat. I paid good bits for this room.” Gava yawned as she slid into place beside Ana, almost shoving her off the other side of the little bed.

Ana sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “Been a long time since we shared a bed.”

“Not since we were young.”

“Yeah.”

A tired silence settled into place over the duo. After a few minutes Ana rolled over onto her side, and Gava draped one of her massive wings over her like a blanket.

A small, content smile tugged at Ana’s lips as she closed her eyes. She’d never said as much, but she missed the warmth of a shared bed.

“Night, sis.”

“Night, Ana.”

Author's Notes:

You rush out of the trees alongside your comrades, charging for the gunsmoke left behind by the fleeing skirmishers with a furious roar. There's a rumble of thunder in the distance, and you have just enough time to see the craters around you before your world turns white. If you're lucky, perhaps someone will remember you.

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IX: Of Diplomacy

Rarity leaned in close to the mirror hanging on the wall, her horn tinkling softly, and tugged at her eyelashes with precise, measured motions. She paused to dip the applicator wand back into the tube before turning her attention to her other eye, an aimless hum drifting from her lips as she—

A resounding boom rocked the room, causing the mirror, the dresser, the bed and everything else not nailed down to rattle in sympathy. The little wand jerked at her eyelashes as she jumped in alarm, and she let out a frustrated scream as her eye watered in pain. She blinked furiously, reaching a hoof out to steady the mirror before it fell off the wall again and developed another crack.

After a couple seconds, the room fell still once more. Rarity closed her eyes, her tail lashing side to side, and took a deep breath.

Accursed Frieslanders and their giant cannons. It wasn’t the first time she had experienced the aftershock of their firing; it wasn’t even the first time that day. It had been two days since her arrival in the city, and every day the cannons’ reports would thunder across the city with increasing frequency. Each time she would stiffen, her pulse quickening at the unexpected shockwave that rocked the city, and then wonder how many ponies had just died, and whether she could have done something different to save them. It made her want to scream.

Oh, just one couldn’t hurt. She turned to the bed and stuffed her face into the pillows, stomping her hooves against the thin rug on the floor and letting out a frustrated shriek.

She came up for air perhaps half a minute later, sucking in a deep breath and feeling much better. She jumped at a knock at the door, followed by Whitehorn’s muffled voice.

“Are you ready, Countess? We’re expected in a half hour.”

“Just a minute, darling!” she called. “I’ll be right out!”

She turned back to the mirror, adjusting its place on the wall with a touch of magic. She was dressed to impress in a pale blue couture, accented with white lace and a shawl of embroidered royal purple that hung almost to her knees. She had forgone a hat, opting instead to let her mane hang free in an intricate braid that hung down one side of her neck, and wore a matching set of purple shoes she had picked up at a local cobbler. The mascara wand dipped in and out, applying the finishing touches to her makeup. She would only have one chance to give Governor Rhea a good first impression, and the ponies outside the walls couldn’t afford any mistakes on her part.

Finally satisfied with her appearance, Rarity strutted out of the little room and squeezed into the equally small hallway outside. Her brow furrowed with consternation as she tugged her dress in to keep it from scraping up against the stone walls. Captain Piaffe’s home, quaint thought it was, was far too small to host the entire diplomatic party in comfort, and she was beginning to wonder if the selection was intentional. Had they been housed there truly out of respect to tradition, or was it a subtle message from the Governor? We don’t want you here.

Either way, it would take more than sharing a single-sized bed with Pinkie Pie to deter her from her quest.

The fire in the hearth crackled merrily as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Whitehorn and Pinkie were seated around the table, the former smartly dressed in an orange vest and white shirt with rolled up sleeves and the latter wearing a polka-dotted blue and yellow bowtie. Pontius was seated in front of the wooden display case with a glass of dark liquid cradled in one hoof. All three of them were listening with varied levels of interest as Piaffe gestured towards the contents.

“Here we have my grandpapa Capriole’s commission, bought with the funds from selling his shop. And here, this medal here—” she pointed to a badge with the image of a tower engraved into the blue-tinted surface “—was given to him after he caught a group of baron spies in the midst of opening the eastern gatehouse. He told my sister and I the story many times. It was a dark night, and a fierce rainstorm had just passed up the coast, so—”

Rarity cleared her throat, drawing the room’s attention. She offered up a prim smile. “I do believe we should be leaving, dears.”

Piaffe looked up at her with wide eyes, her mouth twisting into a coy grin. She turned to nudge at Pontius with one of her hind legs. “Such a lucky stallion you are! I don’t know how you manage to sleep at nights without her in your bed.”

Pontius blanched, his glass slamming down onto the table as he choked. Pinkie Pie snickered into her hoof while Rarity turned to frown sharply at Piaffe.

“That is absolutely none of your business!” she snapped.

“You’ll have to excuse me, dearheart.” Piaffe dipped her head, the grin staying on her face as she spoke. “I’ve been known to forget myself around beautiful mares.”

“Well, you would do well to learn to remember yourself!” Rarity stalked towards the front door with an indignant “hmph!” before opening it with her magic. “I will be waiting outside!”

She didn’t have to wait long before Pinkie bounced out to join her, followed shortly by Whitehorn and Pontius. His nostrils flared as he glowered back at Captain Piaffe, who took one last sip from a small flask in her hooves before slipping it into her coat and striding briskly down the street.

“Come along then, all,” she called back at them. “It’s a short walk, but a pleasant one!”

They followed in their usual order, with the two bluecoats that had been stationed outside the house falling in behind them. Rarity came up to Pontius’ side, keeping her voice low so Piaffe wouldn’t overhear. “Are you well, darling?”

“I don’t like her,” he said, glaring at the back of Piaffe’s head. “She keeps botherin’ me, askin’ why ye don’t sleep with me.”

“O-oh.” Rarity looked away, watching the passing scenery. They passed under the arch of an old stone gatehouse, its doors forever open. The wall it had once guarded was long gone now, its stones having been pilfered to serve the needs of the ever-expanding city. “You shouldn’t pay her any heed.”

“How can I not?” Pontius hissed. “She keeps makin’ eyes at ye, and yer supposed to be my wife!”

“Pontius, dear, you don’t need to be jealous on my part.” Rarity offered him a small smile. It was somewhat endearing to see him being protective of her in this way, but it was best she nip it in the bud. “Our arrangement is purely political.”

He took a deep breath, his lips set into a thin frown. After a few seconds he dipped his head into a terse nod. “Aye. Political.”

Rarity couldn’t help but grimace at the clear signs of distress. She had no fantasies of any romance with Pontius, but she didn’t like seeing him so disturbed.

The party came out into a wide, circular courtyard, with ponies milling in every direction as they crossed from one street to another. A towering old cathedral dominated one side, the silver crescent moons on each face of its bell towers announcing its allegiance to Princess Luna. Cafes and restaurants lined the plaza, crisp new brick buildings standing side-by-side squat old stone, each competing with its neighbors for passing hoof traffic. The middle of the courtyard was occupied by a haphazard array of colorful stalls, each merchant shouting to be heard over the others while young colts and fillies attempted to drag passing ponies towards the wares of their employers. Piaffe paused, glancing around the courtyard before cutting a path along one edge.

An old, square stone tower sat on the corner of one of the wide avenues that led into the plaza, contrasting sharply with the restaurant next to it. A squad of bluecoats filed out of the tower as they approached, dipping their heads in greeting to Piaffe before picking up into a trot, and she offered them a warm smile in return.

The governor’s palace waited at the end of the avenue, guarded by a tall metal fence and a thick wall of topiary. A pair of soldiers stood watch by the open gate, their hooves clicking together in salute as Captain Piaffe approached.

“Oh, you know you don’t have to do that for me, colts,” she said. She nodded towards Rarity’s party. “Diplomats here for the governor, unless she’s changed her mind?”

“No, ma’am.” One of the guards shook his head, keeping his eyes forward.

“Exquisite. Come along then, dearhearts!”

The palace was brick, and smaller than Titus’ manse. A gently curving paved path wound between the bushes and the trees, which were beginning to lose their leaves in the chill of autumn. A few steps led up to a small circular landing shaded by a balcony on the second floor, and Piaffe ascended the stairs with a cheery hum before raising a hoof and knocking on the polished wooden door.

The door swung open, revealing a stone-faced pegasus stallion wearing a simple shirt and vest. He bowed low, stepping aside to beckon them in, and Piaffe beckoned with a flick of her tail before leading the party inside.

Rarity let out a soft gasp as she crossed over the threshold, a hoof rising to her chest. The interior was decorated in pleasing shades of cool blue and white, with a marble fountain surrounded by a bed of vibrant flowers serving as the circular foyer’s centerpiece. A circle of evenly spaced columns lined the room, wrapped in the tight embrace of vines that displayed both blooming flowers and threatening thorns. An earth mare was stooped down over the flower bed as they entered, a spade held in her muzzle and her hooves protected by thick canvas boots, and Rarity watched as she gently placed a young sapling into place before pushing the soil in around it with her hooves.

“Sweet Celestia,” she said, taking it all in with wide eyes. “How marvelous!”

Piaffe glanced back at her with an amused smirk. “Impressed, love? I imagine you don’t see anything like this out in the baronlands.”

Pontius snorted. “We have no need fer such wasteful follies in the baronlands.”

Pinkie bounced inside with an excited squeal, her wheels clattering loudly behind her. “This place looks amazing! Rarity, isn’t your birthday coming up? Imagine a party in here! Oh oh, we could fill the fountain with chocolate!”

Piaffe’s smirk turned into a warm smile. “Do you know, Pinkie, I think you’re my favorite one of this bunch. What would you say to some drinks out on the town later tonight?”

“Duh! I would say yes oh my gosh that sounds like so much fun you’ve got to show me all your favorite places!”

“Fillies, please.” Whitehorn gestured onwards with a hoof. “Let’s not get too distracted.”

“The Governor certainly has an eye for beauty,” Rarity said as Piaffe led them down a hall divided by a long, narrow bed of flowers. And if we’re lucky, perhaps she’ll have an appreciation for diplomacy as well.

The hall ended in tall, arched double doors decorated with carvings of blossoming vines, their flowers painted with vibrant yellows and pinks. One door hung ajar, and Piaffe pushed it open further, beckoning inside with an exaggerated flourish.

Pontius led the way as they each filed over the threshold and into an open room decorated with a variety of potted plants, paintings, and large cushions. A wide, circular table rested in the middle, bearing platters of cookies, clear bottles of wine, and glasses to drink from. Colorful sunlight streamed in through tall stained-glass windows, providing clear sight of the garden outside and silhouetting the three ponies that were waiting within.

Piaffe had informed them as to proper etiquette the day before. Rarity and Pontius stood side-by-side in the center of the room, their eyes lowered in respect. Pinkie bounced to a stop behind them, bowing low to the ground with a quiet giggle.

Whitehorn cleared his throat as he stepped ahead. “Presenting Sir Pontius, heir to the Duchy of Canterthusia, and his wife, Countess Rarity, Last Lady of Equestria.” He bowed as he stepped back to join Pinkie at the back of the group, and Rarity and Pontius both looked up to meet the judging gaze of the earth mare sitting in the middle of the waiting trio.

“Welcome to my home, Sir Pontius and Countess Rarity. I am Governor Rhea.” Her voice was quiet, but carried a firmness that indicated an old familiarity with authority. She wore a simple yellow dress decorated with a sash of pastel flowers that matched nicely with her soft yellow coat and curling pink mane, and she held a glass of white wine in one hoof. With her free hoof she gestured first to the heavyset, suited unicorn stallion on her right and then to the older pegasus mare on her left. “This is Mister Robber Baron, speaker for the trade guilds of Friesland, and Lady Hemlock, speaker for my cousin, Duchess Nettlekiss.” She paused to extend the wine glass towards the table before her, causing the liquid inside to swirl about and catch the light. “Pour them some drinks, Captain.”

“Yes, Governor.” Captain Piaffe snapped off a salute so crisp and respectful that Rarity did a brief double take, momentarily wondering if some other mare had replaced her. Piaffe wasted no time in fetching a pair of glasses and filling them with sweet smelling white wine.

“For their aides as well,” Governor Rhea said, turning to regard Whitehorn and Pinkie Pie in turn. “What are your names?”

“I’m Pinkie Pie, her hoofmaiden! Heehee!”

“Whitehorn of Heighton, at your service, Governor.”

Two more glasses were poured. Piaffe stepped away to a respectful distance while Rarity and the rest of her party took seats around the table. She levitated the glass to her lips and took a polite sip, a hum of contentment escaping her as the pungent flavor pooled on her tongue.

“Tell me, how is it?” Rhea asked, her eyes lingering on Rarity’s glowing horn. “And do be honest. My vintner cannot improve without feedback.”

Rarity set the glass down with a small smile. “It’s divine, madame. You should be quite proud.” She glanced towards Pontius only to see that he had forgone tasting his wine in favor of glowering at the governor with poorly concealed disdain.

“I’m told that you come bringing an offer of peace from the barons,” Rhea said, setting her own glass down, “though I doubt that they would honor any such agreement, judging by who they’ve sent.”

Rarity’s smile dipped down into a frown. “I can assure you, madame, we have every intent of bringing this conflict to an amicable end with a minimum of bloodshed.”

As if to punctuate her words, the rumbling report of one of the Frieslanders firing shook the room. The wine glasses threatened to topple over, their contents spilling over their rims and onto the wooden table, while Rhea arched a brow.

“You would have me believe that the barons honestly want peace? Then why have they sent a foal and a traveler to speak with me?”

Pontius narrowed his eyes. “You would do well to address me as befits my position, mare.”

Rarity’s lips stretched into a diplomatic smile as she flicked her tail over to touch at Pontius’ as a gentle reminder. “I believe you’re mistaken, madame. I’m no traveler, and my husband is well-respected by the ponies of his land as their lord. We assure you that the barons will honor any agreement that we come to today.”

The be-tied unicorn, Robber Baron, snorted with bemusement. “Not a traveler? I’ve heard plenty of stories that would indicate otherwise! Shows up in Heighton as part of some show put on by Crazy Rich, and then drifts to Fellis to do charity work, and wed only weeks after your arrival on Altalusia. No doubt you imagine you’ve done quite well by yourself, Last Lady. That is what they call you, no?”

“Ah.” Rarity’s smile remained firmly in place despite the implications, reinforced with years of practice against surly customers. “So you’ve heard of me?”

“Certainly I’ve heard of you!” Robber Baron said. “The refugees from Fellis are so busy singing your praises that I sometimes wonder if they think they’re being paid to gossip!”

Rhea raised her free hoof, and the stallion fell silent with a brief dip of his head. “If the barons are willing to talk peace, then I will talk peace. What are your terms, Countess?”

Rarity’s smile grew wider as relief surged inside her. Finally, a pony willing to see reason! “Nothing too difficult, I’d hope. An end to the hostilities, and return to status quo.”

“Status quo,” Lady Hemlock mused. “So Duke Titus is willing t’ return the lands he took from my liege lady?”

Rarity shot a glance towards Pontius, who had turned his glower on the aged pegasus mare. She spoke carefully and intently, ensuring he was paying attention to her words. “I’m sure Duke Titus would agree to return any land occupied during the past few days.”

Pontius gave a brief nod of his head. “Aye, it would be agreeable, as long as Duchess Nettlekiss is brought to justice fer her crimes.”

Lady Hemlock’s lips drew up into a thin smile. “I’m not speaking only of th’ land taken by his army on its march t’ Castle Urtica, lad. Yer father would return what fiefs he stole two years prior as well if he desires peace.”

Pontius shot up out of his seat. “That land is rightfully ours, and yer kind will not step hoof on it while House Pike draws breath!”

“Mm, as I thought.” Lady Hemlock let out a dramatic sigh as she sipped from her glass. “They have no real intent of peace, Governor. This is a waste of time.”

“Now, now, let’s not be hasty, darlings.” Rarity tugged Pontius back down to the ground with a magical tug on his outfit, straining to maintain her facade of a smile after the outburst. She thought back to her brief discussion with Countess Silkie in the siege camp. “There is much to discuss if we’re to come to an agreement that leads to a lasting peace on the island, but for now surely we can all agree that there’s no need for bloodshed? We can all meet together once we’ve set our weapons aside and come to some accordance that’s mutually beneficial to all.”

A few seconds passed while Governor Rhea raised her glass to her lips. Slowly she turned to Robber Baron. “Tell me, Mister Baron, how does the price of grains from Nimbusea compare to local imports?”

“Oh, by the bushel? Nearly half again as expensive, in fact. But we’ve already sent a delegation of our best ponies to negotiate a bulk price, and if discussion with the Merchant’s Guild is any indication they’d actually be willing to cut a dozen or more cents from the rate once they see the sudden excess of demand in—”

Governor Rhea cut him off with a hoof, turning to Lady Hemlock. “How long does the Duchess expect the walls of Castle Urtica could withstand a siege?”

The pegasus snorted. “With th’ soldiers and cannon ye’ve sent, we could hold th’ walls until we died of old age! Titus will have t’ pay a heavy toll in blood if he wishes t’ take th’ stronghold.”

Governor Rhea nodded before turning to look past Rarity, to where Captain Piaffe was standing. “Captain, have the skirmishers reported any casualties since the beginning of the conflict?”

“Only a single fatality as of yet, Governor.”

Rarity’s heart sank as Rhea turned to look her in the eye. “Then let us get to the heart of this matter. Do you have anything to offer aside from words? Anything of worth? Either of you?”

Rarity pursed her lips, her jaw clenching at the bored dismissal in Rhea’s voice. “I would think that peace is worth a great deal.”

“Peace is worth only as much as war costs, Countess, and this war costs very little.” The governor turned to look at Piaffe once more. “Captain, I’d like you to take the diplomats to see the Frieslanders in action tomorrow. I believe she could use a more refined perspective on this conflict.”

“As you command, Governor.”

“Good.” Rhea sighed, looking to Rarity once more. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Countess. You are perhaps the most refined and courteous pony to ever speak with the voice of the baronlands, but fortunately I am not young enough to be moved by notions as empty as refinement or courtesy. If you have something real to offer, then you may ask Captain Piaffe to request another meeting. Until then, you are free to lodge with her for as long as you wish, or to arrange an escort outside the city. I’m sure you would feel more comfortable in your own bed.”

Rhea stood, turning away and stepping to look through the nearest window before Rarity could muster any response. Her muzzle flapped uselessly as she searched for some way to get past the dismissal, but what could she do? She didn’t have anything real to offer, and everyone in the room knew it. She looked back to Whitehorn and Pinkie, hoping in vain for one of them to point out some avenue she had missed, but the former only offered an apologetic grimace, and even Pinkie could only shrug.

Lady Hemlock cleared her throat, drawing Rarity’s attention. The older mare regarded her with open contempt. “Captain Piaffe, please help them find the door.”

Piaffe’s hooves clicked in salute. “If you’ll come with me, dearhearts?”

Rarity’s whole body felt numb as she rose from her plush cushion. She dipped into a prim curtsey almost without thinking, mumbling out a distracted “Thank you for your time” before turning to follow Whitehorn out into the halls.

She didn’t understand. Why didn’t anybody in this wretched future seem to have any interest in peace? Didn’t they care for the ponies getting their limbs blown off by cannon fire and their guts gored by shot? Her mind wandered in circles as Piaffe led them towards the exit. Perhaps Governor Rhea had never seen the inside of a tent filled with wounded, and that was why she didn’t flinch at the distant rumble of gunpowder? Yes, that must be it. She could go back, convince the governor to accompany her to the siege camp and really see all the harm that was being done, and then surely she would agree to a cease fire at the very least.

She had seemed so regal during the meeting. Surely she wasn’t completely heartless?

She blinked, looking up, and realized that they had reached the sun-swathed cobbles of the street. There wasn’t any time to waste. The governor would no doubt still be in her parlor, and if she was quick—

Whitehorn laid a hoof on her shoulder. Rarity jumped, turning to meet his gaze. He gave a small shake of his head. “We have nothing she wants, Countess. She was never going to agree to anything but a baron surrender.”

“But—she must not understand.” Rarity licked her lips, looking back at the two guards standing to either side of the gate to the gardens. “If I could just make her understand then—”

“Rarity.” She flinched at the firmness in his voice. She had never heard anything like it from him before. “She isn’t like us. None of the ponies driving this conflict are like us. This is why we need the Gifted Table, you see? There must be an authority of harmony to prevent senseless violence like this.”

“But that doesn’t help us now.” Piaffe led them into the plaza, and Rarity’s jaw clenched as she looked out over the ponies that milled across it, oblivious to all the carnage just a short walk away. “We can’t just let this continue. There must be another way!”

Whitehorn shot a quick glance towards Pinkie, who had been plodding along beside them with her head down. “Pinkie, didn’t Piaffe offer to take you out for drinks tonight?”

Pinkie looked up, but her frown remained fix in place. “Y-yeah? But I had kinda been thinking they’d be like celebrate-y drinks, and now we don’t have anything to celebrate…”

“Perhaps they could be consoling drinks instead?” Whitehorn nodded towards Piaffe. “You should ask.”

“I-I dunno. I don’t really feel like any kind of drinks right now.”

Whitehorn leaned in, lowering his voice so that Rarity had to step closer to make out what he was saying. “I have an idea, Pinkie, but we need the Captain to be distracted. Can you do that for us?”

Pinkie’s ears perked up. She looked to Rarity, head cocked with curiosity, and Rarity gave her an encouraging nod and a little smile.

“Well, in that case!” Pinkie’s mane popped back to full poofiness with a spray of confetti, and she pronked up to Piaffe’s side with an eager grin on her face. “Hey, Capitán! Didn’t you mention getting some drinks tonight?”

Piaffe jumped in alarm as Pinkie blew a multi-hued party horn in her ear, turning to look at the mare with wide eyes, but Rarity didn’t bother paying any attention to what she said. She instead turned to Whitehorn with a questioning gaze. Pontius drew close as well, leaning in on Whitehorn’s opposite side.

“Governor Rhea holds the singular authority to declare war or peace,” he explained, his voice low. “But she won’t agree to any peace until she’s convinced that the war won’t go in her favor. The only way that’ll happen is if she begins taking significant losses and loses her strategic position.”

Pontius nodded. “Aye. My father’s taken our forces north to besiege Castle Urtica. Once Nettlekiss loses her last stronghold, we’ll be able to concentrate every soldier in th’ baronlands on Friesland. I expect th’ governor would be more open to negotiation then.”

“That is not acceptable!” Rarity hissed back. They turned down a street, leaving the plaza behind as Pinkie chattered loudly in Piaffe’s ear. “We came here to stop the fighting before it happens, not after!”

Pontius grimaced. “With all due respect, my Lady, th’ fighting’s already started.”

Whitehorn nodded. “It’s up to the governor, and she won’t budge while her position remains secure.”

Rarity pursed her lips, tuning out the sound of a trio of giggling fillies running past them and turning his words over in her head. It’s up to the governor. She blinked, her eyes widening. “Could we… replace her?”

Pontius cocked his head. “Ye mean like a coup? My Lady, we’re hardly a dozen ponies.”

“No, not a coup, you brute!” Rarity snapped. He flinched back, and she let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry, darling, really. But surely there’s some way to replace her? She’s elected, isn’t she?”

Whitehorn quirked his lips in thought. “I believe the city governor is elected by a council of local guildmasters, yes.”

“Yes, that!” Rarity pressed on, speaking quicker. “What is it you told me before, the pressure runs both ways? The governor herself might not be willing to listen to reason, but if we could get to the guildmasters—”

“We could inspire a vote of no confidence,” Whitehorn finished. He nodded along, giving her an impressed smile. “You know, my Lady, most ponies would take a firm denial from the local ruler as a sign to give up.”

Pontius snorted. “She isn’t most ponies.”

Rarity beamed as a shiver of excited relief passed through her. It isn’t over yet. We still have a chance!

In the distance, one of the Frieslanders fired. The city blocked their sight of the walls from here, but she could still see the plume of acrid smoke billowing up, marking the site of the cannon. The street came to a brief standstill as ponies paused to grab onto their foals or secure their belongings. Even the ever-hawking street sellers paused to reach out and steady their wares, their voices falling silent while they waited for the thunder to pass.

The shuddering of the cobbles underhoof caused Rarity to stumble with a yelp, but Pontius caught her with an extended wing. He looked down at her with concern, and she responded with a sheepish smile as she regained her balance. “Thank you, dear.”

He nodded. “I shall always be nearby to catch ye, my Lady.”

A lifetime ago, Rarity might have swooned to hear a young noble speak to her as such, but those times were long past. Still, she gave him a gracious smile as she brushed a few miniscule motes of dust from her dress. He straightened up, returning the expression.

“Almost took quite a fall there, love.” Captain Piaffe observed. She and Pinkie had stopped, looking back at her. “Would be a shame to break that pretty muzzle of yours open on Friesland stone!”

Rarity couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the mare’s tone as she stepped away from Pontius, who had fixed the mare with a steely glare. “Your concern is duly appreciated, Captain.”

“Not much further now, if you feel a desire to rest your legs,” Piaffe said, winking. “My mother sent over some of her delicious eggplant lasagna! I do hope you’ll dine with me.”

“And then we’re going out on the town!” Pinkie added, her wheels clattering against the ground as she bounced in place. She drew a few odd looks from passing ponies, but she either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Just two mares on a mission!”

Piaffe arched a brow, a curious grin on her face. “A mission?”

“A mission to have a night the city will never forget! Teehee!”

Whitehorn cleared his throat, speaking clearly. “Well, I’m afraid I’ll have to miss dinner tonight, if you don’t mind. I have a few old acquaintances I’d like to catch up with.”

“Acquaintances?” Piaffe asked, her ears perking up. She looked to Whitehorn, her soft green eyes suddenly sharper. “In Friesland?”

Whitehorn nodded with a disarming smile. “Indeed. I’m a journalist by trade, you see. I like to maintain connections with publications all across Equestria. So if you’ll excuse me.” He dipped his head in a series of short bows. “Countess, Captain, my Lord. I take my leave.”

“Oh. Certainly.” Rarity shot a brief smile towards Piaffe. “He really does have a fascinatingly large circle of friends. When can we expect you back, darling?”

“I won’t be gone too long, my Lady. Do save some lasagna for me.” With one last bow, Whitehorn turned back towards the plaza, walking away at a relaxed pace.

“Well, shall we get moving then, darlings?” Rarity made a show of tossing her mane as she strutted past Piaffe, drawing her attention away from Whitehorn’s back. “It’s this way, isn’t it? It’s been too long since I had some fine urban fare!”

“This is dumb.”

Ana looked back, towards where Gava was leaned against one of the stone corners of the bell tower, her talons clicking impatiently, and stuck her tongue out. “You’re dumb.”

Gava shot her a look. Ana waggled her tongue around. Gava sighed and looked away.

Ana smirked as she turned her attention back to the city beneath them. They were perched high up in the southwest bell tower of the old Lunar cathedral that dominated the city’s central plaza, and had been for an hour now. Whitehorn had instructed for them to follow and observe in the absence of any other orders, and it was an excellent position from which they could see most of the city center. Gava never had the patience for a good stakeout, but Ana had been watching with rapt attention as he followed Countess Rarity’s entourage into the governor’s palace. If the body language of the delegation after they finally left was any indication, then the diplomatic approach had been a complete failure. No surprise there.

The massive bell behind them was still ringing in sympathy with the latest shot from the Frieslanders, and it was approaching noon. They’d have to relocate soon if they wanted to avoid being deafened by the ringing, but for now Ana could still see the party weaving through the streets, so she stayed.

Her mind wandered, toying with passing thoughts even as her eyes soaked in every detail of the city below her. How would Princess Luna feel if she saw one of these great cathedrals that had been erected in her honor? Nobody knew what either Princess was like, no matter how firmly the priests of each denomination shouted to be heard over each other with their given truth.

At least, nobody from this time knows.

Rarity and Pinkie Pie claimed to be from the past, didn’t they? And their friends had found Princess Luna, somehow. Ana prided herself on practicing a healthy skepticism, but she was beginning to wonder if there was some truth to the strange Gifteds’ claims. Would the Princess be pleased to see ponies worshipping her in her absence? Would she be proud of what Equestrian society had become since the floods?

How would she feel about me?

Ana blinked the thought away as she saw Whitehorn parting from the delegation and turning back to the plaza. He walked at a casual pace, slowly weaving through the crowds. Once he reached the plaza he turned for the cathedral and picked up into a trot. She stiffened as he looked up, his eyes fixed on the very tower she was watching from.

Had he seen her? Ponies never looked up. It was a fact that Ana and her sister had exploited dozens of times in their lives, and yet this pony had shot a glance directly at her.

The bulk of the cathedral blocked her sight of him as he came closer, but she didn’t need to see to know that he had walked inside.

“Hey, sis.” She turned to Gava, who stirred from her nap with an arched brow. “I think he wants to talk. I’m gonna head down.”

Gava frowned. “What, you mean he saw us?”

Ana shrugged as she spread her wings. “Something like that. Make sure you’re not in the tower when this bell rings.”

She crouched down, ready to take flight, but Gava rushed up to her side. “Hey, whoa, I’m coming, too.”

Ana made a show of looking her up and down. “You?”

Gava clacked her beak. “What’s wrong with me?”

“You’re a big mean bird that stands a head taller than every pony in town.”

Gava narrowed her eyes.

“Point is, this guy’s trying to be subtle. And no offense, sis, but—” Ana reached a hoof out to prod at Gava’s dark blue plumage. “You’re not subtle.”

Gava snorted. “I can do subtle.”

Ana arched a brow.

“Bah, fine! I’ll be waiting on the roof. Don’t be too long.”

With a wink and a smile, Ana jumped out into the open air and let her wings catch her weight. There was plenty of open space around the cathedral, so Ana drifted down into a lazy circle and alighted in an alley a short walk away before pulling her hood up. She was wearing a simple cloak of indigo blue, the hem lined with warm wool. It was exactly the sort of outfit that a common Frieslander mare might wear on a nippy autumn day, and it did well to hide her leathery wings and slitted orange eyes.

As impressive as the cathedral had appeared from the outside, it took Ana’s breath away when she passed beneath the heavy stone arch of its entrance. Columns of sparkling aquamarine ran down both sides of the aisle, flanked by long pews of blue marble cushioned with thick pillows of midnight blue satin. There were no lights within the cathedral, but large circular windows of silvery stained glass watched from on high on each wall, the sunlight filtering through like rays of dim moonlight and illuminating statues of thestrals bowed low in subservience towards the altar at the back of the vaulted room. Above it all was a single mighty statue of Princess Luna herself, her great wings spread as if in warning to any who would dare threaten her ponies, her head raised high, regarding the ponies before her with an imperious facade. Her mane sparkled with embedded sapphire and swirling lines of silver gilding, matching the pitch black mural of the night sky that had been painted onto the ceiling.

Ana generally avoided Lunar cathedrals in the past. It had been years since she’d set hoof in one. Now, subjected to the full majesty of Princess Luna and her tapestry of stars, she was reminded of why. It was almost too tempting to join the statuesque stone thestrals in prostration before the Night Mistress.

She set her jaw and shook herself, turning her attention to the ponies inside. The dim light was no obstacle to her, and it only took her a moment to pick out the pale blue coat of Whitehorn sitting on one of the pews. He was looking back, watching her through the white frames of his eyeglasses, a cordial smile on his lips.

Idiot filly. She had walked in with a disguise, and then immediately lost herself gawking at the setting like a breathless pilgrim. She flicked her tail behind her as she lowered her eyes into the shadow of her cloak and closed the distance, sitting at his side.

“We meet face to face at last,” he said. “Well, for a certain definition of face to face. Is it your first time here?”

His voice was familiar. After a few seconds she placed it: this was the same stallion that had left the door of her jail cell open. “Did you want to talk?”

He didn’t answer at first. Ana kept her eyes forward, but she got the impression that he was sizing her up. “I did, yes. Tell me, how have you and your sister been faring?”

Ana’s brow furrowed. “We’re fine, even if you’ve tricked her into a messy contract.”

“Tricked her? She was free to refuse my offer if she wished, and my payment is more than fair.”

“You know what I mean,” Ana said, rolling her eyes under her hood. So he’s one of those wordy types. “The contract has no deadline or limit. It’s messy.”

He let out a thoughtful hum. “Well, I only made it with her directly. I suppose it would be bad form to hold you to an agreement that you weren’t present for. If you wish, you may feel free to leave for other work at any time.”

Ana turned, fixing his calm gaze with a sharp glare of her own. She knew how her eyes would look in the dim light of the cathedral. To her surprise, he didn’t seem at all perturbed by the sight. “And Gava?”

“A contract, even one as informal as ours, is only as binding as its enforcement,” Whitehorn said, reaching a hoof up to adjust his glasses. “And without a ship, I expect you two wouldn’t be too difficult to track down.”

Ana pursed her lips, staring him down. After several seconds she looked away. “So what do you want?”

“I want to stop this war before it gets any further out of hoof.”

Ana arched a brow. “I didn’t take you for the hero.”

He let out a little chuckle at that. “To put it simply, I need Governor Rhea deposed, and I’m afraid talking and good faith will be rather slow to take. The guildmasters will need a more immediate threat if they’re to back any change in leadership.”

“More immediate than a siege?”

“Much more immediate, yes. This city could withstand a siege for years, and that’s far outside of my timeline.”

And a schemer, too. Ana had worked with schemers before. She didn’t like them. “So what are you asking me to do?”

“I want you to apply pressure, however that may be,” Whitehorn said. “For whatever reason, the city needs to think the siege is hopeless. You’re free to use whatever methods you deem appropriate, and when it’s done then perhaps we can revisit the question of Gava’s contract.”

He wants chaos. “How does the Countess feel about all this?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant, frankly. I’m your employer, and this is what I require of you.” He paused, letting her process his words. “Do you understand?”

Ana felt a strange sense of relief at his words. Of course Rarity wouldn’t approve of any of this. After a few seconds, she nodded. “I understand.”

“Excellent!” He slipped off the pew, the clop of his hooves against the cold stone echoing around them. “If you need to speak with me, I’ll be sure to arrange some time alone every few days at least. For now, I have other matters to attend to. Good luck, Ana. I have every confidence in your ability.”

He walked away without waiting for her response. Ana kept her eyes forwards, her ears twitching under her hood at the sound of his receding hoofsteps.

Ana looked up into Princess Luna’s face, meeting the glaring sapphires that so fiercely threatened retribution against all who wished harm on her ponies, and wondered if she would be proud.

“And y’all attacked her?!”

“Well—I mean, it was just a shove!”

“Rainbow Dash!” Applejack’s nostrils flared as she glowered at Rainbow under the brim of her hat. “That is not how ya should be treatin’ our friends!”

Rainbow grimaced. She had come to Applejack’s little room in the cargo hold hoping to find some support. “Are they really our friends, though?”

“After all they’ve done for us? Darn tootin’ they’re our friends! And even if they weren’t—” Applejack sighed, leaning back against her bunk. “Look, Dash, I know y’all’re stressed. We’re all stressed. But we gotta stick together in this. Ya can’t be goin’ around attackin’ ponies.”

Rainbow looked down at her hooves with a heavy sigh. She knew it was wrong, but it had felt so right at the time. It had felt like there wasn’t even any choice in the matter. A thought occurred to her, and a cold shiver ran down her spine. In a quiet voice she said, “Twilight started getting anger issues before—y’know.”

A heavy silence hung in the air. Applejack drew close and put a hoof around Rainbow’s shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug. “It ain’t like that, sugar cube. Twi had that magic all up in her horn, right? All y’all got in you is stress and concern. Ain’t nothin’ unnatural about that.”

Rainbow clenched her jaw, fighting the burning in her eyes. “I hope you’re right, AJ.”

The hiss of steam caught their attention. Both mares looked up, exchanging a couple small, comforting smiles before heading out into the cargo hold together. Star Trails was standing in the open doorway, her eyes wide as if she’d been caught somewhere she shouldn’t be.

“Trails!” Rainbow took an uncertain step forward, causing the unicorn to jump in alarm. “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to apologize.”

Trails stared at her wide-eyed, but said nothing. Her gaze darted between Rainbow, Applejack, and then to Twilight’s room, where Princess Luna was sound asleep.

“C’mon now, girl,” Applejack said warmly. “Rainbow ain’t gonna bite ya. Not a second time at least, I’ll make sure of that much.”

Trails opened her mouth stiffly. She put on a nervous smile as her hooves kneaded at the floor.

“Uh, Trails?” Rainbow asked, cocking her head. “You alright?”

In a sudden blur of motion, Star Trails twisted around and bolted back into the hallway. The rapid beat of her hooves receded into the distance until it was drowned out by the thrumming of the engine.

Rainbow looked to Applejack, seeing her own confusion reflected back at her. “What was that?”

Applejack gave a half-hearted shrug. “Reckon she’s still dealin’ with her feelings about things.”

“It’s just… unlike her. She’s normally so talkative.” Rainbow’s eyes widened as a sudden yawn overtook her. The anxious antics of the past night seemed to catch up to her all at once, her eyelids growing heavy. “Oh, wow. I think I’m finally ready to hit the hay.”

Applejack arched a brow. “Don’t y’all have trainin’ with Sabre later today?”

“AJ, I am a champion napper.” Rainbow smirked as she spread her wings, her hooves rising up off the ground. “I just need to rest my eyes a bit, replenish my awesome sauce.”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Rainbow. I’m gonna go grab some breakfast with all the other productive members of the crew.”

Rainbow waved a hoof at her, smirking as she turned away, aiming for her little cloud room hovering along the ceiling. “Ah, give it a rest. You farmers think you’re so special just cause you wake up at the crack of dawn.”

Applejack chuckled. “Sleep tight, RD.”

“Oh, you know I will!”

The cargo door slammed shut with a hiss of steam, leaving Rainbow alone. Her cloud home had no need of a door, so she flew in through a window and alighted with a tired sigh, her wings drooping at her side. She was exhausted both physically and emotionally, her body having finally used up the last dregs of nervous energy since leaving Canterlot. How long had it been since she’d woken up for that dive, terrified at the prospect of having to fight some monstrous Twilight?

And now she couldn’t shake the fear that it was happening to her, too. Puffs of cloudstuff drifted into the air as she slumped into her bed, burying her eye in the soft material and drenching herself in the warm darkness. Why had she tried to hurt Star Trails?

Rainbow had never been a violent pony. Competitive, confrontational, sure, but even when Gilda had come to Ponyville and shown her true nature, Rainbow hadn’t tried to hurt anyone. A flash of annoyance creased her lips into a frown as she thought of her old foalhood friend. Her beak had always had a sharp edge to it, almost like—

Gava. The annoyance turned to anger. Rainbow wasn’t a violent pony, but if there was one person in this world who deserved violence, it was the heartless griffon that had stolen her eye and hurt her friends.

Rainbow rolled onto her other side, growling to herself. She didn’t know what terrified her more, the possibility that her mind was being twisted by some dark corrupting force, or that Applejack may be right and that it was all coming from her.

As disconcerting as it was, Rainbow didn’t have the energy to stay up tossing and turning and wondering. Her thoughts grew sluggish as sleep approached, and soon she was drifting into its comforting embrace.

The last thought she had was of Gava, broken and bloodied at her hooves and begging for mercy. The corner of her lips quirked up into a small smile.

She felt neither triumph nor glee. Just a content satisfaction.

Author's Notes:

At some point you'd think that Rarity that her habit of hoping that whoever she speaks to will be interested in peace and harmony is growing increasingly foalish, but perhaps it's a foalishness that's worth hanging on to. Either way, the powers that surround her work on their own timetables by their own methods, whether she likes it or not.

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X: Of Sieges

They’d been flying for a little over four hours by Ana’s guess, and her wings were starting to ache.

It helped that they’d found a good thermal to loiter on, but even with the warm air pushing them back up at the end of every circle, holding one’s wings out for so long without rest was a sure way to develop the low, pulsing ache of strained muscles. She glanced over to her sister, gliding opposite her in the pattern they’d established. Griffons weren’t built for endurance flight. No matter how hard Gava might clench her jaw and glare at the clouds and try to pretend otherwise, Ana could tell that she was struggling.

They were circling high above the bustling docks that dominated the West Quarter of Friesland, using the clouds for concealment. Airships came to and fro, the sailors and dock workers alike hustling to unload heavy bundles of supplies via crane and hoof: grain, munitions, and the little imported niceties that made life bearable even with an army encamped outside the walls. Those in command had been sure to keep a reserve of such vital commodities in case of siege, but imports from abroad would let them last far longer. The hike in prices was noticeable, but not harmful. Yet.

Ana narrowed her eyes, picking out a new ship crossing the horizon. It was a hefty construct of dark metal, with a wide base supported by a long balloon affixed on either side, and large propellers on the front and back of each balloon pushing its bulk. A pair of long wings jutted down underneath it at an angle, perhaps to give space for control surfaces or just for balance. It was unique compared to the simpler one-balloon underslung design most common in the docks; a southern ship, most likely. Its captain must have come a long way in the hopes of greater profits.

Ana angled her body, passing over Gava as she guided herself towards the approaching ship. Gava fell into place beside her with a grimace, pumping her wings to catch up.

“You finally find a target you’re satisfied with?” she asked, a little short of breath.

Ana nodded, pointing a hoof. “That one.”

“Finally.” Gava flexed her talons, the sharpened tips gleaming in the sunlight. “Any longer and I might’ve fallen into the ocean of boredom.”

“Hey, put those things away.” Ana did a brief twirl, dusting the tip of her tail over Gava’s beak and drawing an indignant squawk. “Nobody’s gonna cooperate if you get all bloody.”

“What’s it matter if they cooperate? It’s just a bunch of ponies, Ana. Claws are faster, and they’ll probably just surrender once they see me in action.”

Ana pursed her lips, but didn’t offer any further rebuttal. Many hard and frequently bloody years on the job had dulled whatever sense of righteousness she might have once nurtured. This was the wrong business for remorse. Not that she’d had much opportunity for it.

Until they came along. And how did you thank them?

Ana shook her head with an annoyed growl. Focus. You don’t owe them anything.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the ship. It was making a beeline for the island, and as Ana drew closer she began to pick out more details. The lower deck was open to the sky, secured only by a loose net, allowing the large stone bins and rope-secured bundles inside to be loaded and unloaded with ease by any dock crane. She could only see a couple ponies walking around the deck with pens in their mouths, leaning over the netting and squinting at the cargo before making small notes on their clipboards. The deck ended in a small cabin towards the bow with a wide glass window, where she expected the pilot would be stationed.

By her guess, the ship probably had about a dozen ponies in the crew, plus the captain and an officer. Not one would see them coming.

She glanced down at the metal shoe fitted snugly around one of her hooves. Small, sharp studs lined the bottom face, and a pair of curving blades rested against the foreleg above it. They were attached with a simple hinge, and it was a simple matter to pull the blades out and lock them in place, where they’d extend out from her hooves like a pair of cold metal talons. One of her pair had been lost in the crash of the Roc’s Screech, but even just the one arcata was enough to multiply her lethality ten-fold.

After a moment’s consideration, she shook her head and looked away. She didn’t need any blade to take out a few sailors, and it was difficult to walk with the two sharp prongs sticking out from her hoof. No, she’d keep all six limbs free for this.

She tugged at the strings of the thick cloth jerkin around her barrel, ensuring it was snug. “Ready, sis?”

Rather than answer with words, Gava folded her wings in and let gravity take her. Ana couldn’t help but grin as she followed suit, taking a moment to close her eyes and sink into the sensation of the wind rippling through her mane.

They veered to opposite sides, each aiming for one of the two ponies on the deck. There was a splash of glistening red as Gava landed, sinking her talons into her prey’s neck and drawing out a wet gasp. Ana’s target jumped in alarm, his face paling at the sight, and he was still watching with stiff-bodied shock when Ana’s armored hoof crashed into his face. He collapsed in an instant, his clipboard clattering against the metal beside him.

The sisters exchanged a quick glance. Ana pointed a hoof downwards. I’ll get below decks. Gava nodded, pausing only to lick some blood off her talons before pacing towards the closed door of the control room.

Ana’s eyes didn’t linger on the bloodied sailor. Her arcata flashed out, severing the netting over the cargo hold with a quick tug, and she dropped inside, alighting on the lower deck without a sound.

There was the clatter of cutlery hitting a plate. Ana turned to see a pegasus mare and unicorn stallion watching her with wide eyes, each seated on either side of a simple table and wearing worn work overalls. She pounced, spinning mid-air to land a double-legged buck against the stallion’s chest. His yelp cut off with a groan as his head slammed against the hard wall behind him.

The mare was quick on her hooves, turning the table up with a quick buck. Ana rolled under it with ease, but the mare was already galloping away, her lungs belting out a panicky scream.

“Raiders! Raiders!”

Ana launched herself forwards, wings pumping at her sides and ears twitching at the muffled sound of pounding hooves around her. She caught up with the mare just as she opened a door leading out of the open-air cargo hold, bringing her to the ground and cutting off her shriek with a kick to the gut.

Ana looked up as the mare doubled over. Hammocks lined the walls, gently swaying with the motion of the ship. A half-dozen sailors all looked up from their dice, eyes darting between Ana and the mare gagging on the ground. A bottle tipped over with a quiet clinking, spilling its contents.

Ana waved a hoof. “Hello, there.”

The sailors stood up and spread across the room, glowering down at her. One of them, a unicorn stallion with a burnt red coat, stepped forwards. “What’re you doing on our ship, bat pony?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was stealing it?” Ana asked.

The stallion snorted. “And you’re gonna take all of us on? On your own, little bat?”

Ana shrugged. “If you want me to.” She paused, taking a moment to consider drawing her arcata before dismissing the thought once more. “You’d probably like it more than if my sister did it.”

A wave of laughter passed over the sailors. “And where might she be, then?”

Ana screwed her muzzle up as if in deep thought. “Probably in the control room with a few bloody bodies. I imagine even a gang of idiots like you might’ve heard of her. Does ‘Gava the Griffon’ ring any bells?”

That got their attention. She grinned as they all frowned at her with a sudden gravity.

A mare stepped forward, her voice low and her lip curled back. “The same Gava that bit off Jester’s horn in Leviathan Wakes?”

Ana blinked. “Wait, she did what?”

She knew Jester. The mare owned the biggest bar in the traveling ocean city, and over any given year she’d count almost every free-roaming mercenary, pirate, and salvage diver among her patronage. She was everybody’s friend, she had a hoof in every pot, and if you wanted to piss off every ship-bound pony in Equestria, biting her horn off would be the quickest way to do it.

It occurred to Ana that she really ought to have a long talk with her sister about long-term thinking.

“Didn’t think her actions would ever catch up with her, did she?” the mare sneered. She stepped forwards, the other sailors close behind.

“Are you threatening my sister?” Ana bared her fangs, her tail lashing out behind her. Her pulse quickened, bringing with it the jittery thrill of adrenaline and pushing out any concerns over lethality. “Kinda sounds like that’s what you’re doing.”

“Not just her, bat,” the stallion spat. “Course the bounty’s on the dead hen herself, but I don’t think Jester would turn down a bat wing necklace.”

“That’s a little grotesque, don’t you think?” Ana stepped back, her tail brushing up against the wall behind her. “Look, I’m kinda trying something new today. How about you all get together and tie yourselves up, and I guarantee you’ll live to set hoof on land again.”

They grinned at each other as they closed in further. They were just a few steps away now. “I think you should be more worried about your own life for now, bat,” the mare said.

Ana grimaced. This would be a lot easier if I could just magic them all in place. She looked between the two ponies in charge, the ones that had threatened Gava, and a surge of bitter anger flared up in her breast. Why should she bother trying to keep them alive anyway? They sneered down at her, perhaps mistaking the expression for one of fear.

Well, I tried. She raised a foreleg and flicked her hoof. The mare that had been cowering on the ground beside her whimpered as the arcata blades snapped into place with a loud click, drawing the assembled sailors’ eyes. At the same time, she hooked her wing claws around the throwing blades tucked away into each side of her jerkin. The sailors were oblivious to the motion, distracted by the more obvious weapon on her hoof.

With a flick of her wings, the mare and the stallion who had threatened Gava fell to the ground like puppets cut loose from their strings, blades embedded in their eyes up to the tang.

The remaining four sailors jerked back, eyes wide as the last twitches of life fled from the fresh corpses. Slowly they looked back to Ana’s cold gaze.

“Against my better judgment, I’ll give you one more shot,” Ana growled. “I know my sister can be a bitch, but is it really worth your lives?”

The distrust was clear in their eyes, and she couldn’t blame them. Everybody knew that you couldn’t trust a thestral.

Well, guess there’s always next time.

Guttural roars filled the little barracks as the sailors rushed her all at once. Ana snarled as she threw two more blades, each striking true but doing little more than stagger their targets. She lashed out at the first pony to reach her with her arcata, cutting two deep gashes across his neck. He fell to the ground, clutching at the wound in a vain attempt to staunch the spurting blood.

She flapped her wings as the second sailor reached her, vaulting over his lowered horn and sending him sprawling with a kick to his rear. The third sailor had a small work knife held in his feathers, and she knocked it loose with a quick jab. She was too slow to catch the fourth, who tackled her with a furious roar and drove her up against the wall.

Ana gasped as the breath was knocked out of her. She grit her teeth, grabbing her last pair of knives from her outfit and plunging them into her attacker’s flanks. The small blades were hardly lethal in such a place, but it was enough to draw a scream of pain, and she seized the opportunity to push him back and squeeze her arcata into the space between them. A wet, red gurgle slipped past his lips as the sharp points slid into his neck.

She tossed him off just as the other two ponies were recovering. One of them ripped a hammock off the wall, tossing the makeshift net over her while his companion kept her hemmed in. She flared her wings wide as the net landed, keeping it from tangling her legs, and lunged forward, bearing the nearest sailor to the ground.

She made to lunge with her arcata, growling as it caught on the netting. Instead she opened her maw wide, pressing down onto him and sinking her fangs into his neck.

He screamed as warm blood flooded into her mouth and dribbled down her chin. “Ah, fuck! It’s drinking my blood!”

It.

Ana caught movement in her peripheral vision. She lashed out with a hind leg and was rewarded with the vibration of impact and a grunt of pain. She bit harder, pulling back with a vicious snarl. The pony’s screams were cut off abruptly, and his struggles died down shortly after.

She spat the blood out as she turned to face the last sailor, who had opted to remain curled up against the wall instead of rising to face her once more. In his fearful eyes she saw her image reflected—a thestral panting with exertion, the thick blood of a pony staining fangs bared in a rictus grin, and glimmering golden eyes spread wide with the heart-pounding rush of battle.

She took a deep breath. It couldn’t have been more than five seconds, and she’d added four kills to her name.

“D-d-don’t kill me!” the sailor begged, hiding under his forelegs.

Ana took a step forwards.

“P-please! I’m sorry! I d-d-don’t want to d-die!”

She reached a wing over to pull a knife out of a corpse’s eye with a wet squelch.

“Oh, fuck, oh, please. Oh, Luna, s-save me!”

Luna.

Ana paused. She thought of the great cathedral in Friesland and the likeness of Princess Luna frowning down at her. She thought of Gava describing how peaceful the Princess had looked, even as battle raged all around her on the Argo. She thought of overheard conversations between Countess Rarity and Pinkie Pie, and of a midnight blue dress hidden away beneath her father’s skull.

She licked the blood from her lips. A cold chill ran down her spine before settling into a stony weight in her gut.

The throwing knife splashed into a pool of blood on the ground, spraying a few red drops onto her coat. The stallion whimpered and flinched as she stormed past him without a word, past the cowering mare she had initially chased inside, and back into the open air of the cargo bay.

She shoved her arcata back into the sheathed position. She raised a hoof to scrub the blood off her muzzle, but all she did was smear more onto it.

Idiot filly! What are you doing? Why was she stressing out over a little blood? She may not have ever eaten pony flesh like her sister, but she’d gotten blood on her tongue plenty of times in her life. It tasted good. And why wouldn’t her heart stop racing? The danger was past!

She shook her head as she flew back up to the upper deck. She needed to focus until the job was done. Distractions would only endanger her or her sister. With renewed determination she flew through the open door of the control room.

There were only three bodies here, but if anything there was even more red on the scene than she had left down below. A few stray limbs sat in puddles of it in the corners, far from the terrified, frozen faces of their former owners.

Focus! Gava stood at the front of the room, eyes forward, talons idly occupied by the controls, and dark smears of red on her curved beak. The West Quarter was just passing under them.

Gava glanced back. “Finally. So how many were there?”

“E-eight.” Ana stepped up to Gava’s side, swallowing and putting more force into her voice. “Maybe if I had it as easy as you I’d have finished sooner.”

Gava shot her a sideways glance, but Ana kept her gaze resolutely forward. At length she finally spoke. “Yeah. Guess you had twice as many as me.”

“I left a couple survivors.”

Gava snorted. “Not for long. We’re almost there now.”

She pointed a talon at the approaching shape of their objective, the garrison fortress. It was constructed in the old style, a castle of sheer stone walls and towers that the city had long since outgrown. Where once there had been fields of wheat, now mismatching stone buildings squatted around the castle’s base. In the past it would have housed a company of trained archers and warriors, but now it served as training grounds, administration, and storage for the city’s police force.

Most importantly to them, however, it was the site of one of Friesland’s two central granaries, as well as a sizeable stockade of munitions.

A small airship was approaching from the opposite side of the city. A pegasus stood on the prow, waving colorful flags in her wings. Ana didn’t know flag code, but she imagined it probably meant something like, ‘turn back now,’ ‘prepare to be boarded,’ or ‘this is your final warning.’

“Any trouble while I was gone?” Ana asked.

“Nah. You know me.” Gava grinned, nudging Ana with a wing. “I’m quick when I wanna be, even if I’m not sneaky like you.”

Ana nodded, half-heartedly returning her sister’s expression. “Glad you finally admit it.”

Gava wrapped a talon around each of the two throttles, slowly pushing them each as far forwards as they would go. The ship shuddered as the propellers spun faster, and bursts of steam spewed from pipes meandering across the walls.

“Think I’m on target?” Gava asked, her voice casual.

Ana gave a quick nod. “We should get going before it hits.”

“You think? What would I do without you, sis?”

Ana rolled her eyes as she shoved Gava off the controls. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

“Whoa, alright, fine!” Gava grumbled, turning for the door. “What’s up with you, huh?”

“We’ll talk when we’re safe.”

The wind whistled past them as they stepped out onto the deck. From this angle, Ana could see another one of the small Friesland ships approaching from the side, the pegasus signalmare aboard it frantically waving her wings. They were close enough that she could just make out the mare’s voice shouting commands.

A hatch in the deck opened, and Ana stiffened as the stallion she had spared climbed out, followed shortly after by the one she had knocked out with one buck.

They looked to her and Gava with wide eyes. “What the hay are you doing?!”

“You didn’t tie them up?” Gava asked. Ana could only offer up a weak shrug. “Whatever. More done than doing, anyways.” She spread her wings, flying up and away from the soon-to-be crash site.

“Wait, stop!” The sailors broke into a gallop, sprinting across the deck. “We’re flying too low!”

Ana knew they wouldn’t have time to correct course even if they did make it. Her hooves lifted off the ground as she took flight, but she found herself hesitating.

She turned to face the sailors as the ship drifted past beneath her. “You can’t save it! Abandon ship while you still can!”

They didn’t listen. One paused to shout some expletive at her, but the wind carried it away. They filed into the control room without hesitation, slamming the door shut behind them.

With a sigh, Ana looked up and flew after her sister. An odd phrase was lingering in her mind, and with a start she realized she couldn’t remember the last time she had meant it.

I’m sorry.

“Whoa, apple pancakes?”

The pancakes slid onto Rainbow’s plate with a quiet plop. A small smile tugged at Applejack’s lips as she walked to her own plate, slid a few more cakes onto it, and set the pan aside on the stovetop. “Heh. Yer welcome.”

Rainbow rubbed her hooves together as she grinned down at the plate. The thick, fluffy cakes were stuffed with dried apple slices. “Where’d you get apples?”

“Heighton, before we left. Got enough to last us a good while too, I reckon.” Applejack doused her plate with a healthy helping of syrup before pushing the bottle across the table and sitting down. “Shame I couldn’t find the tree, but it’s good to taste apple again anywho.”

Rainbow caught the bottle with a wing. She upended it over her plate without hesitation, drowning the pancakes in a miniature flood of sweetness. She had barely put the bottle down before she leaned into the plate in earnest, tearing off a huge bite.

Applejack snorted, shaking her head. “Good to see yer feelin’ better, at least. Might wanna go a bit easy on that syrup, though. It’s a long trip north, and Sabre ain’t plannin’ on makin’ any stops she ain’t got to.”

Rainbow nodded enthusiastically as she swallowed. “Good! Twilight needs us there as soon as possible.”

Applejack didn’t say anything to that, but Rainbow was more than content to focus on her breakfast. It had been a long time since she’d had the opportunity to enjoy Apple Family cooking, and the familiar flavor was a welcome escape from the fears that had haunted the corners of her mind since Altalusia. The world may have ended, but there were some things that remained constant; Rainbow Dash was awesome, Applejack made delicious apple pancakes, and Twilight Sparkle would always be her friend.

Rainbow looked up, eager to share the sentiment, but the smile on her face faltered as she saw the way Applejack was looking at her plate. The cowpony had a tight-lipped frown on her face, a faint wetness pooling in her eyes.

“AJ? You alright?”

Applejack sighed, raising a hoof to her eyes. “Aw, hay, Rainbow. I’m just bein’ a silly pony. Don’t y’all mind me none.”

Rainbow licked the syrup from her lips, stealing one last glance down at her half-eaten breakfast before standing up. She walked around to her friend’s side and put a comforting wing around her shoulder.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You can talk to me.”

“I know.” Applejack shook her head down at the plate. “It’s just—well, I ain’t had an apple pancake since—y’know?”

Rainbow frowned. After a moment she gave a nod. “Yeah.”

“And it’s just, my whole life used to revolve around these li’l fruits. Apples’re what brought my family together every mornin’ and every afternoon, every day of my life. I got up today and I thought I’d make y’all breakfast, and apple pancakes just feels so right, but—” She looked up, her lower lip quivering as she looked at the empty table before her. “Oh, Celestia, I just w-wanna see my baby sister smile again!”

A sob wracked Applejack’s body, and she leaned into Rainbow’s embrace, her hat falling to the floor. Rainbow’s eye widened as her normally stoic friend began to cry in earnest, and she raised a hoof to awkwardly pat her mane in consolation.

“H-hey, it’s okay,” Rainbow said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky as it felt. What was she supposed to say? Applejack always knew just what to say when ponies needed her to be there for them.

With a start, Rainbow realized that she hadn’t seen Applejack cry or show any signs of mourning since they first arrived in Heighton. How long had it been now? Almost a month, and Applejack had remained resolutely calm, a steady rock in the emotional storm of the apocalypse, lending a shoulder or a hoof whenever it was needed and never asking for anything in return.

It wasn’t right, Rainbow decided. Applejack didn’t deserve to carry that burden alone anymore than the rest of them did. Rainbow’s hooves tightened around her shoulders, pulling her best friend close.

She still didn’t know what to say. Maybe she didn’t have to say anything.

Some of her own tears dripped down her cheeks as she thought of her parents. She’d always gotten so annoyed with them, and now she’d never have the chance to to tell them both how much they really meant to her.

But no, she would be strong, for Applejack if nothing else. She thought of Gava, tempering her tears with the smoldering heat of her anger. There would be time to mourn later.

She wasn’t sure how long it was before Applejack’s sobs died away. She let out a shuddering sigh, shaking her head against Rainbow’s chest. “Shucks, the pancakes’re gonna be all cold now.”

“I’ve eaten cold pancakes before,” Rainbow said. “They’re still pretty good.”

“I guess so. Sorry. And thanks.” Applejack pulled away, wiping her tears with a hoof as she gave Rainbow a weary smile. “Guess I’ve been holdin’ some of that in for a while.”

Rainbow grinned, picking Applejack’s hat off the ground and placing it back on her head. “I’m here for you, AJ. Just don’t let anyone else know about it, okay? I’ve got my reputation to think about!”

Applejack snorted, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” She turned back to look down at her plate. After a few seconds, “Reckon I’d better eat these. Granny’d hate for me to waste good apples.”

She sniffled, and for a moment Rainbow thought that the crying was going to start again, but Applejack pulled through. She leaned down and took a small bite, chewing slowly before swallowing.

“Land’s sakes,” she breathed, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards. “These’re some good apple pancakes.”

There was a hiss of steam to the side, and both mares turned to see Flintlock step into the galley, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looked between them both, perhaps noting the redness in their eyes or the wetness on their cheeks, before clearing his throat. “Either of ye seen my helmet?”

Rainbow cocked her head, exchanging a confused glance with Applejack. “Like your dive helmet?”

He nodded, walking past them to the pantry door. “Aye. Ain’t been workin’ ever since that dragon damn near burnt it off me in Old Canterlot. I set it down in th’ workshop t’ make some repairs, but th’ damn thing seems t’ have just up ’n walked off on me!”

Rainbow shrugged. “Sure you didn’t just misplace it?”

“Dash, I do not just misplace my gear,” Flint growled back at her. He opened the pantry and stepped inside, picking up a small mug and placing it under the tap of a keg of cider. He turned the spigot, frowning as nothing came out. “What th’...” He moved the mug to another keg, only to get the same result. “Wh—where’s my cider?!”

“Cider?” Rainbow echoed. “In the morning?”

“Aye, cider, at any time of day!” Flint re-emerged from the pantry with his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I got three full kegs in Heighton, ‘n two of ‘em are empty! Now every member of th’ crew knows not t’ touch my cider, so which of ye did it?”

“We didn’t do nothin’ to y’all’s cider,” Applejack said. She cocked an eye towards Rainbow. “Did we?”

“Nuh uh!” Rainbow raised a hoof, crossed it over her chest, and stuck it up to her eyepatch. “Pinkie Promise, Flint.”

Flint cocked his head, his mouth hanging slightly open. His gunmetal blue eyes darted between both mares.

“I made some pancakes,” Applejack offered, nodding towards where the last pancakes were waiting in the pan. “If’n y’all’re hungry.”

Flint’s stomach answered for him, letting out a growl that sounded even more irritated than he often did. With one last flick of his tail he walked around the table to the stovetop, grumbling under his breath, and picked up the whole pan. He mumbled out a muffled “Thanks” before taking the pancakes, pan and all, out of the galley. The door closed behind him with a burst of steam.

Rainbow immediately turned to meet Applejack’s eyes, seeing her own confusion reflected back at her. Rainbow knew Applejack would never lie, and she knew Applejack knew that she wouldn’t dare make a false Pinkie Promise, even if the party pony was separated from them by a week of airship travel across an ocean filled with monsters.

“Real mystery, ain’t it?”

“Yeah.” Rainbow rubbed at her muzzle with a wing. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Alright, let’s hear it.”

“Let’s finish eating first.”

Applejack let out a soft chuckle, her eyes twinkling as she turned back to her plate. “Bet I’ll clear my plate before y’all do.”

“You’re on!”

The ocean floor was a place of darkness, and with a small start Twilight realized that she was getting used to it.

She drifted over the submerged sands surrounded in a lavender bubble, leaving a small trail of bubbles and swirling black and red wisps in her wake. In her first experiences with the ocean, it had seemed like a malicious entity to her, almost alive. The sheer darkness that rushed in to swallow up any part of her surroundings not protected by suit or horn lights had felt like a leering monster always waiting for her to drop her guard, ready to pounce and snap her up in an instant.

Of course, Twilight had a much better idea of what a monster was now than she once did. She was no longer afraid of the dark. She couldn’t even see it anymore.

In spite of herself, she had to admit that the vision Midnight had forced upon her was useful. Past the dim glow of her shield, what was once an imposing wall of black was now revealed to be the sunken ruins of the Equestrian countryside, made all the bleaker by the complete lack of color. Most of it was unrecognizable after a millennia of deep sea erosion, but every now and then Twilight could pick out details. There, a great tree skeleton fossilized by the immense pressure of the surrounding water, and there the tarnished helmet of a Royal Guard next to a half-buried chariot.

Twilight blinked, and Midnight was standing on one of the tree branches. She looked away, only to see her dark passenger watching her from an approaching hillside. Everywhere she looked, Midnight waited in silence.

Twilight grimaced. Her horn glowed, and the crackling tingle of teleportation rushed over her body as she flung herself across the depths.

She drifted higher, rising over the fallen in corpse of what was once a large brick building, the last survivor of whatever community it may have been part of. Midnight was watching from the ruins.

She’d worn herself out in her rush to reach Canterlot after Altalusia, and now she knew to pace herself. Giving herself a few minutes between teleports ensured she could cross distances quickly without exhausting her reserves, pausing only to cook more of the changeling meat she had brought with her or take brief naps while Midnight maintained the shield spell.

Midnight.

Twilight’s doppelganger had been entirely silent since leaving Canterlot. It helped eat, it helped maintain the magic barriers that kept the ocean pressure at bay, but otherwise it just watched her with the same bloodshot smirk.

A herd of seaponies swam into view, their blind eyes snapping in her direction. They hissed, but didn’t dare to approach, giving her a wide berth as she floated past.

Midnight wanted something from her, clearly. Twilight had an idea of what it was, too, but she was loathe to grant it even if it was deserved. She let out an irritated growl as she caught sight of Midnight standing ahead on the ocean floor.

I know what you’re doing, she thought. It’s foalish.

Midnight didn’t respond, but it didn’t have to to convey its thoughts. They were two minds in one body, and it was easy to tell when one thought the other was being a hypocrite.

Twilight sighed. What was the point of it all? She had to admit that she preferred the endless mental prodding and biting humor over this dead silence. She was the one acting like a foal, and both of them knew it.

Thank you.

Oh, my. Midnight was floating in front of her, a hoof raised to its chest in mock surprise. What was that, little flower?

Twilight grit her teeth. Her horn flared, teleporting them across the sunken horizon once more. You heard me. Thank you.

Mm, isn’t that just delicious.

Could you please not make this any worse than it has to be? Twilight asked, rolling her eyes. You helped me save Spike. You helped me save my friends.

Midnight’s grin widened as it floated closer. And I saved our lives. Neither us nor them would have made it out of those ruins without me.

Twilight glared back it. I doubt they would have made it out without me, either.

Midnight arched a brow, pulling back. After a few moments it coiled its body around hers, bringing its muzzle up to her ear. A fine point, little flower. Perhaps now you realize how unstoppable we are when you move with me, hmm?

Twilight shot it a sideways scowl as she lit her horn, casting yet another teleport.

As the light of the spell faded away, Twilight took in her surroundings. Looking down, she saw that the water displaced by her teleportation had revealed the buried remains of an old railway, the wooden planks long lost to time.

It heads north.

Twilight sent a ping out north, along the direction of the rails. It came back a few seconds later, and her eyes widened with a sudden energy. A city!

Let’s not get distracted.

It’s not a distraction! We can just stop here along the way.

That sounds like a distraction!

Twilight pursed her lips. She raised a hoof to her chin in thought. We’re almost out of changeling meat. We can just stop here to— She paused, thoughts stumbling over the next word. —to replenish our supplies.

Midnight glowered at her. Both of them knew that she was more interested in exploring ruins than in food, but Twilight hadn’t been lying.

Very well. We will detour for a day, and no longer.

Twilight clapped her hooves in excitement, sending out a rapid burst of magical pings towards the city as her little glowing air bubble raced through the water. It was big, far bigger than Ponyville, and clearly urbanized. The spells came back to her, outlining the image of towering concrete buildings arranged in rigid blocks, many listing to either side or completely collapsed after weathering the floods. She ran through what she knew of Equestrian geography, trying to think of cities so directly north of Canterlot, and only one answer came to mind.

It didn’t take long for the hazy, drowned skyline of the city to come into view, confirming her theories. It was the largest inland city in North Equestria, built on the shores of the Foalga River, and with a thrill she realized that she could even make out the still-standing silhouette of the old Stallion’s Palace.

Twilight’s horn sparked a brilliant lavender as she cast a final teleport, leaving nothing but the cold, rushing water to take her place.

The siege camp had grown immensely in the three days since Rarity left it. The hill with Countess Silkie’s banner was now completely covered in her colorful tents. Copses of trees had been felled en masse, fueling the great cooking pits and lending their thick protective bark to the palisade being constructed around the camp. Even from her distant position atop Friesland’s inner wall she could see the soldiers milling about, the light sometimes flashing off the sharpened ends of the pikes swinging over their heads. No matter how hard she squinted, she couldn’t make out any distinctive coat colors, let alone the soft yellow of Fluttershy’s form.

Other sites had been claimed as well. Count Armet’s helmet emblem fluttered in the wind over the barricade he’d established across the eastern road, and Count Dane’s snarling dog could be seen standing guard in several positions within his camp, which stretched across the wide open space between the road and a distant forest. Thin columns of smoke from cooking fires filled the sky, and when the wind blew towards the city Rarity imagined she could smell the scent of meals being prepared.

“Quite the sight, isn’t it, love?”

Rarity turned to where Captain Piaffe was standing beside her. Both mares were weighed down by the rimmed helmets of the Friesland Guard, their ears tucked within thick protective covers. Though unlike Rarity, who was constantly fretting with her helmet in some vain attempt to keep it from ruining her carefully styled mane, Piaffe’s ponytail rested against her cream-coated neck just as neatly as it ever did.

With a grimace Rarity realized that Piaffe was referring to the bulwark of defenses surrounding the city. “I’m afraid I’ve never been a mare with an appreciation for military architecture.”

“Are you not an artist, Countess?” Piaffe asked, looking back with a smirk. “Or were you just pulling my tail last night, Pinkie?”

“Nuh uh!” Pinkie’s helmet seemed to be struggling to contain the wild puffiness of her mane. She gave an exaggerated shake of her head, the helmet teetering dangerously with the motion. “She’s an artiste from nose to toes!”

“I am a seamstress,” Rarity corrected, turning her muzzle up as Pinkie giggled behind them. “A mare of couture. I don’t see how it’s at all relevant.”

“Well, as a mare of couture, I imagine you can appreciate the production of generations of talent and earnest labor.” Piaffe draped one hoof over Rarity’s shoulder, pulling her in close and directing her vision down to the defenses below. “You see how the strongpoints of the first wall cover each other, ensuring that no defender is ever left unsupported? Cannons in receded firing positions, and rails so they can be quickly pulled back to the second level if the first is overwhelmed. And the Frieslanders themselves!”

If Piaffe noticed the way that Rarity had stiffened at the contact, she didn’t have the decency to care. She instead directed her attention up to the wide, squat tower that melded into the wall behind them. The wide bore of the Frieslander was just visible from where they stood, poking over the edge of the tower.

“The ultimate defenders of the city, the great mortars that no cannon on the island can ever hope to match, designed by one of Friesland’s own Gifted on her deathbed! They’re the final stroke on a canvas of military engineering unparalleled in all of northern Equestria!”

Rarity rolled her eyes as she peeled Piaffe’s hoof away from her shoulder and took a meaningful step to the side. “Don’t you think you’re being rather melodramatic, darling?” Pinkie let out a quiet snort behind them.

“Ah, perhaps I am.” Piaffe raised a hoof to adjust the lapels of her coat, looking down at the bluecoated soldiers garrisoning the lower wall with obvious pride. “But it is an art, dearheart, even if you don’t understand it. It’s the art of all of Friesland. Have you never had to deal with a pony who didn’t respect your art?”

Rarity pursed her lips, looking away with a begrudging frown. “Yes, I suppose I have.”

It was madness, wasn’t it? Here this mare stood, speaking of weapons of war and instruments of destruction with the same breathless energy with which Rarity herself once explained the latest fashions of each Canterlot season to her friends. Rarity looked down at the craters that disfigured the shattered farms outside of Friesland and she saw the work of monsters. And yet, in spite of herself, she could empathize.

How many times had Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes and fallen asleep in the dressing room after Rarity excitedly dragged her into modeling for her? How often did she get into pointless squabbles over Applejack when the farm mare derided her most passionate works as little more than petty wastes of time? And now here she was doing the same thing to a whole city of ponies, if Piaffe was to be believed. Thousands of them must have collectively toiled over the fortifications over a century of effort, and all she could bring herself to do was curl her lip and dismiss it as some sinister mistake.

It was an art, wasn’t it, in its own bloody, horrifying, destructive way? Was the process of creation deserving of respect, even if the end product was a source of such pain?

At length, Rarity let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, Captain. From one artist to another.”

“No apology necessary, love. I’m sure you’ve dealt with the same many times before.”

“Ready!”

Rarity’s eyes shot wide open at the hoarse voice of the sergeant directing the cannon crew behind and above them. She dropped onto her haunches, slapping her hooves tight over her earmuffs and pressing the scratchy wool against her head.

For a few, brief seconds, silence reigned. Rarity caught movement in the distance as a squad of Friesland skirmishers ran into view, baron troopers hot on their heels.

“Fire!”

It was the single loudest thing Rarity had ever heard in her life, louder than she had ever imagined were possible. The blast of the cannon made her hooves sore, pressed against her eyelids no matter how hard she shut them, and made every bone in her body shudder with such violence that for a moment she was stricken with a heart-wrenching fear that her skeleton might simply burst free in panic.

She had no sense of how long it took for the thunder to pass. Her ears will still ringing when she opened her eyes, and there was still a distant rumble racing into the distance like a menacing dragon chasing the horizon. She blinked the blurriness from her eyes just in time to see the blast of the impact. She thanked Celestia that she wasn’t close enough to make out any details among the debris tossed into the air.

A chorus of cheers rose up from the cannon crew, audible even through the stone of the tower and the ringing in Rarity’s ears by the sheer weight of their numbers. With another blink, Rarity realized that she had thrown herself to the ground in her panic, and that Captain Piaffe was stomping her hooves in applause.

“Good shot, loves!” she cheered, raising a hoof in salute to the ponies silhouetted along the top of the tower. “That’s the Friesland way!”

“Load!”

The crew’s cheers faded to an excited chatter as the sergeant’s stern command pushed them into action. Rarity could see the cannon’s smoking barrel being lowered to rest even with the rim of the tower. A pair of thickset mares climbed up with a wooden rod between them, the exertion clear on their soot-stained faces as they jammed a wool sponge into the massive bore.

Pinkie Pie slowly straightened back up, her brow furrowed and her mane having gone limp enough for her helmet to finally fit snugly against her head. “W-what did you need to do that for?”

“They’re invaders, Pinkie,” Piaffe said as Rarity picked herself up off the ground. “They want to take our way of life from us, and they’ll do it by force if we let them. We’re merely defending ourselves. They can leave at any time.”

“Except they don’t want to fight you.” Rarity’s voice was soft and bitter, her eyes fixated on the newest crater. Would Fluttershy be able to save any of the ponies struck by the blast? “This whole ordeal is over the question of one mare paying for the damages that she alone caused!”

“With respect, Countess, this conflict has little to do with the fate of one mare, even one as influential as Duchess Nettlekiss.”

Rarity frowned, but said nothing. Piaffe nodded to herself as she continued.

“Friesland has been at ends with the rest of the island since its founding. We’ve clashed with the barons many times, though thankfully they’ve always been so busy posturing against each other that we never had to deal with more than a few at a time. It’s because they know what we are, you see? Free cities are not common in baronlands, Countess. Inevitably one side will destroy the other, and, well.” Piaffe nodded up towards the Frieslander’s tower, where pairs of cannoneers rushed to roll bundles of powder half as big as they were into place to be rammed into the barrel. “Defenses like these are not built without purpose. In some ways, Friesland has always been under siege, even if the barons weren’t clever enough to realize it.”

“And you’re fine with all that?” Rarity asked, glaring at the other unicorn.

Piaffe shrugged. The confident smile never left her face. “Truthfully, love, philosophy and politics isn’t my place. On the day to day I’m just another soldier defending her home, but the mind does tend to wander when you spend a few years standing on this wall.”

There was the sound of clicking machinery from the Frieslander, and Rarity looked up to see a heavy iron ball raised up to the rim of the tower. Two ponies rolled it into place in front of the lowered barrel, where another duo shoved it inside with grunts of exertion. All four of them climbed down out of sight as the barrel was raised back into the firing position.

“Ready!”

“Say, isn’t that airship flying really low?”

Rarity arched a brow as she followed Pinkie’s extended hoof. A large trade ship was hurtling over the city, angled down towards the ground. A trio of small Friesland patrol boats were advancing on it from all sides attempting to cut it off, but it was clear even from a quick glance that the ship wasn’t attempting any escape.

A pair of winged silhouettes separated from the ship and raced upwards. Rarity stiffened as she recognized the shapes, one large and bulky, the other thin and graceful.

She barely had time to contemplate it before the airship crashed into the city, colliding at full speed with the blocky stone architecture of an old keep. The stones may have once been formidable defenses, but they were old and worn down, and either way were no match for the might of a hundred tons of hard metal. Likewise the ship was not designed to be used as a battering ram, and it fragmented into a dozen pieces on impact, a few large chunks bouncing off and spinning into the surrounding city.

Rarity hissed in pain as a brilliant flash of light flared into being and burned at her eyes, forcing her to lower her head and raise a hoof to protect herself. The sound of the explosion hit her barely a second after, the hot shockwave pushing her back a step with its strength. By the time the light faded enough for her to look up, the screams had already started.

A great plume of smoke was rising up in the middle of the city, pushed upwards in angry, swirling clouds by the hot flames curling up beneath them. Chunks of stone arced through the air, leaving black trails in their wake as they crashed back down onto the city, the sharp cracks of their impact quickly drowned out by the rumble of collapsing architecture.

“Oh my gosh!” Pinkie broke out into a gallop without hesitation, her wheels bouncing along behind her. “Those ponies need our help!”

Captain Piaffe stomped a hoof. “Stop her!”

A trio of the bluecoats on the wall jumped into action at the sharp command. They cut Pinkie off, hemming her in with the rifles at their sides and the sharp horns on their helmets.

“W-what? Why?!” Pinkie turned around with tears in her eyes. “I just want to help, Piaffe! I thought we were friends!”

“Captain Piaffe, we don’t have time for this!” Rarity insisted, stepping forward. “We must render aid as soon as we can!”

Piaffe rounded on her, eyes hard. “You will do no such thing.”

Rarity frowned at the unusual coldness of her tone. “Surely you aren’t suggesting—”

“You’re diplomats of the very armies camped outside our walls, and one of our munitions stockpiles has just been destroyed in a clear act of sabotage,” Piaffe said curtly. “Regardless of my feelings on the matter, I’m responsible for all of you, and you will be escorted back to my home immediately for your own safety. As a lady of fine bearing, I assume you will go peacefully.”

Rarity pursed her lips, meeting Piaffe’s narrowed eyes with confidence. She was confident that no member of her delegation would be involved in such a bloody and heartless act, but she could see there was no point in arguing it here.

“Very well, then,” she said, keeping her voice carefully level. “We will return to our rooms, for now.”

Piaffe nodded. “Good.” She turned to the watching soldiers. “Bring these two to my residence. Nobody is to leave or enter aside from myself and the delegates.”

“Yes, Captain!”

“Well, with that handled—” Piaffe turned so sharply that her ponytail bounced around to her other shoulder. She didn’t look back as she trotted for the nearest stairwell. “Until later, dearhearts! Don’t cause any trouble!”

Rarity watched her go with her legs shaking underneath her. She turned to Pinkie and saw her own shock reflected back at her, but there was nothing either one of them could do. Trying to run would only make things worse.

As the soldiers led Rarity and Pinkie down the narrow stairwell underneath the Frieslander, she found herself wondering if she had just become a prisoner.

Author's Notes:

There's a little bit of artist in all of us. Although when I first began watching the show I found Rarity to be shallow and unlikable, as I became more and more of an author she really grew on me. She's my second favorite pony now—after Rainbow Dash, of course—and I like to think that she could, over time, find an appreciation in any art, whether that be the beauty of a well-made dress or the grim fortitude of an ancient defensive line.

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XI: Of Sacrifice

The room felt even more cramped than usual.

Of course, all of Captain Piaffe’s residence was cramped, but the bedroom that Rarity and Pinkie Pie had been granted normally had a warm, homely feel to it. Now that Rarity had spent the last hour or so pacing restlessly across the small room, however, the walls were beginning to creep in whenever she looked away. Perhaps it was the shadow under the door that marked the presence of the bluecoat standing guard out in the hall. Perhaps every room felt smaller when you were no longer allowed to leave.

Rarity pursed her lips, bringing her mind back to the present. They had been rushed back to Piaffe’s home hours ago in the wake of the explosion, earning several suspicious leers from the Friesland soldiers. Captain Piaffe had barely spared them a word as they were pushed through the streets, but rumor traveled almost as fast as the shockwave of the blast. The barons had sent saboteurs into the city, or they had hired mercenaries from abroad, or they had dug a tunnel under the wall, or it was sympathizers among the Frieslanders themselves, or, or, or.

By the time Piaffe had ushered them over the threshold of her home, all Rarity knew for certain was that a ship had crashed into a munitions depot, destroying one of the city’s granaries and who knew how many lives. The strange, sheltered distance with which the common citizens had regarded the war had been shattered in an instant, and Rarity found herself glancing towards the door every few minutes, her ears twitching at every distant thud, wondering if a squad of bluecoats was going to storm inside and declare her and Pinkie guilty of sabotage.

Piaffe had assured them they’d be safe. They had been at the wall during the act, giving them a solid alibi. The guards stationed outside her home confirmed that Pontius had been at the table downstairs writing a letter to his father, and the younger stallion was now sequestered alone inside the guest room, despite his loud complaints about being separated from his wife. He had kept it up for several minutes, pounding his hooves on the door and demanding to see Rarity, but thankfully he’d settled down before the guards grew annoyed enough to do something about it.

Whitehorn, however, was nowhere to be found. He had left that morning with no details as to his destination, and was yet to return.

Rarity shivered as she thought back to the fire in Piaffe’s eyes, of the sharp flap of her coat around her hooves as she marched out into the street, of the two soldiers that had fallen in behind her and the rhythmic creaking of the harnesses holding their guns at their sides.

“You wait here, dearhearts,” she had said, the playful lilt gone from her voice. “We’ll talk when I get back.”

It was approaching sunset already, and the Captain had not come back.

“Hey, Rares?”

Rarity jumped, looking up to where Pinkie was standing by the open window, one hoof resting on the sill. Her lips were quirked in a concerned frown, an expression that did nothing for the fluttering in Rarity’s breast. “Yes, Pinkie?”

Pinkie tipped her head towards the street. Her mane had lost most of its poof, the curling tip of her bangs drooping low between her glistening blue eyes. “Do you hear this?”

Rarity’s ears turned forwards as she approached the window. The street was bathed in the red of sunset, the light flickering with the distant heat of the fire towards the core of the city, and ponies trotted past with their heads down and their lips set. She glanced west, towards the fire, but couldn’t tell if it had grown or diminished in ferocity since the attack. A thin, acrid smog hung in the air, stinging at her eyes and nose.

A filly stood on a crate next to a stack of thick papers, her little lungs casting her voice over the scene as the stallion beside her waved the broadsheets at whoever would spare him a glance.

“Baron’s launch terror attack against Old Westfort! A hundred deaths and rising, fire spreading through Rampart as Fool Titus marches to enslave us! One bit for Governor Rhea’s official statement and more!”

With a start, Rarity realized that some of the ponies stopping to buy broadsheets were glaring up towards their window, chattering amongst themselves in a resentful hush. She pulled Pinkie away from the window, slamming the panes shut with her hooves.

“Hey!” Pinkie exclaimed.

“I’m afraid it would be best if we keep our heads down, darling, at least for the moment,” Rarity said, eyeing the guard’s shadow under the door. Could she get him to buy a broadsheet for them? Was it worth the risk?

“But we didn’t do anything!”

Rarity’s pacing resumed in earnest. She was glad the carpet kept her hoofsteps from resonating. “No, we didn’t, but ponies don’t always think rationally in times of stress. We should wait for Captain Piaffe to return before getting ourselves involved. She has the respect of the citizens, and she—” Rarity let out a soft gasp, looking to Pinkie and lowering her voice. “Can we trust her?”

Pinkie cocked her head. “Huh?”

“The Captain, darling.” Rarity glanced towards the door as she drew Pinkie in close. “You and her spent a night out on the town, yes? She’s our alibi, but there’s no guarantee that she’d speak for us. What do you think?”

Pinkie gave an adamant shake of her head. “Piaffe isn’t like that, Rarity! She just wants to protect her friends like anypony does!”

Rarity let out a slow breath. “Goodness, that’s a relief. Now if only we knew where Whitehorn was I might actually be able to sit down.”

“You don’t think he did it, do you?” Pinkie asked.

“Heavens, no! He’s a gentlecolt, not a terrorist. I’m merely worried for his well-being.” Rarity bit her lip, thinking of him being caught by a crowd of angry citizens on his own. She tugged at her mane with a hoof, driving the disturbing image from her mind. “Did you see them? Before the crash?”

“You mean Ana and Gava?”

“Hush, dear! Not so loud.” Rarity raised a hoof to Pinkie’s muzzle, glancing back at the shadow under the door. Had it moved? Did the guard mare have her ear to the door? Rarity turned back to her Pinkie, speaking in a quiet whisper. “Familiarity may be mistaken with partnership in times of tension. We should wait until we can all discuss it together before associating ourselves with the perpetrators.”

Pinkie frowned, tugging Rarity’s hoof away with one of her own. She at least had the decency to whisper back. “But they could be getting away right now! And what if they come back to hurt more ponies? We were on the wall, Rare-bear! How could we have helped them steal a ship?”

“Pinkie, you saw how those ponies were looking at us.” Rarity jerked her head at the shut window. A thought occurred to her, and her horn glowed as she pulled the curtains closed, just to be safe. “Suffice to say, darling, they weren’t exactly wondering how to replicate our manestyles. We must tread carefully.”

Pinkie’s looked down as she tapped a hoof against her chin. After a couple seconds she let out a sudden gasp, her lips turning up into a bright smile. “I could talk to them! I’m sure they’ll understand once I get everyone to laugh a little!”

“Pinkie, nobody is going to feel like laughing!” Rarity hissed. “This is not the time!”

Pinkie waggled her eyebrows with a confident smirk before turning for the window. “Pfft! I’m perfectly positive there’s no pack of ponies on the planet that Pinkie Pie, pink party pony prodigy, couldn’t possibly palliate to parley!”

“Pinkie Pie, please, pacify yourself!” Rarity rushed in front of her, holding a hoof to the other mare’s shoulder. “This isn’t Ponyville anymore, darling. I know you mean well, but we can’t keep acting like it is!” She sighed, slumping down onto her haunches and resting her head in her hooves with a weak moan. “Sweet Celestia, I can’t keep acting like it is.”

How many times had she failed now? She’d been unable to defend herself from Duke Titus and helpless in her attempts at negotiation with Governor Rhea, and every day more ponies died. How was she supposed to bring peace to an Equestria that rejected it at every turn?

Rarity stiffened at a solid thud from downstairs, followed by muffled hoofsteps. Another thud was followed by the scraping of moving furniture and soft voices. Rarity turned to Pinkie, gesturing towards the bedroom door and whispering, “Watch the door, please.”

Pinkie gave an emphatic nod, sneaking over to the door with an exaggerated gait that, for whatever reason, seemed to keep her wheels from creaking. Rarity’s horn glowed as she pulled the rug off the ground, rolled it up, and leaned it neatly against a wall before she leaned down and pressed her ear to the tiles.

It was difficult to hear through the stone floor, but after screwing her eyes up and making a few adjustments to her position she found herself able to make out scattered words.

“...too easy going… shouldn’t be… escorts.”

That sounded like Piaffe, speaking in the stern tone of her rank instead of the casual tour guide’s persona she’d presented so far.

The next voice was easy to identify as Whitehorn. Calm, personable.

“...hardly necessary… Countess Rarity?”

Rarity imagined him sitting with his usual cordial posture, his glasses dirtied from the smoke of the fire and his vest rumpled from whatever roughness the soldiers must have put him through. Was there a gun barrel pointed at his head? Manacles holding his hooves down? Rarity’s pulse quickened as she held her breath and pushed her ear further against a crack in the stone, straining to hear more.

“The Countess and her hoofmaiden are none of your concern at the moment. I’ve been lenient, Whitehorn, allowing you to come and go without asking for details. I’ll find out if you’ve betrayed my trust.”

“Captain, I understand that tensions are high. I’m certainly as eager as you are to find justice for this act, but jumping to conclusions is just as likely to ensure they go free as it is to catch them.”

“Let’s cut the doubletalk, Whitehorn.”

“Of course. I’m only trying to help.” Rarity could practically hear the apologetic smile on his face. “I spent the day visiting local printing presses, looking into rates. I can provide a list of establishments if you wish, and I’m sure they’d all corroborate my story.”

“Planning on distributing sheets? Fair warning, love, propaganda against Governor Rhea can be considered treason.”

“I assure you, I have no quarrel with your governor. I see you have my book on your shelf?”

Rarity frowned at that. Whitehorn had written a book? Why hadn’t he ever mentioned it before?

“A riveting read, but we aren’t here to discuss political philosophy over drinks.”

“My apologies, Captain. I like to carry instances of my writing with me, you see, but unfortunately have been unable to replenish my stocks after certain calamities that befell me before coming here. I was simply looking to print a few copies for personal use.”

Her frown deepened. Surely by now he would have shared his writings with her, or mentioned the loss of them after Fellis Island? And couldn’t he have printed more copies at Straterra before they left for Altalusia?

Had she ever actually read anything penned under his name?

She shook herself, refocusing back on her eavesdropping before she missed too much.

“...held in your room while further investigations are made,” Captain Piaffe was saying. “And I will be following up on this list.”

The scraping of chairs and the stomping of hooves reached Rarity’s ear, and with a start she realized that there were ponies ascending the stairs. She threw herself back against the bed, scrambling to return the rug to its proper place with a flick of her horn.

Pinkie arched a brow, leaning in to whisper, “What’d you hear?”

“I’ll tell you later, Pinkie,” Rarity whispered back, brow furrowing as she fussed with the rug. “Does this rug look right? Perhaps over here?”

“It looks fine to me! You’re better at this kinda thing than I am anyways.”

“Yes, darling, but I don’t need to satisfy us!” The hooves were in the hall now. Was that two sets, or three? The shadow under the door shifted as the guard outside snapped to attention. “I need to satisfy them!”

Pinkie cocked her head, her lips scrunched up in confusion. “I dunno, Rares, I think you might find your interior decoration career more fulfilling if you focused on what you want to do instead of pleasing crowds and critics.”

“Ugh!”

There wasn’t time to get it perfect, and she couldn’t exactly remember how the rug had been arranged anyways. She could hear the door across the hall, the guest room where Pontius and Whitehorn slept, opening and closing, and hooves shuffling about outside. With one last push of magic she flattened the rug against the floor and tugged the wrinkles out of her dress.

It was only when the door began to open that Rarity realized her mane still looked as if it had been pressed up against the floor.

“Sorry I took so long, dearhearts.” Piaffe stepped into the room with a calm smile, her voice soft and warm. She blinked, eyes widening as she focused on Rarity. “By the wall, Countess, are you well?”

Rarity smiled sheepishly as she levitated a brush to her mane. She decided to embrace her breathless nerves instead of trying to hide them. “I’ll survive, Captain, even if this dreadful stress and arid air takes its toll on my mane. I hope things are well in the city?”

“As well as they can be, I’m afraid.” Piaffe sighed, closing the door shut behind her. The shadow of the guard outside was nowhere to be seen. “The fire’s contained, for now, and relief efforts are underway. We found Whitehorn as well.” She paused, looking up expectantly.

“Oh, Celestia!” Rarity raised a hoof to her forehead and feigned a fall against the bed frame. She saw Pinkie suppressing a giggle out of the corner of her eye, but Piaffe didn’t seem to notice. “We were so worried! Is he hurt?”

“Just a few scratches, luckily,” Piaffe said, watching as Pinkie stepped over to help Rarity back to her hooves. “We would’ve found him quicker if you’d told us where he went.”

Rarity looked up to Piaffe with wide eyes, fanning at her face with a hoof. “I beg your pardon, Captain, but he doesn’t normally keep us abreast of his every move. I do so hope he hasn’t gotten himself caught up in anything dangerous.”

“That’s yet to be seen, Countess.” Piaffe’s eyes performed a quick scan of the room, causing Rarity’s heart to skip a beat. “For now, however, you should both remain here, for your own safety. I can bring you some food, if you wish.”

“Oh, that would be simply divine, but I don’t think I could stomach a meal while there’s so many ponies in danger.” Rarity breathed a heavy sigh. “Is there anything we could do to help? It would go a long way toward easing my mind.”

Piaffe arched a brow. “You should stay here, love. You could barely even stand when I walked in, and now you intend to go play hero?”

“I was merely overcome with relief, Captain. I know it may seem otherwise at times, but I am a mare of action, and there is little more harmful to my composure than being cooped up inside while those I care about may be trapped in a blazing inferno.” Rarity looked up to meet the other mare’s eyes, taking a deep breath and straightening her stance. “I would remind you that my hoofmaiden and I are powerful Gifted. We could do much to aid the relief efforts.” She paused, tossing her disheveled mane and fluttering her eyes. “Perhaps you could provide escort?”

Piaffe hardened her gaze, turning away and causing her coat to flutter about behind her. “Not until we finish our investigation.”

Rarity blinked, watching open-mouthed as Piaffe opened the door. “Wha—Captain—”

“I’ll bring you some dinner.” Piaffe didn’t even look back.

So that’s it, then? Rarity wondered. The door would close, and she would have failed yet again. Charm, manners, courtesy; none of it seemed capable of getting her into a position to help the ponies of Altalusia. All of her skills were worthless.

But no, there was another side to her. It was not behavior proper for a lady, but as Rarity’s brow furrowed into an ugly crease and her lips pulled back into a shivering snarl, she found that she was getting rather tired of having others tell her when she could and couldn’t help.

“Do not walk away from me!”

Rarity’s horn burst into light, the telltale blue sparkling of her magic wrapping around Piaffe’s coat and tugging the mare roughly back into the room. The Captain yelped in alarm as the magic twisted her back to face Rarity and slammed the door behind her.

“I am trying to help, darling!” Rarity snapped. “I understand you have your suspicions, I truly do, but there are ponies in pain out there and we have done nothing to indicate anything but the best intentions for all ponies involved in this mess!”

Piaffe blinked. One of her hooves reached for something under her coat, but was wrenched back into place by the magic tight around her outfit.

“Why are all you ponies constantly so caught up in your little petty rivalries?! I have been nothing but courteous and polite in the face of your lecherous behavior, cordial in spite of your governor’s callous dismissal of my attempts at peace, and respectful of your every request, and yet you think to lock me away in this room like some—some renegade saboteur! Pinkie and I have barely left your sight since we walked through your gatehouse, Captain! I don’t even care if you want to keep a gun trained on me the whole time, but with Celestia as my witness, I am going to help somepony in this wretched world if it kills me!”

Her breath came out in a heated snort. With a slight start she noticed that the door had been opened again during her tirade, and a bluecoat stallion was standing in the threshold, his eyes uncertain and the trigger string of his rifle between his teeth.

Rarity’s eyes widened ever so slightly as she saw the gun barrel pointed in her direction. A part of her immediately regretted her last statement.

Piaffe coughed, raising a hoof to the soldier. “Down, Ensign. I have this handled, thank you.”

The stallion arched a brow. “You’re sure, Captain?”

“Yes, just a minor diplomatic dispute with the delegates,” Piaffe said, straining to speak past the tightness of her uniform. “I’ll call if you’re needed.”

Pinkie waved a hoof as the soldier hesitated. “Hiya! Don’t worry, Rarity isn’t gonna hurt anypony! We’re just here to help!”

With an uncertain nod, the stallion dropped his trigger string and stepped outside, slowly closing the door behind him.

After a few seconds, Piaffe spoke. “Excuse me, dearheart, but could you slacken up about the neck a tad?”

“O-oh! My apologies. That wasn’t very appropriate behavior.” Rarity gently set Piaffe’s hooves back onto the floor, straightening the other mare’s coat out with her magic.

“It’s fine, Countess, though I’d caution you about doing that around any of the more veteran troops.” Piaffe blew a relieved breath out through her mouth, shaking her head. “I believe perhaps I can empathize with your position.”

Rarity leaned in. “So… you’ll reconsider, then?”

Piaffe sighed. “Yes, yes. I shall escort you to the relief site, for the citizens’ sake. Just you,” she added, turning to where Pinkie was clapping her hooves together with an eager grin.

Pinkie’s face fell. “Aww.”

“I’m taking a risk here, you understand, but—” Piaffe shrugged, meeting Rarity’s gaze once more. “My instincts tell me that you mean well. Be a dear and don’t prove me wrong, or I’ll have to send the rest of your delegation to the dungeons.”

Rarity grimaced, glancing towards Pinkie. The bouncy mare gave her an exaggerated nod and wink. “I understand. Thank you.”

“Exquisite. In that case—” Piaffe gestured towards the door with a flourish “—let us depart immediately.”

It was a short walk out into the street, and Piaffe’s epaulette-decorated blue coat parted the leering crowds like sharpened scissors on fine cloth as they broke out into a steady canter. Rarity had opted to put her mussed up mane into a makeshift bun rather than waste time straightening it. As much as it pained her, there were ponies in danger, and she was finally being allowed to help.

The sun had dipped down below the island line now, and the brilliant red it painted over the clouds was beginning to give way to the flickering yellows and oranges of the fires. Glancing back, Rarity saw an airship floating high to the east, roughly over where she estimated the baron’s siege camps to be. She gasped as it dropped a flickering ball of flame which plummeted through the sky like a miniature meteor before dipping out of sight behind the wall.

“What are they doing?!” she cried, pulling up to Piaffe’s side. “Those airships!”

“It’s called retaliation, love,” Piaffe said. She kept her eyes forward, not even out of breath from the quick pace. “Or did you think we’d take this lying down? Governor Rhea would be a fool to let the barons strike at us like this without some kind of counterattack, and she doesn’t take kindly to the deaths of civilians.”

“Wh—but it isn’t just soldiers in those camps!” Rarity said breathlessly. They turned a corner, allowing Rarity to get a clearer sight of the airship angling away from the burning silhouettes of giant arrows zipping up around it. “I have a friend in there! She’s just a healer!”

“The barons should’ve considered that before they destroyed a fort so old it served more as a landmark than an actual military facility,” Piaffe growled. “There were only a few militiaponies stationed there, but the fire threatened the whole district!”

Rarity couldn’t come up with a real argument for that, and either way she was having trouble keeping her breath as it was. Fluttershy isn’t as helpless as she acts, she assured herself. She’ll be fine.

Or, more likely, she would be rushing to help the wounded. And she may not have anyone to hold her back until the bombing stopped.

The thin layer of smoke in the air stung at her eyes, and Rarity squeezed them shut as she tried to focus on the aching stitch in her chest instead. Stressing over Fluttershy wasn’t going to do anything but impair her efforts to help the ponies she could reach.

Finally, Piaffe began to slow. Rarity sucked in a deep breath as she stumbled to a stop beside the Captain and took in her surroundings.

She had never seen the old fort up close when it still stood, but the shape of the foundation was still apparent in spite of the damage done. The fort’s towers had all collapsed into long lines of rubble two or three times taller than the ponies climbing over them in search of those trapped underneath, and even those parts of the plaza surrounding the fort not blocked off by rubble were pockmarked by loose stones heavy enough to seriously injure anyone they struck. The surrounding buildings, mostly stone, were stained black from the fires that had consumed anything flammable inside them, their tops open to the sky like mouths gaping in shock.

At the center of it all, almost hidden behind the surviving foundations of the fort, was a deep crater with the wreck of an airship half-buried inside. Most of the ship had been scattered around the plaza with the force of the explosion, several of the sharp metal pieces visible embedded in surrounding buildings or even in the street itself, but the prow was still stuck in the center. A few ponies were clambering over the tilted surface, prying at the half-melted door of a cabin with a crowbar.

Rarity’s eyes were fixated on the charred bodies organized into a neat pile like discarded spools of thread, their coats the same ashen black as the teeth visible in their silently screaming muzzles. Moans of pain drifted from a large, burnt out building just beside the pile, and she watched as an exhausted earth mare dragged a stretcher with a deathly still pony towards it. She tipped the stretcher over, dumping the body on the pile with a sound like autumn leaves crunching underhoof. It had been a pegasus once, but now only a pair of red-black stumps poked from its back.

There was a stench in the air. Rarity had never smelled anything like it before, but it was easy for her to make the connection to the bodies. She doubled over with a grunt, mixing her bile in with the ash coating the cobbles.

Piaffe gave Rarity a sympathetic pat on the back as she wiped her mouth with a handkerchief. “You see what we’re fighting for now, Countess?” she asked softly. “This is why we build our walls.”

Rarity wasn’t sure if she was shaking with fury, pity, or guilt. Anatami’s cocky grin was stuck in her head, mocking her with its predator’s smile. How could she have put her soul into making a dress for a being that would commit such an act? How could she have ever trusted such a monster?

Never again, she resolved. If she was ever unlucky enough to cross paths with the thestral again, she wouldn’t make the same mistake.

“Are you sure you’re up for it, love?” Piaffe asked. “We can head back if it’s too much.”

“N-no, it’s—I’ll manage, thank you.” Rarity straightened up, setting her jaw. “I’ll—I’ll help tend to the wounded.”

Piaffe nodded. “A noble goal. We’ll each do our part.”

Rarity led the way, weaving around the loose rubble and stepping into the stone skeleton of the field hospital. The smell was even stronger here, threatening to overwhelm her, but she would not back down.

A new voice reached her ears. It was a mare’s voice, rough with the accent of the baronlands. “Countess Rarity? Sun ’n sky, is that ye?”

Rarity turned to see a soft pink earth mare approaching her with awe in her eyes, her mane tied up in a high ponytail, her cheeks marred with ash, and her white apron stained with the dark red of dried blood. For a moment, Rarity didn’t recognize her, but then a name jumped to the front of her mind in a flash of memory.

“River Pie,” she breathed, brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

Piaffe was eyeing the skinny mare with undisguised suspicion. “You know this baronlander, Countess?”

Rarity gave a slow nod. “Indeed I do. She and five others attempted to capture me for ransom out in the countryside.”

Piaffe straightened up, reaching into her coat and retrieving a pair of iron manacles. River flinched back at the sound, and several other ponies stole quick glances towards the trio before focusing back on their work. “I shall have her taken to Old Westfort at once.” Piaffe stiffened, glancing out one of the empty windows towards the crash site. “Or, well, I suppose the Rampart Post shall suffice for now.”

“Let’s not be too hasty, Captain,” Rarity said, placing a soft hoof on Piaffe’s shoulder. “I later made a great sacrifice for this mare and her companions, and she’s the only one that didn’t spit in my face for it. Last I recall, however, they were still in the Duke’s dungeon.”

River kept her eyes down, one hoof rubbing anxiously over the other. “Th’ Duke set us free after yer weddin’, Countess.”

Rarity frowned. “I was never told of this.”

“I tried t’ speak with ye,” River said to Rarity’s hooves. “Th’ guards wouldn’t allow me past th’ gate, ’n they kept tellin’ me ye were busy in yer rooms, ’n after th’ first night they started threatenin’ me, so—” she grimaced, shaking her head. “I figured ye were right t’ hate me.”

Rarity raised her hoof to her lips as a soft gasp escaped her. The days following her wedding had since blurred together into a broken mess of self-pity with only a few brief glimpses of lucidity. She knew she had turned callers away from her door many times, everything from servants delivering meals to her friends asking after her well-being. How many times had she rejected River’s requests for an audience without realizing, so caught up in her wallowing that she couldn’t even spare the time to speak to one of the ponies she had sacrificed so greatly for?

“I don’t hate you, River.” She sighed, pursing her lips. “Well, perhaps I did hate you at the time, but I wasn’t quite… in my best mind at the time. I just felt so stupid, so—ugh!” River cringed backwards at the outburst, drawing a grimace from Rarity. “I’m sorry, darling. I’ve just been so stressed lately, and… confused.”

She fell silent, and for a few seconds neither mare said anything. Piaffe raised the manacles again. “Shall I arrest her, dearheart?”

River bowed her head at the question, dipping into a low bow. “Aye, ye should, Captain. Me and mine wronged th’ Countess fer th’ sake of our greed, and we never deserved her.” She paused, taking a deep breath and straightening up to face Piaffe directly. “But I’ve tried my best t’ live up t’ her gift. I work honest labor here in Friesland now, ’n give what time I can t’ th’ service of my fellow pony. If’n ye see fit t’ judge me here, I won’t stop ye.”

Rarity’s eyes widened, her lips parting as a strange fluttering stirred in her core. “I… don’t believe any further punishment is warranted here, Captain. River Pie has already been sentenced for her crimes, and it’s clear to me that she’s seen the error of her ways.”

Piaffe shrugged, stowing her manacles once more. “That’s a relief. It’s more than a stroll to Rampart Post.”

Rarity raised a hoof to River Pie’s shoulder. “Face me, Miss Pie. I’d rather prefer to speak to you eye to eye if it can be helped.”

River stiffened at Rarity’s touch, but complied. Still, her eyes darted from side to side like flighty birds, never staying on Rarity’s face for long. “Thank ye fer yer mercy, my Lady.”

Rarity brought her hoof to River’s chin, guiding the mare’s gaze until it steadied into her own. She offered up a tentative smile. “Would you like to help me make the world a better place, Miss Pie?”

For a long, silent moment, Rarity’s world focused in on the other mare, this one mare whom she had sacrificed so much for in the spirit of harmony. It hadn’t felt like a choice at the time, but the shadow of the decision had haunted her ever since.

But now, at last, Rarity had a sign. A sign that her efforts weren’t for naught. In that moment she knew, if she had truly influenced just this one mare to embrace the forgotten ways of harmony, she might sleep easy again.

At last, River gave a firm nod. “Aye, my Lady. I dunno if I can, but I’ll do everythin’ in my power t’ be worthy of yer gift.”

Rarity released a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she was holding as she blinked the wetness out of the corners of her eyes. The uncertainty haunting her faded into memory, giving way to the warmth that pulled her cheeks up into a wide smile.

“You’ve already done enough, darling.”

I made the right decision. It was worth it.

River shot a nervous glance towards Piaffe with a hesitant smile of her own. “Shall we get t’ it, then?”

Rarity shook her head, wiping the tears away from her eyes. “Yes, of course. Where are we needed?”

River waved a hoof around the field hospital. There were over two dozen ponies splayed out on bedrolls, hay stacks, and rag piles. “Everywhere, Countess.”

“We can handle it, Miss Pie, together.” Rarity took a deep breath as she scanned the rows of wounded. There were a few other ponies helping with the healing, but they were clearly overworked. “We’ll just take it one pony at a time.”

Twilight had thought that she understood nightmares.

How many had she been through now? She’d trudged through the broken bones of her home and read the last words of a desperate mare, traversed the literal nightmare realm of an old soldier and a slumbering alicorn, dug through the rubble of a sinking city searching for the bodies of her best friends, and lived through the torment of a malicious entity that sought to twist her mind to match its own image. She’d spent days in the ruins of Canterlot, watching her own body mutate to match the form of the monsters she hid from and witnessing the final result of the transformation in one of her closest friends.

But even she, it seemed, still hadn’t seen it all.

Country mare’s first time in the big city? Midnight asked from atop a pile of bones twice as tall as she was.

Just as much for you as for me, Twilight grumbled.

Midnight snorted. She leaned back with a wistful sigh. Breathtaking, isn’t it?

Stalliongrad had been a city with hundreds of thousands of ponies within its limits, and it showed. The imposing concrete blocks of its buildings had acted like giant drain grates during the floods, catching the bodies of the drowned in their shattered windows and narrow alleys. Looking up, Twilight could see the bony limbs of hundreds of bodies protruding from the cracked building faces like wildflowers, swaying with the gentle ministrations of the ocean current.

But… Canterlot wasn’t like this. She watched as a seapony swam up to the tallest surviving floor and tugged on one of the grisly weeds, snapping it free before disappearing with its treat ensnared between its fangs. Canterlot’s population was almost half as large, and there weren’t nearly as many bodies.

A mystery for the ages, little flower, Midnight mused. I’d prefer if we focused on the mystery of our next meal.

Twilight pursed her lips, turning to the apparition with a sharp frown. It can wait!

For the moment, yes. But you can’t truly expect to parade me through such a plentiful buffet without accepting a few distractions.

There were hundreds of seaponies in Stalliongrad, and other creatures besides. Everywhere Twilight looked she caught glimpses of mutated ponies swimming through the sea, twisted dogs burrowing into the sand, and flocks of small birds swarming through the streets, their beaks rimmed with fangs that were almost comically large compared to their bodies.

It can wait, Twilight repeated, ignoring the way Midnight’s smirk hovered in the back of her mind. It knew she was just stalling. She was loath to kill an innocent creature, even a monster like a seapony, but they both knew she would have to eventually. She was a predator now, whether she liked it or not.

She tried not to think about the fact that they all seemed to be avoiding her. She didn’t like the way that Midnight would cackle in her ear everytime a seapony caught sight of her and sped away.

The thoughtful frown on her face faded as she turned a corner, bringing Stallion’s Palace back into view. She could’ve easily teleported past all the tightly condensed city blocks to save time, but she had opted instead to travel on hoof, taking in the image of Stalliongrad from ground level through the soft glow of her shield, and so it had taken her a couple hours to find her way here.

The Palace was huge, towering over the surrounding buildings so high that Twilight had to sit down and crane her neck to see the massive statue of three rearing ponies on the top, one of each tribe. The central tower jutted out from atop a half dozen lower tiers, each one a wider circle than the one above it and displaying proud rows of thick columns, and the whole building was raised off the ground by a massive slab of concrete accessible only by a long flight of dozens of steps. It had been a marvel of Equestrian architecture at the time of its construction, and the fact that it still stood after everything that happened sent Twilight’s mind racing with questions.

If only she had been able to see it before it was surrounded by bodies at the bottom of an ocean.

She trotted forwards, grimacing at the skeletons that clung to the palace’s stairs and wrapped around its many columns and being cautious to avoid stepping on any bodies. The corpses here were different from those in the rest of the city; many of them wore armor, either rusting plates haphazardly strapped onto the body or the carefully curved outfits of the Royal Guard, and signs of violent death were commonplace. Many of these ponies hadn’t been crushed by rushing waves or slammed against unyielding buildings, but had instead had their skulls caved in by powerful bucks or their bones chipped and scraped by sharp weapons.

Whatever they might have fought over, their bodies had all collected in the same piles in the end.

Ooh, I like that one, Midnight said. A delicious thought.

Twilight rolled her eyes as she started up the steps. A trio of seaponies that had been scrapping over a body at the top scattered as she approached.

What’s your plan here, little flower? Midnight asked. It’s quite a large building to search on hoof, and we only agreed on a day-long detour.

Instead of answering, Twilight poured a burst of magic into her horn. She cast a series of powerful, focused pings, piercing the imposing facade of the Palace in an even pattern. She cocked her head as her attention was drawn downwards, to a large block of magically reinforced steel, set deep in the foundation and almost as wide.

That feels like a vault, Twilight thought. If anything survived the floods, it’ll be down there.

Mm, there’s an idea. Midnight draped a chilling hoof over Twilight’s shoulder, whispering into her ear. Do you think there’s any survivors?

Twilight’s heart fluttered at the idea. Could it be possible for ponies to have survived down here all this time, their whole world condensed to a miniscule steel stable? Perhaps if it had been built with such a purpose in mind, with farms and recycling equipment and a sustainable source of power, but why would anypony have thought to prepare for such a terrible calamity?

No, most likely the vault was made for short-term storage, or as a bunker to wait out shorter disasters, more on the timespan of weeks or months than centuries. Most likely she wouldn’t find anything there but more bodies, and whatever the bodies had brought with them.

But there was still that chance, wasn’t there?

Would they even see her as a pony? Would they even be aware of the horrifying nightmares swimming only a short teleport away? For all she knew, any survivors could have regressed into stunted tribal societies, scrabbling over the limited regenerating resources of their artificial home with no knowledge of the world beyond.

For all she knew, they could hail her as a goddess.

That’d be nice.

Twilight gave a slight shake of her head. She closed her eyes, forming the teleport spell in her mind, and vanished in a flash of magic.

Rainbow Dash woke with a start.

She was in her soft bed of clouds aboard the Argo, wrapped in its warm embrace. The image of Gava standing over her, framed in red, lingered in her mind for only a moment before she blinked it away, replacing it with the dimness of her bedroom. The scratchy scream in her ears gave way to the steady tick of the hull and the low drone of the propellers.

She was safe. There was no Gava hunting her aboard the Argo. She rolled over with an irritated grunt and fluffed the cloud up beneath her with a shuffle of her wings before squeezing her eye tightly shut.

Minutes passed. She didn’t fall asleep.

Rainbow fluttered out of the bed with a groan. Sleep had developed a habit of evading her lately, but she was never one to surrender easily. A few laps around the ship should wear her out, and then she’d try again.

She floated out of her room with a soft flap of her wings, angling herself into a lazy circle. The makeshift sleeping quarters that’d been assembled in the cargo hold didn’t have any tops, so she could see the dim outline of Applejack sleeping soundly under her sheets. Princess Luna’s dark form was harder to make out, but if she squinted Rainbow could spot the gentle motion of the peaceful alicorn’s breathing.

Rainbow glided down towards the door, prompting it to open with a short burst of steam. The cargo hold had been dimmed for the night, but the hall lights remained at full strength. She wasted only a few moments stretching her wings out before picking a direction and pumping her wings.

The wind tugged her mane back around her ears, drawing a grin from her and pushing the dark memories to the back of her mind. Here, there were no griffons hanging over her with bloody smirks, or green-coated soldiers falling in flashes of red as fire blazed all around her, or old friends battling the dark magic occupying their minds. There were only her wings, and the wind, and the mental stopwatch urging her forwards.

She passed by the cargo hold in a prismatic blur. Twenty-three seconds. Not an impressive time for a straightaway, but the curve and enclosed space limited her speed. Still, she could do better.

The ship’s layout was simple enough. An elongated oval-shaped hallway surrounded the submarine dock on the lower deck, with thin tin doors running along the outer side that led to the various quarters, workshops, and storage rooms. The door to the cargo hold was the aft end of the loop, and a small observation deck on the forward side doubled as a rec room.

The next lap only took her twenty-one seconds. She knew she could get her time down, but there were ponies sleeping soundly all around her. If she wanted to go faster, to lose herself in the burn of her muscles, she would have to go outside. Opening either of the hatches on the lower level might wake somepony, but there was a hatch on the upper level further away from any bedrooms.

She hovered up the stairs at a quick pace, eager to feel the crisp ocean air between her feathers, and noticed with a small frown that the door to Dusty Tome’s shipboard clinic was hanging open. Huh.

She flew closer, nose crinkling at the strange smell hanging in the air. It was heavy, with a metallic tint to it, and Rainbow’s pulse quickened as she recognized the scent of blood. Probably just someone hurt themselves and getting patched up, she assured herself. Nothing to freak out over.

“Hey, Dusty.” She kept her voice low as she reached the door; Sea Sabre’s room was just a few steps down the hall. “Hello?”

The prodding joke about eggheads and sleep schedules on Rainbow’s mind died in her throat as she turned the corner to see Dusty Tome sprawled out on his back next to the clinic’s bed, his eyes wide in unblinking terror. His old brown jacket was stained a deep red by the trail of blood dripping from the ragged gash in his neck, and she could see glimpses of his exposed guts glistening in the harsh light of the airship through the tears in his belly.

A flood of adrenaline rushed through Rainbow’s veins. She dropped lightly to the floor to keep her wings free, flaring them wide and suddenly missing the comforting weight of her wingblades, and scanned the room. Aside from the slowly growing puddle around Dusty’s body, most of the room was clean of blood, and surprisingly orderly for the site of a recent murder.

A murder.

The Argo wasn’t safe.

She backed out of the room until her tail hit the opposite side of the wall, head darting from side to side. The hall was just as empty as it had been before.

She needed to raise the alarm, but what if whatever had killed Dusty was still around? What if Gava was on the ship? She looked to the right, and the ticking of the hull turned into the clicking of a revolver's hammer being pulled back behind her. She spun around, taking to the air, only to see more empty hallway.

“Calm down, Dash,” she breathed, backing towards the control room with her eye fixed on the stairs. “What’ve you got to panic about, huh? You’re the most awesome thing on this ship. You should be happy if Gava’s around, yeah.” Rainbow stole a glance behind her. “You had her last time. She’s nothing.”

A heart-wrenching thunk shook the hull, and Rainbow had to bite her lip to keep herself from crying out. With the sound of grinding metal, the ship fell silent.

No steady ticking. No propeller drone.

The lights dimmed to nothingness. Only the pale beams of moonlight shining through the portholes that lined the hall remained.

Gava’s grinning, bloodstained beak lingered in Rainbow’s mind.

The click of a door opening behind her struck Rainbow like a bolt of lightning, and she twisted around with a shout before pouncing for the winged shadow that had appeared before her. It ducked the blow, hooves catching Rainbow in the gut and throwing her to the ground.

“Stand down, Rainbow!” Sea Sabre hissed. “What’s going on?”

After a few seconds of stunned confusion, Rainbow’s mind finally caught up with the question. She pointed a hoof. “H-he’s dead.”

Sabre’s eyes shot wide open. She whirled, stepping up to the open door to the clinic. Moonlight played against her face as she peered inside, giving Rainbow a clear sight of the way her lip twisted back and her brow furrowed down into a hard vee. “Who?”

“I don’t know.” Rainbow stood up, suddenly acutely aware of how loud her hooves were against the metal floor. “I just found him, and then—” she gestured with a hoof “—everything’s quiet.”

Sabre’s jaw clenched, her lips twitching as she took a deep breath. Another breath, and the shaking of her body drew still. She turned, wings half-flared, and fixed Rainbow with a gaze of such intensity that it was all she could do but stare back in open-mouthed shock.

“Wait here.”

Sabre breezed past her without waiting for an answer, disappearing into the shadow of her room. She emerged a few seconds later with one blade fastened on her right wing before dropping the other at Rainbow’s hooves.

“Put this on.”

Rainbow blinked, looking down at the perfectly polished steel catching the moonlight below her. Sabre never let another pony handle her equipment. Even Flintlock treated her gear with a quiet reverence. “Sabre—”

“Now.”

The mare’s voice was nearly as sharp as the blade. Rainbow bent down, strapping the weapon to her left wing in a rush.

Sabre leaned in, biting one of the straps around Rainbow’s wing and pulling hard until the blade fell snug against her feathers. She spat the strap out with a curt nod before trotting towards the control room without a word.

Rainbow followed with a grimace, glancing behind her as their hoofsteps echoed into the darkness lingering at the top of the stairs. The hull groaned around them, sending a shiver down her spine. When they reached the control room door, Sabre unfurled her left wing to reveal the crowbar she’d tucked underneath.

“Cover me.”

Rainbow nodded, but Sabre had already turned away and set the crowbar’s teeth into the metal door. A grunt of exertion escaped her as the door slowly began to give.

With a shrill screech that nearly made Rainbow’s heart stop, one side of the door slid open far enough for a pony to slide through. Sabre glanced back and beckoned with a wing before tucking the crowbar against her side again and squeezing through.

The wide window at the front of the control room provided an ample supply of pale starlight, painting the room in a dim midnight blue that was a welcome relief from the dark shadows of the hall outside. Rainbow stepped to the side once she entered, putting her back to the wall while Sabre trotted down to the control dias.

“Sabre, what’s going on?” Rainbow whispered. “What happened to the ship?”

“Relic engine’s down,” Sabre said as she stepped onto the dias. “Intruder must’ve stolen the power source.”

“What? Relic?” There was the sound of shifting metal, and Rainbow’s eyes snapped back to the half-open door. Nothing moved.

“The Argo runs off old Equestrian magic. No relic, no power.” Sabre tugged at a long lever with both hooves, and Rainbow’s ears twitched at the staccato clicking of the mechanism. “We can talk more once the ship’s clear.”

With a soft, barely audible buzz, a dull red light flickered on above the door. Rainbow jumped back as the door suddenly slammed shut. “Whoa!”

“Reserve steam will keep the doors working, for now,” Sabre said, trotting up from the lower level. “Where’s Applejack?”

Rainbow nodded. “She was sleeping in the cargo hold a few minutes ago.”

“Good. Let’s find the others.”

The hiss of the door opening felt far louder without the ship’s usual ambience, and it slid open with a series of halting, sluggish jerks that made Rainbow think of a wounded pony dragging herself to safety. A line of dim red lights was set into the top of the hall on the other side, spaced between the moonlit windows and painting the metal in an alternating pattern of dull red and pale blue.

“You lead. Bottom of the stairs,” Sabre said. “I’ll watch our six.”

“Right.” Rainbow stepped forward with a gulp, testing the weight of the blade on her left wing as she went. Distant hoofsteps echoed towards them from the far side of the hall, and for a moment Rainbow thought she could even hear them above and below her.

A shadow poked up at the end of the hall.

“W-who’s there?!” Rainbow called. She crouched low, straining to make out details in the low light. Were those wingtips raised up behind it? What could she do if it started shooting?

“Rainbow? Y’alright?” Rainbow let out a relieved sigh as Applejack’s voice reached her. “There was a thunk like Tartarus a bit ago, ’n all the lights went out. The hay’s goin’ on, gal?”

“Someone’s on the ship,” Rainbow explained as they met at the top of the stairs. She reached out and pulled Applejack into a tight hug, careful to keep her wingblade at a safe distance. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Whoa. Uh, alright then.” Applejack let out a soft chuckle as she rubbed a hoof between Rainbow’s wings. “What’s got y’all, RD? Somepony up ’n die?”

Rainbow stiffened, pulling back to look Applejack in the eyes. The cowpony’s nervous grin fell from her face, eyes widening.

More hoofsteps drifted from the shadows at the bottom of the steps. Rainbow put herself between Applejack and the approaching noise, relaxing as she caught sight of Star Trails and Flintlock. Trails came first, the faint blue glow of her magic wrapped around her javelin floating beside her. Flint was scanning the hall behind them with his eyes narrowed. HIs shotgun was strapped to his side, a string running from the trigger to a collar around his neck.

Sea Sabre cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “Where’s Sunfeather?”

“She wasn’t in ’er room,” Flint said. “Didn’t see Dusty either.”

“What’s up with the power?” Trails asked. “I’ve never seen a relic engine just give out like this.”

“Dusty Tome is dead.” Sabre’s voice was steady, but the fire in her eyes hadn’t lost any of its edge. “An intruder sabotaged the engine.”

The silence rushed back into place as Sabre’s words hung in the air. Trails gaped up at her, her hind legs giving out and allowing her flank to plop against the floor, while Applejack took her hat off with a grimace and glanced into the darkness around her.

Flint let out a low growl. “Orders?”

Sabre nodded. “We’ll mourn later. For now, we need to locate Sunfeather and find the intruder before they accomplish their objectives. We keep to groups of two or more. Is the Princess safe?”

Applejack blinked as she realized the question was addressed to her. “I, uh, ain’t checked.”

“Flint, take Applejack and safeguard the Princess. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Aye, boss. C’mon then, Jackie.”

The cargo hold door groaned in complaint as the reserve steam dragged it half open, giving enough room for Flintlock to lead Applejack through. Sea Sabre placed a hoof on the door, holding it open as she turned to face Trails and Rainbow.

“Sunfeather probably went down to the engine herself to investigate the malfunction,” she said. “You two, find her and then meet us back here. She’s top priority, then retrieving the relic, and only then catching the intruder. Don’t run off alone.” She spoke the last words directly to Rainbow. “Star Trails is in charge. Don’t let me down, Rainbow Dash.” She glanced back to Trails. “Understood?”

Trails gave a curt nod. “Got it.”

“You can count on us,” Rainbow added.

“I know I can.”

Sabre turned away and disappeared into the shadows of the cargo hold, leaving the two mares alone with the weak steam of the closing door.

Trails shot a brief, sideways glance at Rainbow and beckoned with her head. “C’mon. Watch my back, okay?”

“Right.”

Rainbow couldn’t help but grimace as she followed the unicorn down the hall towards the observation room, keeping her eye trained on the shadows behind them. The image of Trails flinching beneath her, raising her hooves to protect her face, was still fresh in her mind, and now Rainbow was following her into the bowels of the ship searching for whoever had killed Dusty.

What had been a twenty-second flight took far longer at this pace, giving Rainbow ample time to imagine griffons hiding in every shadow and jump at every distant creak or burst of steam. Rainbow glanced ahead and caught Trails quickly looking away, her ears swiveling forwards.

It occurred to her that she should say something before they ended up in a life-or-death situation with only each other to count on.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

Rainbow sighed. Here goes. “I’m sorry. About, uh, y’know.” She offered up an awkward chuckle as Trails looked back, only to cut it off with a frustrated grunt. Not good enough! “I’m sorry about losing my cool with you.”

After a long moment, Trails nodded and turned her attention forwards once again. “It’s fine, Dash. I know it was a rough situation, and I don’t blame you for getting upset. Thanks for apologizing.” A few seconds passed. “I’m sorry for avoiding you these past couple days.”

“Heh, yeah.” Rainbow broke out into a relieved grin. “That was kinda awkward back in the cargo hold yesterday.”

Trails stopped so abruptly that Rainbow nearly bumped into her. She turned fully, a frown on her face. “Yesterday?”

“Yeah?” Rainbow arched a brow. “Y’know, when you came into the cargo hold and kinda froze up?” She smirked, laying a comforting hoof on Trails’ shoulder. “Hey, it’s no big deal, right? Things were still pretty weird, and I don’t blame you.”

Trails cocked her head. “Dash… I haven’t seen you since our fight.”

Rainbow blinked. “But AJ was there, too. She saw you!“

“Dash, whoever you spoke to? That wasn’t me.”

A cold chill ran down Rainbow’s back, sending a shiver through her body. She twisted around, wings fluttering her into a low hover, and peered into the dark hall behind her.

The silence was really starting to get to her.

Trails spoke up uncertainly. “Hey, you okay?”

“Shush!” Rainbow snapped. “I’m thinking.”

The awkward, silent Star Trails she had spoken to a couple days ago wasn’t Star Trails. Applejack had been there, so she couldn’t have been hallucinating. Had it been a dream? Or maybe—

She whirled, pointing a hoof at the other mare. “Have I ever told you the story of how I did a Sonic Rainboom?”

Trails cocked her head. “Dash, you’ve told me that story like ten times already. This isn’t the time.”

“How many times?” Rainbow pressed. “How many times exactly have I told you the story?”

“Uh… “ Trails rubbed at her chin with a hoof. “Three? Am I missing something?”

Rainbow nodded, letting her hooves fall to the floor once more. She beckoned Trails close and leaned into her ear to whisper, “I think a changeling killed Dusty.”

Trails stiffened. “What?”

“Think about it! I spoke to a Star Trails, and it wasn’t you.” Rainbow bit her lip as she thought back to the past few days. “And Flint’s cider! There were two kegs empty, but nopony on the crew would have drank any. His helmet was missing and—” she paused, her mouth going dry “—like it just walked off.”

“But how would a changeling do all that? Why?” Trails shook her head. “And that still doesn’t explain what you saw. It’s not like a changeling can just transform into another pony at will.”

Rainbow shot her a look. Trails narrowed her eyes.

“Wait. Can changelings transform into another pony at will?”

“Of course they can!” Rainbow hissed. “Why do you think they’re called changelings?!”

“I don’t know! I’m not a historian!” Trails shot back. “I thought they were just mutated Canterlot ponies, like seaponies, but without water!”

“We need to get back,” Rainbow said, turning around. “Sabre needs to know.”

“They’ll be fine, Dash. There’s three of them.” Trails stepped in front of her. “But Sunfeather’s probably on her own down in the engine, and she isn’t a fighter. If that changeling catches her looking like one of us… “

“Right. Let’s move, fast!”

They broke out into a trot, closing the distance to the front of the ship at a quick pace. The red emergency light above the rec room door came into sight, beckoning them forwards.

Trails came to a stop in front of it, but instead of approaching the door and prompting it open, she turned to face the opposite direction. A small trapdoor was set low into the wall at an angle, reminding Rainbow of the entrance to Applejack’s old cellar. The door hung open, swallowing up the dim red light like a hungry monster waiting for prey to wander inside.

“We’re going down there?” Rainbow asked.

“There’s a few maintenance tunnels around the ship,” Trails said. She floated her javelin down first, illuminating the surface of a mesh catwalk within. “This one leads to the engine. If anyone wanted to break or fix it, this is where they’d go. C’mon!”

Rainbow grimaced as she watched Trails squeeze herself through the little hole and step out of sight. Taking a deep breath, she poked her head inside and looked around.

The maintenance tunnel was even tighter than she had first thought. The walkway ran between two walls made of interlocking brass piping, and unlike the rest of the ship there were no red emergency lights to fend off the darkness. Only the soft glow of Trails’ magic lit the way, and even that was mostly blocked by the unicorn’s body. Rainbow wasn’t even sure if she could get one wing half-flared in the little space. How easy would it be for a changeling to jump out of some unseen crevice and rip her throat out while she struggled to even bring her weapon to bear?

She shook herself, dislodging the bloody image. “C’mon, Rainbow,” she muttered. “You’re not afraid of a little tunnel, are you? Gonna take more than two walls to stop the most awesome pony in Equestria. Yeah.”

She eased herself through the trapdoor as she spoke, trying not to cringe at the way her feathers brushed against both walls as she followed after Trails. The mesh of the catwalk trembled underhoof, and looking down past it Rainbow caught brief glimpses of clockwork gears catching the light from Trails’ horn.

She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until they reached the end of the tunnel, coming out into a small but busy room filled with still gears and brass tubing. A single red emergency light was set into the floor, throwing shadows upwards against the two boilers running along the top of the room.

A platform inscribed with arcane runes was set against the far wall, surrounded by strange instruments and symbols made from a grainy white material that Rainbow couldn’t recognize. The space above it was conspicuously empty.

“Well, that confirms that,” Trails said. “Relic’s gone, but hopefully not far. Now we just need to find Sunfeather.”

The sound of approaching hooves echoed out of another narrow maintenance tunnel, this one in one of the far corners, and both mares pointed their weapons towards it. A second later another set of hooves became audible from a different maintenance tunnel, opposite the corner the first one was in. Rainbow and Trails exchanged a brief glance, and Rainbow adjusted to face the other direction.

“There’s an intruder on the ship,” Sunfeather said as she stepped out of the first tunnel. She had a toolbag perched on her back, and her silver mane and gray coat were both smudged with the stains of recent work.

Trails breathed a sigh of relief. “We know. He got Dusty.”

“There’s an intruder on the ship,” Sunfeather said as she stepped out of the second tunnel. This one’s toolbag was a different color, and the stains in her coat and mane had a different pattern to them.

“Oh, fuck,” Trails muttered, pointing her javelin at the second Sunfeather as it looked to the other with mild interest. “What the fuck.”

“Quick, ask them something only the real Sunfeather would know!” Rainbow hissed. She stood sideways to both of them, holding her one wingblade out in front of her.

“We’re not that close!” Trails hissed back. “We barely talk!”

“I’ll save you the trouble,” the first Sunfeather droned, her voice carrying all the energy of a mare reviewing her taxes. “I came down to investigate the power outage, and I saw that thing—” she pointed at the other Sunfeather “—messing with the relic. I chased it into the maintenance tunnels, but I lost track of it.”

The second Sunfeather blinked. “I’ll save you the trouble,” she began, voice filled with the excitement of a mare who had just finished sorting her laundry. “I came down—”

Trails’ javelin lashed out at the second one. It let out a shrill screech as green flames burst from its body, and the revealed changeling ducked under the strike before leveling its glowing horn on its attacker.

Trails threw herself to the side just as a beam of glimmering green energy shot forth, striking the pipe behind her with a loud crack. Hot steam burst out of the pipe, the hiss joined by a strained curse from Star Trails, and Rainbow raised a wing to protect her face from the heat as she flinched back.

By the time the steam dissipated enough for her to lower her wing, the changeling was gone. Sunfeather was bent over Trails, who lay on the floor nursing an apparent wound on her flank.

“Fuck, that’s hot!” Trails spat through clenched teeth.

“It ran off!” Sunfeather shouted, looking to the tunnel that led back to the rest of the ship. “It still has the relic!”

Rainbow went to give chase, but she hesitated. Sabre’s words were still clear in her mind. “Don’t run off alone. Star Trails is in charge. Don’t let me down, Rainbow Dash.” She looked to Trails, the question clear in her mind.

“Just go!” Trails waved her off with a hoof. “If it gets away, we’re dead in the air!”

With a nod, Rainbow galloped into the tunnel. She caught just a brief glimpse of the changeling jumping out the trapdoor at the end and wasted no time in pouring on the speed, her hooves pounding against the wire mesh beneath her.

She shot out into the hall with a challenging shout, but nothing rose up to meet her. The sound of the changeling’s hooves seemed to come from both directions at once, growing fainter, and with a frustrated growl Rainbow picked one at random and spread her wings.

The hall blurred past, the alternating red and blue flashing in her eyes a dozen times in ten seconds before she drew up short in front of the cargo hold door. The changeling turned the opposite corner at the same time, and as it skidded to a stop Rainbow got her first good look at it.

She’d seen plenty of changelings in her life, both during the siege of Canterlot a thousand years ago and in the pockmarked streets of its ruins a millenia later. They always appeared misshapen, either with limbs too long and spindly for their barrels or chests bulging with unnatural muscle, their chitin often cracked and warped from the vain effort of trying to contain their bodies. But this one appeared almost normal. If not for the bloody claws sticking out of its hooves like nails that had pounded into its skin, the curling fangs jutting out past its muzzle in every direction, or the heavy edge of chitin running along its tattered gossamer wings, it could’ve easily been one of the cackling creatures that had invaded Canterlot so long ago.

It was the appearance that made her hesitate. She raised a hoof, putting as much force into her voice as she could. “Stop!”

It hissed at her, seizing the opportunity to fire a bolt of blazing green fire in her direction. She yelped as she ducked the shot, catching a brief glimpse of the monster bounding up the steps to the upper level hallway.

“Oh no you don’t!” She gave chase with a flap of her wings, cresting the stairs just in time to see the changeling dart through the still-open door of the clinic.

Rainbow darted into the clinic without hesitation, her bladed wing raised high and a warcry on her lips. The changeling was nowhere to be seen.

She scanned the room, breathing hard. Dusty’s body was still splayed out in the same place, and aside from a few loose tools rolling around the room was empty. She frowned as she noticed the toolbag the changeling had been carrying resting on the counter. She took a step forwards.

Green fire flickered behind her, followed by her own voice. “Oh, no you don’t!”

Rainbow whipped around, bringing her bladed wing up just barely in time to catch her doppelganger’s own wing coming down. She blinked, eye widening as her blade got caught in the outer feathers instead of slicing through with ease, doing little more than drawing a few beads of green ichor.

For a fraction of an instant, Rainbow stared into a reflection of her own face, the space where her eyepatch should be replaced with a smooth expanse of unbroken cyan fur. The changeling’s one fiery cerise eye glared down at her, held back only by the clashing wings and loose strands of prismatic mane.

Rainbow’s lips curled back in a furious snarl. She shoved the changeling back, throwing it against the window above Dusty’s body. “Stop copying me!”

“Stop copying me!” the changeling shot back. Green fire raced over its form as it jumped upwards, crashing through a closed grate in the ceiling.

“And stop running!” Rainbow shouted, crouching down to give chase. She paused, glancing behind her to the toolbag the changeling had left behind. A faint white glow drifted up from its innards, casting strange, twisting symbols against the wall behind it.

She knew she shouldn’t give chase. She’d saved the relic, and the smart thing would be to bring it back to the rest of the crew, share what she’d found out, and then make a plan to take it out together.

But that thing had had the audacity to mock her with her own face. She already knew where it was. And she was the most awesome pony in Equestria. She’d taken out plenty of changelings before, and Dusty’s body was right there, staring at her as if begging for someone to avenge him.

She flapped her wings, tucking them against her sides and shooting through the remains of the grate.

She came out into near total darkness, the dim red light spilling up from the clinic outlining the shape of a ladder before her. The motion of the air around her feathers told her that she was still inside, but this space was bigger than any other she’d seen on the Argo. She followed the ladder up, turning slow circles and squinting into the darkness, until it ended at a mesh catwalk.

“Ugh, another one of these?” Rainbow settled gingerly onto the catwalk, her bladed wing held out in front of her as she crept further away from the dull red beam, ears straining to make out any noise between every step. “C’mon out, little changeling.”

Her own voice echoed back to her from the dark. “C’mon out, little changeling.”

Okay, that’s creepy. Rainbow’s ears twitched at the sound of rustling fabric to her side.

Sickly green light flared up in front of her. She squinted into the brightness, catching a brief glimpse of the changeling on the catwalk in front of her and round, bulbous shapes that seemed to float on either side like dark clouds, and then she threw herself into the air as a bolt of green fire raced towards her, splashing against the metal where she had just been standing with a crackling hiss.

The afterimage of the room was still burned in her vision when the changeling pounced. Rainbow lashed out towards the sound with her wing. Rushing wind tugged at her mane as the changeling hissed into her ear, and she turned the strike into a spinning slash at the air below her before twisting around to land on her hooves.

The changeling had landed behind her, the red beam of light from the clinic grate outlining it in a hazy silhouette that seemed to bleed into the surrounding emptiness when it moved. She gave ground as its heavy wings beat against her defense, praying to Celestia that the catwalk wouldn’t suddenly end behind her.

She ducked a swipe from one of the changeling’s wings, wincing at the sound of tearing canvas behind her. Starlight streamed into the room, picking out the changeling’s form in detail, and Rainbow seized the opportunity to shoot back up with a fearsome shout, striking the changeling’s chest with both forelegs and sending it falling off the catwalk with a pained shriek.

Rainbow barely had time to catch her breath before blasts of green fire began spewing up from the darkness under the catwalk. She yelped as she took to the air, dodging each attack with quick flutters of her wings. Twinkling beams of moonlight crisscrossed the wide room as each bolt blew a new hole in the walls, picking out the metal skeleton that lined the edges and the floating canvas balloons lining the catwalk in neat rows.

Rainbow stole a glance at the changeling as she ducked behind one balloon, spotting it perched on a metal beam that ran along the bottom of the long, cylindrical room. Her eyes widened as the next blast popped the balloon she’d hid behind, throwing her back in a wild spin.

Rainbow cried out as she tore through the canvas wall, falling into the open air outside the Argo and arresting her spin just in time to avoid gutting herself on the sharp metal blades of one of its massive propellers. She shook herself, regaining her bearings, and looked back to the hole she’d left in the Argo’s balloon envelope.

The envelope was in tatters, with loose flaps of canvas fluttering in the ocean wind and moonlight reflecting off the exposed surface of the metal skeleton inside. Rainbow didn’t know much about airship engineering, but she knew that the balloon was what kept it up, and she had to put a stop to the fight before the changeling caused so much damage that the ship could no longer maintain altitude. She set her jaw as she flew out in a wide arc, aiming to pierce the canvas near the bottom of the balloon where she remembered the changeling to be.

The tearing of the canvas screamed in her ears as she punched through to the inside, bringing a new beam of starlight that picked out the changeling crouched low on the balloon’s skeleton, its eyes still fixed on where it had last seen her. It turned with an odd, strangled shriek that Rainbow could only think of as shocked, bringing a grin to her face.

“Gotcha.”

She slammed into it with both hooves, bearing it to the ground and dragging the back of its armored shell across the metal with her momentum. It hissed its defiance at her, disappearing in a flash of cold green fire and glaring up at her with her own face contorted in fury.

She snarled as she raised a hoof, stomping hard against one wing and wrenching it backwards with a wet snap that sent its scream up an octave. With her blade she stabbed through the chitin at the base of its other wing, wrenching the tip in the wound and shooting a spurt of green blood against her bared teeth.

Spittle flew into Rainbow’s face as the changeling screamed up at her, the sharp claws on its hooves digging into her belly. She screamed back in fury as much as pain, rolling to the side and off the edge of the thin metal girder they were fighting on.

Both of them tumbled through the envelope and back into open air. Rainbow kicked it loose, hissing as the claws tore more flesh loose on the way out, and caught herself on her wings.

The changeling’s wings, however, were mangled beyond use. It shrieked up at her as she watched it plummet into the night, its ragged voice growing steadily fainter, until finally she couldn’t pick its dark chitin out from the ocean any longer. She thought she might have heard a splash, but she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just the ocean swells.

With a groan, Rainbow pushed her hooves up against the twin gashes in her belly, wincing with every breath. The warm ocean air tickled at her tongue, its salt mixing in with the bitter tang of the changeling’s thick blood.

She fluttered back towards the envelope with gritted teeth, straining against the sudden ache in her wings. She blinked, and suddenly she was back on the catwalk. Where am I?

Right, changeling. She limped towards the warm red light that highlighted the ladder back to Dusty Tome’s clinic. He can fix me up. I’ll be fine.

She blinked again, gasping as she fell through the open grate and back into the clinic. She bounced off the bed with a grunt, rolling to a stop on the floor. She’d landed in something wet and oddly warm. With a moan she looked to the side and saw Dusty’s body gaping at her as if in shock.

She choked out a bitter laugh. Right. He’s dead. Ponyfeathers.

Rainbow pulled her dry lips apart, pushing the words out as hard as she could. “AJ! I’m up here!” She paused to suck in a breath, dragging herself towards the open door to the hall. “Trails! Sabre!”

She didn’t remember the door being so far away last time. Her head fell against the floor with an irritated grunt. That better not be my blood.

Darkness began to drip in along the corners of her sight. She really hated that. She rolled onto her back with her lips twisted into a determined grimace. I’m not gonna die. It takes more than one changeling to kill Rainbow Dash!

Was that the sound of hooves approaching? The buzzing in her ears was too loud for her to be sure.

As the black tendrils crept over her vision, Rainbow imagined she was resting on a soft bed of clouds.

Author's Notes:

Sacrifice comes in many forms. It can be given freely or taken without warning, and sometimes the giver never learns if it was worth it.

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What happens when a team of interdimensional Sweetie Belle explorers shows up on the bottom of the ocean?

XII: Of Lessons

The tearing of the canvas screamed in Rainbow’s ears as she punched through to the inside, bringing a new beam of starlight that picked out the changeling crouched low on the balloon’s skeleton, its eyes still fixed on where it had last seen her. It turned with an odd, strangled shriek that Rainbow could only think of as shocked, bringing a grin to her face.

“Gotcha.”

She slammed into it with both hooves, bearing it to the ground and dragging the back of its armored shell across the metal with her momentum. It hissed its defiance at her, disappearing in a flash of cold green fire and glaring up at her with her own face contorted in fury.

She snarled as she raised a hoof, but the changeling seized the opportunity to buck underneath her, throwing her off balance before she could strike. The hard chitin along the edge of its wings struck against her shoulder with a wet snap, and Rainbow’s vision blanked out as white-hot pain lanced through her wing with the blade strapped to it. She bit back a scream as the changeling pushed her onto her back, snapping its mess of oversized fangs into the joint of her good wing.

A shriek escaped her as it wrenched her side-to-side like a toy, scraping her back against the hard metal underneath her, and then suddenly she was falling. There was a brief moment of resistance, the rip of fabric, and Rainbow finally was suddenly aware of the howling wind in her ears.

She blinked, gritted her teeth, and focused on the alternating images of the Argo and the ocean tumbling through her sight. She was in freefall. No big deal. She was the greatest flier in Equestria, and she could pull out of a tailspin that would nauseate even a Wonderbolt without issue.

She twitched her wings and received a flash of pain as a reward. Her spin wasn’t easing out. The first tinge of worry bled through the adrenaline rushing through her veins as she struggled to look back and focus on her wings.

Rainbow’s breath hitched. The hot blood that had been surging through her turned ice cold and she let out a strangled whimper.

Her wings were ruined. One had been mangled beyond repair, splayed out stiffly, twitching in agony, and ignoring her every command. The other was completely absent, with nothing more than a trail of blood in the space where it should have been.

Far above her, stark against the backdrop of winking stars, Rainbow saw the changeling hovering in place beside the Argo, staring down at her impassively.

“No!” Rainbow reached a hoof up to the dim shadows of the clouds. Tears streamed from her eyes as she struggled to get her remaining wing under control, to do something to slow her fall. “Not like this! Please!”

The wind was deafening. It screeched in her ears like some bloodthirsty monster, a demon awaiting her beneath the waves, maw open wide, growing ever louder as she tumbled and twisted through the uncaring air until it dominated her every thought.

She just had time to catch the reflection of her own horrified face in the water before—

Rainbow shot up out of the bed with a scream, right into Applejack’s hooves.

“Whoa, nelly! It’s alright, sugar cube. I got ya. Y’alright.”

A shuddering sob wracked Rainbow’s body as she took in her surroundings. She was in the cramped shipboard clinic, her midriff wrapped in bandages and her shoulders wrapped in her friend’s warm embrace. Applejack’s soft reassurances cooed in her ears, barely audible past the drumming of her pulse.

She twisted around, ignoring the pain that flared up in her chest, and examined her wings. She fluttered each one in turn, letting out a trembling breath when her mind finally slowed down enough for her to think.

It had been a nightmare. Her wings were fine, healthy and toned and responsive and agile as ever. She was still a pegasus.

Rainbow leaned into the soft warmth of Applejack’s chest, closing her eye and listening to the other mare’s steady heart and consoling voice. She wasn’t sure how long she sat like that, struggling to hold her tears back, but she didn’t pull back until her own pulse had slowed to the same calm rhythm as Applejack’s.

“Bad dream?” Applejack looked down at her with a half-cocked smile. “Y’all gave us a mighty fright, RD.”

“S-sorry.” Rainbow looked away, wiping her cheeks with a wing.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Rainbow shook her head. She didn’t even want to think about it. Nightmares of falling had plagued her as a young filly, and it had been over a decade since she’d had one. She clenched her jaw and pushed it out of her mind, searching for something else to focus on. “Where’re the others?”

“In the cargo hold.” Applejack’s voice was soft. Respectful. “Holdin’ a service for Dusty.”

Rainbow bit her lip. She stole a glance to the ground where she’d found the unicorn’s body and found it clean of blood. She thought of the little workshop where somepony must have scrubbed away her own blood in much the same way. Who kept cleaning all the bloodstains on this ship? Couldn’t they leave just a little bit behind? Just a small patch of brown to mark the site, an altar burned into the metal to acknowledge to all who came after, a pony bled here. A pony died here.

She blinked, tearing her gaze away from the spotless floor, and frowned as she saw the little plastic tube sticking out of her hoof. She followed it up to a bag suspended from the ceiling, gorged with a thick red liquid that almost sparkled in the sunlight from the porthole.

“Y’all lost a lot of blood,” Applejack said. “Hope y’all don’t mind takin’ some of mine.”

Rainbow frowned, pulling back and looking at the cowpony more closely. She did seem a little pale in the cheeks. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Actually, I did.” Applejack looked away, her voice hardening. She took a deep breath, and Rainbow thought she could hear a slight trembling in her voice. “Couldn’t have ya leavin’ me all alone over here, ya know?”

“Oh.” Rainbow grimaced as she settled back into the bed, wincing at the soreness of her body. “Sorry.”

“S’alright. Just glad y’all’re okay.”

Both mares jumped at the sound of the door opening. They turned to watch Sea Sabre step into the little space, holding the door open behind her with a wing. She looked to each of them in turn, her expression as firm and unreadable as ever, before focusing on Applejack. “I’d like some time alone with her.”

Applejack bristled as she turned fully around and spread her stance. “I’m sorry to hear that, Sabre.”

Sabre cocked her head a fraction of an inch. Rainbow tensed, her eye darting between the two mares. She thought back to the way the older pegasus had carried herself in the wake of Dusty’s death.

At last, Sabre spoke. “At least sit down and let us talk, then. I won’t take long.”

Applejack nodded, stepping to the side with a snort and sitting against a wall. “Reckon that’s fine, but I’ll be watchin’.”

Sabre approached with slow, measured steps, and Rainbow’s pulse quickened as she noticed the corner of a black notebook tucked beneath one of her wings. She sat down, her eyes focused on the window behind Rainbow.

“You never told me that changelings could shapeshift.”

There was no accusation in her tone; it was a simple statement of fact, delivered with a thin veneer of calm detachment, and yet Rainbow couldn’t help but hear so much more underneath it. Seconds passed as she mustered the courage to respond.

Sabre gave a slight shake of her head, cutting her off. “You have nothing to apologize for. It was my mistake. My responsibility.”

The wing with the journal tucked under it twitched, and Rainbow wasn’t sure if she had imagined the slight tremble in the other mare’s voice when she spoke. She stole a glance towards Applejack, who looked back at her with wide eyes.

Rainbow turned back to Sabre with a grimace. “You couldn’t have known.”

“I could have known,” Sabre countered. “If I had asked the right questions.”

Applejack sighed. She stepped up to Sabre’s side, raised a hoof as if to place it on her shoulder, but then seemed to think better of it. “Nobody’s perfect, sugar cube. It’s okay to make mistakes.”

“Only when they’re the right mistakes,” Sabre muttered. She looked up, meeting Rainbow’s gaze. “Tell me what happened after you left Star Trails.”

Rainbow cocked her head, thrown by the sudden shift in focus. “Huh?”

“We found you bleeding out on the floor, with the relic in a bag on the counter. You did well to retrieve it. Is the changeling dead?”

“Y-yeah.” Rainbow looked away, thinking of the way it had screamed up at her as it fell. “I chased it up into the envelope after it ditched the relic. Broke its wings and threw it into the ocean.”

Sabre frowned. Her wing snapped open, cradling her open notebook before her. “You chased it after retrieving the relic? Alone?”

A vague sense of alarm lit up in the back of Rainbow’s mind. Cautiously, “That’s right.”

“Do you recall my orders to you, Rainbow Dash?”

“Find Sunfeather, retrieve the relic, and… “ Rainbow sighed as realization dawned on her. “Only then catch the intruder.”

“And don’t run off alone,” Sabre added sternly.

“Well, what was I supposed to do, huh?” Rainbow quipped. “That thing killed Dusty!”

“You think I don’t know that?”

Rainbow stiffened, suddenly aware of her foolishness. Sabre glared up at her with that same fire in her eyes, and for a moment it seemed almost as if she was seeing Dusty’s body for the first time again. This time, however, all the mare’s ire was directed straight at the prismatic pegasus before her.

“Do you think I wanted to sit in that cargo hold watching Luna?” Sabre spat. “Do you think that you were the only pony on this ship that wanted revenge?” She clenched her jaw, her lip curling up with barely restrained fury. “You barely even spoke to Dusty Tome, Rainbow Dash. Every pony on this ship wanted to get payback for what happened to him, but unlike you, every pony else displayed some discipline!”

Rainbow flinched back from the sudden heat in the commander’s voice. “Sabre—”

“What you should have done was retrieved the relic and then reported back to me, like you were ordered!” Sabre pressed on, bulling through Rainbow’s defense. “We would have regrouped, made a plan, and taken care of it together!”

“But—”

“But!” Sabre snapped. “But instead you decided to chase it down yourself, with no armor and only half a weapon, and you almost died for it!” She paused, taking a deep breath, and as she exhaled the fire began to dim, her eyes cooling like glowing hot steel quenched in water. “We could’ve had two deaths last night.”

Rainbow’s jaw hung open. She held Sabre’s gaze for a long moment, a pit of shame welling up inside her, before she finally found her voice. “I’m sorry.” She looked down, her ears drooping. “It w-won’t happen again.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Sabre growled. She shuffled her wings as she turned for the door, pushing Applejack away with the motion. “We’ll be detouring to the nearest island for repairs and resupply. Training’s suspended until further notice.” She stepped out into the hall without looking back. “Get some rest.”

She shut the door behind her, leaving Rainbow shooting a sideways, guilty glance towards Applejack. The cowpony gave a sympathetic shake of her head, but said nothing.

The muffled sound of hoofsteps receded into the distance, leaving only the steady ticking of the hull.

Twilight came out of the teleport with the crackle of magic and the swirling rush of bubbles, her hooves alighting on a slick, cracked tiled floor that had been submerged for centuries.

It didn’t take long for the water to settle, allowing her to see clearly past the lavender glow of her shield. She was standing in a wide hall, totally flooded, about wide enough for five ponies to walk abreast and at the bottom of a long flight of stairs. The walls had long since been stripped of paint, leaving behind only bare, flat stone.

A dozen ancient bodies were splayed across the floor at the end of the hall, their skeletal limbs tangled together like jumbled toys. A couple of them still wore the hard barding of guardsponies, and all were pushed up against a featureless steel vault door that blocked the hall off in its entirety. A few small scrapes marred the surface of the door, but if the shattered hooves of some of the skeletons were any indication, it had more than fulfilled its purpose.

Twilight ignored the corpses, instead sending a ping through the door. The door flickered with a pale red glow, and Twilight frowned as her ping bounced off and returned to her with no knowledge of what waited on the other side.

Magic wards. My, my. Twilight’s magic slithered towards her horn unbidden, gathering into a ball of brilliant energy. Not strong enough to keep us out, however.

Wait! Twilight set her jaw as she pulled the magic back. We can’t destroy it! What if there are ponies inside?

What if? Midnight appeared next to her with a derisive sneer. They deny us entry. It is our right.

We don’t have to destroy it! Twilight began twisting the magic into a teleport. We can brute force our way through and teleport to the other side.

And leave ourselves vulnerable to anything waiting within, yes. Midnight’s lips twisted into a snarl as it clamped down on their magic. A foalish risk!

I’d rather risk my own life than the lives of others! Twilight shot back.

And that’s where you’re wrong, little flower!

Twilight glared into her own bloodshot eyes, a pulsing ache beating at the back of her skull as she struggled to take control of her magic. Midnight snarled down at her, its dark influence wrapping around her horn like a viper, tightening with every passing second.

She wouldn’t be able to win this; neither of them would, and they both knew it. With both of their attentions fully focused on the arcane tug-of-war, all they would do is wear each other out, draining their magic reserves until they didn’t have the energy to bypass the door with either method. They’d have to go back into the city and hunt, weakened, and hope for the best.

Midnight grinned. Is that the game you wish to play, then?

Twilight grit her teeth. Her dark passenger would be more than willing to draw the conflict out as long as it meant that she didn’t win, but her own mind rebelled at the idea of so much wasted time and energy. Force wouldn’t get her anywhere.

But then when had she ever relied on force to solve her problems?

We can compromise! Twilight offered. We teleport through, but if anything threatens us on the other side—she pursed her lips, hesitating only briefly—then you can do as you wish. I won’t interfere.

Midnight cocked its head, opening its mouth to reveal the sharp points of her teeth. Even if they’re ponies?

Twilight held Midnight’s gaze as she nodded. Even if they’re ponies.

Mmm. You have yourself a deal, my sweet. Midnight stepped back, relinquishing its pull on her magic. See that you honor it.

Twilight held its gaze for only a moment before turning back to the vault and calling on her magic once more. Teleportation was a complex spell, but one she was intimately familiar with, and it would be a simple matter to focus the necessary power to get her past the vault’s defenses.

Maybe she shouldn’t. If there were ponies living in there, even innocents, then could she fault them for attacking a strange mare with fangs and bleeding eyes who just shoved past their magic defenses? Midnight certainly wouldn’t hold back, and the blame for any resulting deaths would rest squarely at Twilight’s hooves.

But she couldn’t just walk away either. Whatever was inside the vault, it could be the key to learning what had happened to Equestria.

She would just have to trust that any ponies inside wouldn’t respond to her arrival with violence. They were Equestrians like her after all, right? They wouldn’t attack a strange pony unprovoked.

And if they did, then surely she couldn’t be blamed for defending herself?

The spell was ready, hovering on the tip of her horn as a twinkling ball of lavender. She shot a sideways glance towards Midnight, who smirked back at her, and released the magic.

The purple flash and familiar crackle washed over her. The vault resisted, pushing back, but its magic was old and her reserves were deep. A flash of pain arced up her horn as she broke through the enchantments, landing with a soft grunt.

Twilight wobbled slightly, unbalanced by the sudden absence of the crushing ocean against her magic, and performed a quick scan of her surroundings. She was standing in a short, narrow hallway of tarnished steel, the walls decorated by a trio of faded posters and a single unlit lamp. A cloud of dust had been kicked up by her arrival, the disturbed motes dancing through the air around her. She glanced behind herself to see the vault door, a browned skeleton huddled up under the heavy wheel in the center.

Oh, what a shame. Midnight let out a dramatic sigh. I had really been hoping they’d still be alive.

Maybe there are still survivors. Twilight held still, ears quirking in every direction, but she was met only with a haunting silence. After days in the changeling-infested ruins of Canterlot, the cramped, quiet tunnel was enough to send a shiver down her spine.

She started down the hall, cringing at the noise of her hooves against the steel, and turned her eyes up to the posters. Her greyscale night vision made it almost impossible to make out any of the faded colors, so she lit her horn, bringing a dull life back to the images. Heroic pony silhouettes against stark red backdrops posed in front of blocky cityscapes with thick, rigid text outlined underneath. “THE STALLION IS ALWAYS FIRST,” the first said, with the second calling to “REPORT ALL SUSPECTED CHANGELINGS.”

But it was the third that gave her pause. The mare silhouetted in the center was surrounded by smaller, fanged copies of herself, each looking up to her with hungry, fanged grins. “REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE.”

A chilling leg draped itself over Twilight’s shoulder, and she turned to see Midnight beside her, looking up at the poster with its slitted eyes narrowed in disdain. Weak. These foals held onto their denial to their deaths.

What were they supposed to do? Twilight looked away, bristling as she saw Midnight watching her from her other side. Give in? Lose themselves to the whispers of dark magic?

Midnight snorted. Look around, little flower. These ponies clung to their stubborn ideals much as you do, and we see how that resistance served them. Why do you insist on making the same mistake that millions have made before you?

It’s always about survival with you, isn’t it? Twilight rolled her eyes as she turned away from the posters, facing the rigid steel door placed on the opposite wall.

Of course. What else is there, without survival?

Twilight clenched her jaw, ignoring the question as she wrapped her magic around the wheel set into the door’s face. The metal groaned as the ancient mechanism resisted her, but gave after a few seconds of applied force. A low creak filled the little space as the heavy door swung open, revealing a small room dominated by a long wooden table. Squat chairs lined either side, their cushions flattened by age, and a chandelier had fallen onto the table, scattering shards of glass across the cold steel floor.

“Hello?” Twilight coughed, her voice hoarse after days without use, and tried again as the door settled against the wall with a ponderous thud. “Is anypony here?”

Silence. Dust swirled in the door’s wake.

Stepping over the threshold, Twilight’s breath hitched as she spied the unicorn skeleton huddled up under the table, its body framed in empty bottles and its head resting on a rolled newspaper. She wrapped the paper in her magic, cast a protective spell over the ancient material, and gingerly pulled it free.

“CORRUPTION SPREADING DESPITE CONTAINMENT,” the headline read, with a subtitle underneath. “Celestia gives assurances that Canterlot refugees not infectious; urges Equestrians to open their homes.”

Beneath the headline, Twilight saw a photo of Princess Celestia looking out over a crowd of ponies in Ponyville Town Square, an exhausted Shining Armor at her side. The Canterhorn was visible in the distance behind her, though the distinctive silhouette of Canterlot had been replaced with a rounded sphere that jutted out from the mountainside like some great grey pustule. A pang of nostalgia struck her as she took in the familiar horizon, a scene she’d taken for granted during her brief, magical stay in Ponyville. She would give anything to see the sun shining on Canterlot again.

So the city was evacuated, Midnight mused, breaking Twilight from her trance. That explains the lack of bodies.

It doesn’t explain the dome. Twilight floated Shining’s logbook out of her pack, casting a quick spell to copy the photograph over onto a blank page. The small font of the newspaper was impossible to read after so long, but the image was invaluable even on its own. It looks exactly like my brother’s shield spell in shape, but he couldn’t have cast it.

Then who could?

Nopony could. Even the Princesses couldn’t cast a spell like that by their own power.

Floating Shining’s logbook beside her, Twilight turned to the rest of the room and found more doors waiting on each wall. Rather than explore each option on hoof, she sent out a few pings, sighing in relief when they worked as expected.

Although she couldn’t detect anything outside of the vault, she was able to get a decent idea of the layout and size of the place. It was like a small apartment complex, only two stories deep and big enough to hold a couple families on each level.

There was a pile of bodies on the lower level. She hated how proficient she’d become at magically identifying the dead.

With another sigh, she pushed herself into motion.

It quickly became clear to her that the vault was designed to hold ponies, though most likely on the timescale of months as opposed to centuries. She found a pair of bedrooms on the upper level, with one room occupied by a trio of small, foal-sized beds. She didn’t let her eyes linger on the little bodies that had rotted away on the ragged mattresses, instead rushing into what she took to be the parents’ room. The corpse on the floor there showed signs of mutation, its teeth curved into vicious fangs and its bones marred by bulbous growths that almost looked as if they had begun to boil underneath their hosts’ skin. It was leaned up against the steel wall head-first, the deep cracks in its skull reflected in the dented surface of the wall.

Next to the bedrooms was a wide square room with a circular table in the middle. There were no chairs here, but several maps of northern Equestria were laid out on the table surface, all stained with blood. A collection of little red tokens were arranged around the middle of the map, where Stalliongrad was centered, facing off against broken lines of blue ones.

She pressed on, reaching a set of stairs at the back of the upper level that led down to another thick steel door. The wheel, rusted in place, snapped off when she tried to spin it, forcing her to teleport into the little open space on the other side.

More doors. They were ancient, the wood sometimes cracking under the force of her magic as she dislodged them, the sound of the splintering quickly absorbed by the small spaces as dust was kicked up in her wake. She stepped into a larger bedroom, a pegasus skeleton curled up on the floor with the bloodstained remains of an old dagger clutched against its chest. The frayed remains of a rope was wrapped around its neck, a matching rope hanging from the ceiling above as it swayed gingerly in the air displaced by the opened door.

Twilight’s eyes were drawn to an easel set up just in front of the bed. A canvas was perched atop it, the painting marred by old blood trails and tears, but not so disfigured that she couldn’t make out the somber-faced pegasus mare it depicted or the bloody, slit-eyed twin snarling behind her.

A portrait? Intriguing. Midnight struck a matching pose on the bed, its lips stretched freakishly wide and its eyes glowing like violet beacons in the dark. Unfortunate we hadn’t arrived sooner, or perhaps we could have had our own likenesses captured.

Twilight ignored it, her eyes roaming across the other paintings on display. Each one was a portrait of a different pony, all of them wearing collars or shirts bearing the decorations of state. She counted twenty in total, and they took up almost every inch of the limited wall space opposite the bed.

There’s a pattern, Twilight realized. The portraits on the left were life-like and stiff, with the dull colors and plain expressions like she’d seen in dozens of museums or historical textbooks before. But as she looked further to the right they became… unhinged was the only word she could think of. The lines grew blurry and jagged, and the colors became more vibrant as they began to run together. The expressions changed from dignified smiles or frowns into neurotic grimaces and manic grins. Most disturbing of all, she began to pick out shadowy faces hidden in the details, the abstract figures of the background coalescing into slitted eyes and fanged smirks.

She captured it all, as it was happening. All of their wyrds. Twilight looked back to the skeleton on the floor. Unlike some of the other bodies she’d seen in the vault, this one lacked any sign of mutation. It didn’t even have fangs. And she never gave in.

Is that admiration I’m sensing? Midnight’s dark chuckle echoed in the back of her mind. Surely you aren’t having thoughts of following in that corpse’s hoofsteps?

She was stronger than me. Twilight bit her lip as she turned back to the door. I gave in, let you twist me.

You’re mistaking weakness for strength again, little flower. There is no victory to be found in spiteful self-destruction. Midnight stood in the doorway, beckoning with a nod of its head. We will claim victory only with the domination of all who would oppose us. Death, no matter the cause, is the definition of failure.

Twilight followed it back into the hall with her eyes furrowed in thought. She had never wanted to hurt her friends, or become a fanged meat-eater, or to haunt the dark places of the world with slitted eyes. She just wanted to fix things, to see the Princess again, to go back to being an unimportant librarian whose biggest concern was plotting out her schedule every month.

It was her friends that kept her going. She might have fantasized about ending it all and becoming just another victim to the ocean, but how could she leave them behind? How could she let Princess Celestia, all of Equestria, down? In a thousand years, nopony had ever come as close to solving the mystery of the past as she had, and as resourceful and determined as her friends were, she couldn’t leave them to continue the effort without her. If she had to give up her soul to do what needed to be done, then she would do it. Anybody else might get it wrong.

Still, she couldn’t help but envy the resolve of the dead artist behind her. When everything was falling around her and all her peers had given in to the temptation, she’d held out to the end. She had died as her own pony.

Oh, you’re disgusting. Midnight’s scoff cut through her thoughts, drawing Twilight’s attention to the doppelganger standing in front of a door deeper into the vault. Let’s get on with this. We’re getting hungry.

Twilight grimaced, ignoring the sympathetic complaints of her stomach as she pushed through the door. She blinked as a familiar scent tickled at her nostrils, musty and dry. Paper.

She had walked into a little office. A single wooden desk was flush to the wall under a map of Equestria, browned paper scattered beneath the lamp perched on its corner. More papers were strewn across the floor, some even tucked into folders, and Twilight’s pulse quickened as she spotted a pair of filing cabinets squeezed into the corner. A soft magic tingled around them, carrying the signature of an expired preservation spell.

She held her breath as she crept forwards, horn glowing as she applied the softest telekinetic grip she could to one of the old metal drawers. It squealed as she pulled it out, peered inside, and saw—

Paper. Folders and folders of organized notes, the labels just barely legible after so long. A breathy laugh escaped her as she opened the next cabinet, finding a few books tucked away inside, and then more notes in the one after that. Old newspaper clippings, reports, and photographs.

Dozens of records from before the floods, records that these ponies had deemed important enough to save.

Twilight’s whole body trembled as she cleared a space on the desk for Shining Armor’s logbook and grabbed a pencil from a small cup placed in the corner. It was dull, but it only took a wave of her horn to sharpen the point. She poured a powerful burst of energy into an orb of light and floated it up to the ceiling, filling the little record room with bright lavender. A breathy giggle escaped her as she floated the first item up to her eyes.

Oh, wonderful. Midnight’s groan barely even registered as Twilight soaked the written words in like a starving mare in an oasis. We’re not eating tonight, are we?

Rarity didn’t realize just how long she’d been working until, looking up after clearing away a chunk of brick the size of two ponies, she saw the first rays of dawn arcing across the sky.

The sunlight swept over the city accompanied by a light rain, the winter-chilled drops carried into her coat by the gusting wind. They clung to her, carrying the grime and exhaustion with them as they carved trickling paths through the ash, and the small shivers they sent through her body were like breaths of fresh air after the numbness that had built up during the night.

She blinked the bleariness from her eyes, seeing the surrounding city clearly for the first time in hours. Where once the courtyard surrounding the destroyed old fort had been filled with loose stone and rubble, now there were only a few of the largest pieces left. The groaning of the wounded, which had floated from the improvised triage house all through the night like the low chanting of some dread choir, had finally gone quiet as the last of the survivors were carted away to proper facilities and the last of the dying, beyond the help of the exhausted nurses and surgeons, finally passed on. The other volunteers had gone home shortly after sunset, transforming the once bustling disaster zone into a sleepy, almost peaceful ruin.

Piaffe had left several hours ago, assigning a pair of bluecoat stallions to guard her. One was young, reminding her almost of Pontius with the wide-eyed manner in which he watched his more veteran partner when he thought nobody was looking. The other, old and quiet, communicated almost exclusively in a series of nods and frowns. He had reminded her of Ivory at first, but Rarity hadn’t spent long contemplating the likeness. She’d been far too busy for that.

She’d conscripted the two soldiers into serving as her assistants, directing them to help her wrap the heaviest piece of rubble in the fabric of a sturdy military tent. Once the material was in place her special talent came into play, allowing her to move weights that would otherwise take a whole team of muscled laborers. A short break would be taken while she waited for the ensuing headache to fade, and then she’d direct her watchful companions toward the next obstacle.

Right about then, Rarity’s skull was pounding worse than it had during even the most hectic fall fashion seasons. She felt as if she’d spent three straight days without sleep putting together enough new lines for a whole week’s worth of shows, and still there was more to do. She sighed through clenched teeth as she climbed to her hooves.

“Countess? Ye’re still here?”

It took Rarity’s tired mind a full second to recognize the voice. She turned to see River Pie approaching with obvious concern in her eyes. “Oh, Miss Pie. A pleasure—” she slapped a hoof over her mouth just in time to cover the ferocious yawn that overtook her “—to see you again. Would you be a dear and help me—”

River’s eyes narrowed. “Countess, ye need rest.”

Rarity blinked, her mouth still hanging open. After a brief bout of concentration she gathered her thoughts for a response. “But there’s still more to do.”

“Aye, but that doesn’t mean ye need t’ do it all on yer ownsome. Look at ye! Ye’re nearly fallin’ where ye stand!” River looked between the two watching bluecoats incredulously. “And ye two ain’t stopped ‘er?”

The young one looked to the older. He cleared his throat, making way for a few hoarse words. “We have our orders.”

“River, dear, let them be.” Rarity placed a hoof on River’s shoulder, holding the fuming baronlander back. “Captain Piaffe already tried this, but there was still so much to do, and she knew it. I couldn’t just leave!”

“Well ye can leave now!” River said, gesturing behind her. “Th’ Commoner’s Guild is here t’ clean up th’ rest.”

“Commoner’s Guild?” Rarity followed River’s hoof, picking out the gaggle of ponies stepping into view. There were perhaps two dozen of them, all dressed in well-worn work clothes and organized into teams hitched up to battered metal wagons. Wood and rope were piled into the wagons, including two pairs of wide wooden wheels big enough for a pony to walk inside.

“Aye. I go t’ their meetin’s.” River straightened up proudly. “We rounded up a few dock workers t’ come help with th’ biggest blocks. Manager didn’t like it o’ course, but not much she can do when ’er whole shift up ’n vanishes, cranes ’n all!”

One of the new arrivals approached the pair, an earth stallion with a ruddy green coat and a dark mane tied into a ponytail that hung down his neck. His work vest was a plain brown, and it might have gone nicely with the wide-brimmed hat he wore if not for the frayed threads hanging off the sleeves.

He came to a stop at River’s side, looking to her with a nervous smile. She beamed back at him, nodding in Rarity’s direction.

A few seconds passed. Rarity cocked her head as the stallion stole an awkward glance towards her.

“Er, Miss Pie?” Rarity asked. “Perhaps you’d like to introduce us?”

“Aye, looks as if that duty’s fallen t’ me.” River held a hoof out towards Rarity, who dipped into a quick, tired curtsey. “Countess Rarity of Canterthusia, the Gifted mare I’ve told ye about.” She brought the hoof towards the stallion, who was smiling at the space above Rarity’s head. “Twinkle Smith, a friend of mine from the Commoner’s Guild.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Smith.” Rarity extended a hoof.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Countess!” He lunged forwards, pulling Rarity into a hug with alarming speed.

“O-oh!” Rarity’s two guards stiffened off to the side, but she was quick to wave them down with a hoof. She tried to pull herself free of the hug, letting out a breathy giggle as she met resistance. “Some space perhaps, darling?”

“Oh, right! Sorry!” Twinkle stepped back, leaving Rarity to wobble slightly before regaining her balance. “I was just so excited to meet you! River’s told us all about you, you know?”

Rarity shot River a curious look, causing the mare to turn away with a barely perceptible blush. “Has she now?”

“Is it all true?” Twinkle leaned in, lowering his voice as if asking after some conspiracy. “Are you really from the past? You’re here to make Equestria like it used to be, when the Princesses were still around? Before the floods?”

“Ah, well—” Rarity hesitated, put off by the reverence in the stallion’s voice “—I will certainly do my best.”

Twinkle beamed, his eyes finally flicking up to meet hers for a brief moment. He turned to River Pie, who was watching with an apologetic smile. “Do you think she’ll attend a meeting?”

Rarity waved a lazy hoof, drawing his attention back. “Right here, Mr. Smith.”

“Ye’ll have to excuse him. He’s just a little excited is all.” River dipped her muzzle into the bag at her side, pulling out a small card. “Th’ members meet here every day, but most of ’em can’t attend except on Sundays.”

Rarity accepted the card in her magic, ignoring the little gasp from Twinkle Smith, and squinted down at the tiny font. It was difficult to focus on the words in her current state, so she just slipped the card into the pockets sewn into her ruined, rolled-up dress. “Apologies, what did you say the meetings were about, dear?”

“Common good!” Twinkle announced. “The Guild Masters of Friesland have little care for anything aside from business, and so we assembled into our own guild: the Commoner’s Guild!”

River nodded. “We help when th’ crop’s poor or homes start fallin’ apart ’n th’ like.” Behind her, the dock workers had already started unloading their wagons. They moved with the casual precision of experience, assembling the cranes in stony quiet. “Though it’s difficult t’ do much more, seein’ as we can only rely on donations of time ’n bits.”

“I see,” Rarity mumbled. This ‘Commoner’s Guild’ could be useful allies in her attempts to stop the war, and Whitehorn would certainly be interested in hearing about them.

Her thoughts were interrupted by another yawn, so powerful that she actually stumbled a step to the side when she raised a hoof to cover her mouth. “Oh, goodness!”

“Go home, Countess. Please.” River put a hoof on Rarity’s shoulder to steady her, the concern returning to her eyes. “Ye’ve done more’n yer fair share. We can handle th’ rest.”

Rarity opened her mouth to protest once more, but she was interrupted by a gruff call from the dock workers. The first crane had been assembled, and a pair of ponies had already wrapped a boulder-size chunk of rubble in a sling before hooking it to the thick rope that ran up to a pulley, down the crane leg, and to a winch suspended between a pair of large wooden wheels. The ponies inside each wheel began to walk, the crane leg groaning in complaint as the huge stone was hefted into the air, and a team of ponies on the ground began guiding the load into one of the now empty wagons.

The team hitched to the wagon pulled, tugging it into motion with quiet grunts of exertion, and within moments were guiding it down the street and out of sight. One of the ponies on the crane glanced towards Rarity and offered up a brief nod before turning back to his work.

Rarity blinked, sluggish thoughts pushing past the miasma of her exhaustion.

The hours caught up to her all at once. Her hind legs gave out as her rear plopped down to the ground, and she nearly blacked out right there, the darkness encroaching on her vision for a frightening moment before she shook her head and pushed it back. She groaned, raising a hoof to her head in a vain attempt to stem the pulsing ache at the base of her horn.

“Countess!” River stepped closer, supporting Rarity’s weight. “Are ye well?”

“I’m f-fine, darling, thank you.” Rarity winced as the vibration of her own voice bounced around in her skull. “I think I… just pushed myself a bit far.”

“We should get ye back t’ yer bed,” River said. “Where’re ye stayin’, by th’ way?”

The older bluecoat cleared his throat, drawing River’s attention. “That’s none of your concern, baronlander. The Friesland Guard will see to it that the Countess finds her way safely back to her lodging.”

As he spoke, the younger soldier stepped meaningfully forwards, and River backed away without complaint.

Rarity groaned as she forced herself back to her hooves. “I appreciate your concern, Miss Pie, but I do trust these, ah, gentlecolts to see me back.” She grimaced at the ache in her legs as she turned to face the courtyard’s eastern exit. “Truly a pleasure to see you again, despite the circumstances.”

River nodded, offering up a small smile. “With luck, our next meetin’ won’t be so dire.”

“Perhaps tomorrow, at the Guild meeting!” Twinkle Smith added.

Rarity let out a breathy chuckle. “If I’m up to it, darling. Ta-ta!”

With a nod, the older soldier led the way. The younger stayed by Rarity’s side as they walked, subtly stepping closer whenever she faltered to lend support. Rarity did her best to focus on her surroundings as they went, noting the quicker pace and quieted tones of the citizens. Plumes of smoke drifted across the eastern horizon, pushing a distant concern for Fluttershy past the thick blanket of her exhaustion.

She almost didn’t notice they had arrived until the very moment she stepped over the threshold of Piaffe’s home. The Captain was seated at the table with Whitehorn, each nursing drinks with a thin book splayed out between them, while Pontius had been standing by the window.

The coltish stallion rushed up to her at once, nearly bowling her over with his arrival, eyes wide as he took in her disheveled form. “My Lady! What’s happened t’ ye?!”

“Oh, heavens.” Rarity put a hoof to his chest, pushing him back. “I’m fine, thank you, dear. Some space, please?”

He stepped back with a grimace, giving her room to step towards the stairs. She paused, turning to face Captain Piaffe and Whitehorn and receiving understanding nods from each. With a weary smile, she began her ascent.

Pontius followed her, unfortunately. “I haven’t seen ye since th’ bombing! What happened to ye? Did those soldiers do this? My Lady!”

Rarity took a deep breath as she reached the top of the stairs. No need to be upset, Rarity. He only has the best intentions. She opened the door to her room with a hoof, turning in the threshold to face Pontius before he could follow her inside.

“It’s very noble of you to be worried, darling,” she said, slowly closing the door in his face. “But I’d quite like to get some sleep right now.”

The door shut with a satisfying click. She waited, counting three heartbeats, and let out a sigh of relief when she heard him walking back downstairs.

“Rarity!”

Rarity winced as Pinkie’s shrill voice jammed into her ears. Pink hooves wrapped around her neck a moment later.

“Oh my gosh I’m so glad you’re back! I was super duper worried when Piaffe came back without you when it got dark and she said you’d stayed behind and there were these big fires over in the camps where Fluttershy’s staying but nobody would tell me anything and it was so windy outside last night I could barely sleep cause I was thinking about how you might be out there shivering cause you didn’t dress for a cold night and then it started to rain!” Pinkie sucked in a great gasp of breath.

“Pinkie!” Rarity clumsily slapped a hoof over the other mare’s mouth. “It’s wonderful to see you again, darling, and I do appreciate your concern, but I’d quite like to—” she raised her other hoof to stifle a yawn, nearly falling over in the process “—catch up on my beauty sleep.”

Pinkie blinked, pulling back and looking Rarity over with her curious blue eyes. After a few moments, she broke out into a wide smile. “Oh, Rarity, you don’t need any beauty sleep! You don’t have any bags under your eyes, and your coat hasn’t lost its usual lustre, and your mane is just as vibrant and full as always, and you definitely haven’t been slurring your words under your breath this whole time!”

“Mm, quite, yes.” Rarity’s horn glowed as she pulled the ragged remains of her outfit free and hung them limply over her dresser. Her legs went limp as she dove face-first into the bed. She didn’t bother to pull her muzzle free from the comforting fabric when she spoke. “Wake me up at noon, dear.”

If the bed did anything to muffle her voice, Pinkie didn’t seem to have any issue understanding. Rarity was just cognizant enough to hear the other mare’s giggling response before the warm abyss of sleep overtook her.

A small smile graced her lips as she snuggled into the pillows.

I’ve got it. A wide grin split Twilight’s face as she turned a slow circle, taking in the documents and notes she’d pinned to the walls all around her.

A few seconds passed as she nodded in satisfaction, and nothing answered her. She cleared her throat and stomped a hoof, prodding at Midnight with a spike of impatience. “I said, I’ve got it!”

A pair of slitted eyes appeared in Twilight’s shadow, half-lidded with boredom. Twilight clapped her hooves together in glee as she beamed at her shadow, waiting for it to ask her about her findings.

And waited.

A mouth joined the eyes, its fanged maw stretching wide in an exaggerated yawn.

Twilight’s tail flicked behind her. “Ask me what I’ve learned!”

Midnight rolled her eyes. Go on, then. I can tell you’re just dying to share.

“Fine!” Twilight snapped. “Be that way! Ugh!”

Midnight’s low chuckle echoed in Twilight’s ears as she turned to face the notes she’d carefully laid out in the blank pages of Shining Armor’s journal.

“So, we have our beginning state: the Canterlot wedding, and our end state: flooded Equestria.” She levitated her pencil as she spoke, jabbing it eraser-first at the two ends of the timeline she’d doodled. The glow of her horn brightened as she pulled a dozen faded newspapers from their stack, all from dates shortly after the wedding, and scanned the headlines. Her eyes lingered on a faded black-and-white image of Celestia giving a speech before a crowd in Ponyville. “Canterlot was evacuated in the wake of the invasion, and somehow the Princesses cast a solid stone sphere around Shiny’s shield spell.” She stuck her pencil’s eraser between her lips, chewing on it in consternation. “Which is ridiculous. A spell like that is orders of magnitude beyond any earth-shaping magic I’ve read of before.”

She’s an alicorn, is she not? Midnight asked. With the way you fawn over Celestia, is it truly so shocking that she and her sister could muster such power?

Twilight shook her head. “They’re unmatched magic users within their domains, yes, but a strong unicorn can still keep up otherwise. Stone, spheres, shaping—I can’t think of any way that a spell like that could possibly be relevant to the sun or moon. With the sheer mass involved, even a dozen archmages with relevant cutie marks would burn their magic out!”

And yet the spell was cast. Midnight sidled up to Twilight’s side, peering over her shoulder. Perhaps you missed something?

“I’ve gone over everything in this room four times, and you watched me do it!” Twilight’s nostrils flared as she moved on from the nagging question marks in her notes. “The next thing we do know for sure is that the Royal Guard set up a defensive line around the city and began making preparations for a counter-attack, but then—” she pulled the pencil free from her gnawing teeth, pointing it at a photograph of a Guard mare with red tears dripping down her cheeks “—the corruption started.”

Midnight snorted. You ruined another pencil.

Twilight blinked. Her eyes focused in on what was once the pencil’s eraser, and a dejected sigh escaped her as she saw the eviscerated wooden stump. She threw it into the pile with the others before opening a desk drawer and pulling out a replacement. Luckily, whoever had used this office before her had practiced a level of office supply preparation bordering past obsessive. She stuck the pencil into the sharpener as she continued her presentation.

“It was most prominent around Canterlot at first, so the going theory was that the changelings were the source, but nobody could find a way to stop the spread.” She pulled the freshly-sharpened pencil out, pointing at a map of Equestria heavily annotated by her notes. “Corruption-related incidents happened all around Equestria with increasing severity up to the date of the flood, which seems to have happened only—” she grimaced, looking down at her notes “—two months after my capture.”

Blaming yourself again, little flower?

Twilight shook her head with a quiet sniffle. “I should’ve been there. They needed me.”

It is not the fault of the strong that the weak should perish. Midnight’s voice was sweet in Twilight’s head, the warmth only partially concealing an underpinning of pride. Why should a manticore mourn the passing of insects?

Twilight sucked in a deep breath, gritting her teeth and willing the thick red tears back as she turned to the three names written under the timeline. “Princess Luna disappeared during a research expedition to the Everfree three weeks after the wedding. My current theory is a self-induced dream coma once she realized she’d been infected by the corruption.” Twilight’s eyes flicked to the side, meeting Midnight’s toothy smile with silent accusation.

Don’t look at me. You know I had no involvement in any of that. We belong to each other and none else, my sweet.

Twilight shivered as she turned back to her notes. “Shiny’s journal mentions every thestral in the Guard disappearing around the same time. No indicators as to why or where they may have gone. His journal also mentions Princess Cadance leading a mission to the Frozen North on Celestia’s behalf just a week later. None of the newspapers here mention her return. It’s… probable that she also fell to the corruption.”

She does strike me as the weakest of the set, Midnight mused. I expect we’ll find her body.

Twilight’s voice hitched as she slid her pencil over to a photo, a black-and-white portrait of a bruised Shining Armor she’d cut out of a newspaper. “W-we know that Shiny—” she bit her lip, hesitating over the next word “—died during an attempted rescue mission in Canterlot just a week before the flood.”

Midnight was silent as Twilight’s magic wrapped around the journal, revealing a page conspicuously empty of notes. A wallet-sized photo of Princess Celestia, a mass-produced thing pilfered from the magically preserved filing cabinet, was pinned at the top. Even with the faded colors, Twilight felt her pulse quicken at the sight.

Beneath the photo was a form, one of many she’d found in a folder detailing official correspondence between the office of the Stalliongrad Premier and the subcommittees that ran the city. It was dated to just a day before the flood, the day when all the newspapers stopped printing and ponies all around the underground vault had written their deepest fears in their private diaries.

The message was short, to the point, and it sent a shiver down Twilight’s spine every time she read it.

Princess Celestia has vanished. We are on our own.

Author's Notes:

Princess Celestia would do anything for Equestria. She'd do anything for her little ponies.

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XIII: Of Bonds

She wouldn’t leave us. She wouldn’t.

Twilight floated through the drowned avenues of Stalliongrad, suspended in a glowing orb of lavender magic. She scanned the half-buried alleys and the leaning rooftops, her eyes darting between flickers of movement at the corners of her vision.

You yourself found the message. What cause would the Premier have to lie to her own government?

Midnight had elected against projecting herself onto the physical realm for the moment, its cold, almost mocking voice echoing in Twilight’s head. Despite this, Twilight could clearly see an image of her dark passenger reclined in the sunlit reading nook of her old study, an untitled book laying ignored on the desk.

I don’t know! Maybe it was some kind of power play. Or maybe—she must have been misinformed. The Princess wouldn’t abandon Equestria.

Midnight hummed down at her book with faux contemplation. Is it really Equestria that you’re so concerned about?

Twilight drew up short. Wisps of red energy drifted from her bubble as she fixed Midnight with a tight-lipped scowl. Of course it is! Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve suffered—all of it’s for Equestria!

True, yes. Midnight looked up, meeting Twilight’s mental glare with her own bloodshot eyes. But this denial of yours only seems to appear when Celestia does.

Twilight grit her teeth. The butterflies in her chest fluttered about in panic as the pressure around them began to build. What exactly are you trying to say?

Don’t play dumb with me, little flower, Midnight scoffed. Your foalish worship for your princess does little more than leave us unfocused and vulnerable. We should be focused on feeding ourselves, not mewling over dead alicorns.

“She isn’t dead!”

A wave of energy burst from Twilight’s horn, slamming into the water outside her shield and obscuring the city in a rush of bubbling heat. The ruins groaned around them, disturbed by the sudden change in pressure, and for several seconds Twilight hovered perfectly still, listening to the distant thuds of displaced rubble sinking down to the streets.

Midnight’s soft chuckle echoed between Twilight’s ears. Your actions prove my words true, sweet blossom.

Don’t call me that! Twilight snapped, her chest heaving. It’s your constant prodding and mocking that’s doing this! If you’d just give it a rest then maybe I’d be able to focus for once!

Curious that the prodding works best when Celestia is involved, isn’t it?

Twilight let out a frustrated scream as she pushed herself deeper into the ruins, her eyes scanning her surroundings without really seeing. You’re insufferable! What is it that you get out of this?

I seek only our own improvement. It’s never my wish to hurt you, little flower. Midnight’s lips parted, revealing a bloodstained smile. We have only each other, after all. Sometimes the truth hurts, but do we not always seek the truth?

We do, Twilight admitted. Thick red tears began to well in her vision, obscuring the colorless ruins before her. And that’s what we’re doing! We’ll find more clues in the Frozen North, and then we’ll have a better idea of what happened, but we shouldn’t jump to conclusions!

Twilight, have I ever lied to you?

Twilight drew up short. It was the first time she could remember the twisted facsimile of her voice uttering her name. Midnight hovered before her, a calm expression on its bloodied face.

What’s wrong? it asked, cocking its head. Did you not want me to call you Twilight, either?

I… Twilight found her thoughts wandering as she stared into her own eyes, seeing herself in the reflection. She looked just like Midnight now, didn’t she? You’ve… you’ve tried tricking me before.

Midnight gave a soft smile, but shook its head. When?

When you killed Philomena. You tried to make me sleep.

You were exhausted. Midnight’s voice was warm, lacking its usual edge. But I handled the creature, didn’t I? As I promised you I would.

Twilight grit her teeth, looking away as blood traced familiar paths over her cheeks. But I didn’t want you to! It was wrong!

Perhaps. But did I lie?

Twilight squeezed her eyes shut, throwing herself back into her memories. Surely there must have been one time when her dark passenger had lied to her? It had been in the back of her head for weeks now, whispering into her ears, pushing her to violence and trying to manipulate her…

But to her horror, she couldn’t think of a single lie it had ever told. It had always been honest with her, perhaps even to a fault. Wouldn’t it have been easier for it to wrest control from her if it had presented itself differently? If it had tried to fool her perceptions and fill her head with treacherous falsehoods?

No. Twilight licked her dry lips, opening her eyes and meeting Midnight’s steady gaze. No, you’ve never lied to me.

Then you know I speak truth, Midnight continued. I’m the voice in the back of your head, Twilight. I cannot lie to you anymore than you can lie to yourself.

A soft sob escaped Twilight. The endless expanse of the ocean rumbled around her, uncaring. It’s not fair.

Don’t take it personal, my sweet, Midnight cooed, brushing an invisible hoof along Twilight’s cheek. Twilight flinched away at first, but the chill was oddly comforting to her. Even one as powerful as Celestia cannot surmount every threat that might oppose her. We can be stronger. We must strive to be so.

“She wouldn’t leave me.” Twilight shook her head, speaking in a quiet whimper. “Rarity saw her; she’s still alive. If I can just find her…”

In time, perhaps. For now, we must hunt. The cold, ghostly pressure of Midnight’s touch drew away, and Twilight looked up to see it floating before her, scanning the settling ruins. Weakness will invite danger, and we haven’t eaten in two days. This distraction has already gone on for too long.

Twilight bit her lip as a red tear fell from her chin, sizzling against the shield below. “I d-don’t want to—kill something.”

Midnight turned, looking back over its shoulder at her with eyes narrowed. We ate half a changeling just last week. Are we not over this?

“It’s different!” Twilight snapped, looking up with sudden heat. “We didn’t kill that changeling!”

Midnight cocked its head. And? We scavenged its body while its blood was still warm. It paused, looking away in thought. Though you insisted on draining the corpse before we ate. I’d like to keep the blood this time.

“How can you possibly not understand?” Twilight asked. “These fangs, these eyes, eating the flesh of another creature—I hate it, but I can bear it. A body doesn’t feel any pain. But to kill another living being just so I can survive? It’s monstrous!” She tried to stomp a hoof, but the effect was diminished by the lack of solid ground underneath her. “Who’s to say that my life is more important than that of any other?”

Midnight arched a brow. Us, obviously. Would you rather starve? When we’ve come so far?

Twilight’s whole body was shaking. She couldn’t deny its argument. Some part of her had known that this day would come ever since she first gave in, first bit into the meat of a changeling deep in the bowels of Canterlot, but she had hoped it wouldn’t be today. She had hoped it would never be today, that she would always find some way around it, some way to sustain herself without having to face that undefeatable fact of her cursed existence—she needed meat, and nothing was going to surrender its own flesh without a fight.

“I—” She paused as a sob interrupted her. “Okay. But I h-have conditions.” She winced at the piteous tone of her own voice.

Midnight regarded her with curiosity. Name them.

“First, it has to be a fish,” Twilight began. “No seaponies—o-or any other mammals.”

Midnight narrowed its eyes. An odd stipulation, but if it appeases you, then so be it.

Twilight nodded, her voice growing stronger after the small victory. “And we’ll be sure to clean it properly.” She shivered as she spoke the next words. “If I’m going to k-kill something, then I’ll do it with minimal w-waste.”

Efficiency is always a noble goal. Midnight nodded. Is there a third?

“N-no.” Twilight took a deep breath, calming herself. “Just those two. We can hunt, but we’ll do it—” she bit her lip, looking away “—ethically.”

She could feel the smirk on Midnight’s face, but mercifully, it didn’t call her out on her word choice. Very well. Let us return to the hunt, then. We will have to look harder if seapony is forbidden to us.

Relief washed over Twilight, followed immediately by a wave of nausea. There was nothing to be proud about; one way or another, some creature was about to die because of her.

But it was necessary. She had to survive so that she could follow the clues, find Celestia, save her friends and restore Equestria. The death of an ocean creature was such a small obstacle to get caught up on in the face of all the good it would enable.

It was too easy. Her shiverings grew stronger as she reminded herself that what she had committed to was not the right decision. No, violence upon another living being could never be right. But it could be necessary, and a small wrong choice now would allow her to make greater right choices in the future.

Perhaps she was surrendering her soul, but how could she not pay such a price when it meant she could set the world back to how it should be?

She needed to stop wasting time and energy.

You are just adorable, Midnight said. Are you done?

Twilight sighed. I suppose I am.

It was at that moment that a shadow passed overhead. Or rather, the lavender glow of Twilight’s magic, which previously had dissipated into the greyscale of the pitch-black ocean around her, was suddenly being reflected back at her from above. She looked up, eyes widening as she took in the glimmering mass moving above her, and after a brief shock she finally figured out what it was.

A school of fish was swimming above her, their scales catching her magic and twisting it into twinkling patterns with the flutter of their tails. They danced among each other in a captivating display, each fish in perfect sync with its neighbors, each one unmarred by the bloody signs of corruption that had seemed so omnipresent on the ocean floor.

That, Midnight observed, is extremely convenient.

Twilight’s ears flicked at the warbling screech of a seapony, and her open-mouthed awe turned to horror as she watched a trio of the monsters suddenly swim into view, diving in amongst the fish and staining the water red.

“No!” She jumped into motion almost without thinking, teleporting into the middle of the school with a burst of magic. The fish scattered around her, and she found herself in the middle of an unbroken sphere of glittering scales as the three bloodthirsty seaponies turned to face her.

She hesitated, and they lashed out with their wild, haunting screams in her ears. She countered with magic, striking them with a wall of arcane force that sent the trio spiraling away with strangled shouts of alarm.

For a few seconds she lost sight of them among the swirling, panicked motion of the fish, but the school was quick to flee, and soon they had left Twilight behind, alone against the three glaring monsters.

Twilight blinked, and Midnight was in front of her. “Begone, mongrels! This is our meal!”

The seaponies hissed, flinching backwards as if struck, and backed away. When Twilight floated closer, they gave more ground. The three ponies swam around in circles, their ghostly shrieks filling the water.

Twilight kept her eyes trained on them as she backed away, guiding herself towards the school of fish with magic pings. The seaponies held her gaze with hateful glares, but made no attempt to close the gap. Once she’d satisfied herself that they wouldn’t follow, she turned back to the fish, following in their wake.

Twilight looked to Midnight curiously. What was that?

They were trying to steal food from us, and I asserted our strength, Midnight spat. Not a hard concept even for you to grasp, I would think.

Twilight ignored the jab, pressing on. But you warned them. You scared them off.

Midnight stiffened, looking away. What’s your point, little flower?

A small smile tugged at the corner of Twilight’s lips as she turned to the beautiful display before her. You could’ve just killed them.

She followed the school in silence for several long minutes, marveling at the way her hornlight reflected on their scales. What species were they? It had been a long time since she’d read anything on marine biology, and she couldn’t recall the exact name, but she was fairly certain they were a coastal species. But what would coastal fish be doing so far from shallow waters?

Twilight only barely noticed the ruins fading away around her, giving way to open ocean once more. She cast a simple spell to check her heading, and was pleased to find the fish were heading mostly north. Occasionally she would see seaponies watching in the distance as if sizing up the school and its odd guardian, but none of them made any move against her.

I don’t like hurting things.

Twilight jumped, having nearly forgotten about Midnight in her reverie, but said nothing. She could feel it mulling over its words inside her, and was loathe to shatter the fragile peace she’d found with fresh argument.

It’s just… the best way to deal with threats. Midnight paused, and Twilight wasn’t sure if it was thinking or hoping for a response. When something threatens us, or our friends, I eliminate it. It is an act of necessity.

And those seaponies weren’t threatening us? Twilight hovered closer, catching a single fish in her magic and bringing it into her air bubble—being careful to bring a pocket of water along with it. She held it up to her eye, her muzzle scrunching up as she wracked her memory. Threadfin, maybe?

Their destruction was not necessary, Midnight said curtly, remaining unseen. If they had attacked again, I would have ended them in an instant. Warning them first was just… more efficient.

Ah, yes. Of course. Twilight took a deep breath as she watched the fish swim frantic circles in its little sphere of water. Could a fish feel fear, she wondered? Either way, it would be needlessly cruel for her to confine it any longer. She wrapped a tendril of magic around its body, holding it still. With a single thought she could crush its skull and put it out of its misery.

But she could do that at any time, couldn’t she? She could wait a little longer. If that’s alright with you?

If it helps you. There was a brief pause, and then Midnight added in a stern voice, But we mustn't tarry too long. We must reach the Frozen North without delay.

Right. Twilight nodded as she relinquished her grip on the lone fish, pushing it back into the open ocean and watching it disappear into the shifting kaleidoscope of its friends. Thank you.

What for?

For compromise. It doesn’t mean you’re weak, you know.

Midnight’s only answer was a low growl, and Twilight didn’t push the matter further.

Jab, cut, spin, kick. Wince.

Rainbow grit her teeth. She ignored the complaints from her back muscles as she returned to the starting position, her wings spread and the blades fastened tightly to her feathers.

Jab, cut, spin—slip. Growl.

Sabre had warned her against starting practice so soon after the fight with the changeling, but what did she know? Rainbow’s knowledge of her own body was intimate, a thing developed over years of rigorous training and dozens of injuries. Sure, she’d never been in the hospital for excessive blood loss before—most of her extensive experience was with blunt trauma—but she knew when she was ready to get off bed rest. Or at least she knew when she was ready enough that it wouldn’t cause any further damage, despite the protests of whichever doctor might be supervising her.

Jab, cut, spin, kick—and her hooves flew past the target without making contact. Tail flick.

There wasn’t a doctor on the Argo anymore. In some ways, Rainbow blamed herself, even if it made no sense. How could she have known there was a changeling aboard when none of the other crew members did? But she had been the one to find the body. She had been the one flying laps on the lower levels in the middle of the night. If anypony was going to save Dusty Tome from that changeling, shouldn’t it have been her?

She shook her head and got back into position. That wasn’t the kind of thinking she wanted. That was the kind of thinking that a mare did when she was trapped in a bed, strapped down with wires and brought three meals a day because she was too weak to get them herself. She was a mare of action, and she sought out the soothing repetition of practice precisely because she didn’t want that thinking. If Sabre wouldn’t train her today out of some misguided worry over reopening wounds, she’d do it herself.

Jab, cut, spin, kick. Impact, but off center. She hissed at the pulsing pain that raced up her leg, nearly sending her to the floor, but caught herself just in time. Straightening up with an annoyed groan, she found herself facing the door to Twilight’s room.

She’d pushed herself hard today. The sheen of sweat stuck to her coat. She turned and grabbed a mug in one wingtip, lifting it to her lips and chugging down three big gulps of water.

Maybe it was time for a quick break.

With another sip, Rainbow stepped up to the thin metal door, gently nudging it open. Princess Luna was sound asleep in the bed that Twilight hadn’t used in almost two weeks, her face as peaceful as if she were napping in a woodland glade, with only the chirp of birdsong and the rustling of the leaves to lull her instead of the constant ticking of the walls and the deep, pulsing thrum of the engines. Opposite her was Twilight’s desk, the books and papers left neatly organized just as she had left them when they first arrived at Altalusia.

Rainbow approached the desk cautiously. She knew the chance of her waking the princess was slim, but it still felt wrong to stomp about in her presence. There was a certain reverence for the desk itself, as well. Twilight had left these things where they were for a reason, and she would probably be happy to see them undisturbed if she came back.

When she came back.

Rainbow’s eye passed over the assorted texts with a vague curiosity. What was it that Twilight had spent so many long hours reading in this little room, locked away while her friends fussed over her outside? Thick history books were stacked up under the desk tall enough to act almost as like a fifth leg, and much of the metal surface was hidden behind books held open by paperweights to pages full of mind-numbing text. She picked one book at random and flipped it closed: Callus’s Classified Collections on Chiroptera.

She arched a brow. A bat-shaped silhouette graced the cover, giving her at least some hint as to the book’s contents. She opened it back to the marked page and reached for another book, but this one had no title. The cover was a plain, unbroken purple.

With a deep breath, Rainbow opened the book once more and decided to try her mind at the words within.

Dream Journal, 4th of June, 673 Anno Caeli, 3:01 AM

I’m sinking again. The water is cold, and I can’t open my mouth to breathe even though my lungs burn. I settle onto the ocean floor and I find myself in the ruins of the Golden Oaks Library. Owloysius is there again, as well as the Griffon and a new character who I believe might be Philomena. It’s difficult to remember clearly.

The Other was there, too. It watches from outside, peering into the window with glowing eyes. I can’t tell if it takes any satisfaction out of watching me beg for mercy while the Griffon cuts my horn off.

There’s not much more to record. I don’t think the specifics of my babbling are particularly significant, and the Griffon’s song is the same as previous entries. I wake up covered in cold sweat, twisted in my sheets. The silence spell has kept my friends from hearing me, thankfully, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to return to—

Rainbow slammed the book shut and took a step back, shooting a guilty look towards first the open door, and then Princess Luna. The ship tick-tocked away in the background.

She’d just read her best friend’s dream journal.

Rainbow shook her head, rushing out of the room and shutting the door behind her. She’d known Twilight was having nightmares; silence spells or not, Twilight’s magic hadn’t been able to hide the jumpiness, the extra cups of tea, or the heavy bags hanging under her eyes in the mornings. Still, to actually read a first-hoof account…

A shiver ran down Rainbow’s spine, followed by a flare of anger as she remembered how Applejack had argued to give their friend the space she requested. They should’ve pressed harder!

She groaned, banging her head against the nearest wall. “Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Twilight had needed them, and they’d let themselves be pushed away, and now they might not ever get her back again!

She jumped at the sudden hiss of steam behind her. She turned just in time to watch Star Trails step into the cargo hold, smoothing down her drab-green uniform with a hoof.

“H-hey, Trails!” Rainbow gave a weak smile. “What’s up?”

Trails looked over the pegasus with a bemused smile. “Have you been practicing on your own? Even after Sabre told you not to?”

“Hey, I’m good enough for practice!” Rainbow shot back, standing up. “And it’s just some light exercise, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

Trails shrugged. “Whatever, Dash. You’re the one with super magic healing powers, I guess. Where’s your uniform?”

Rainbow cocked her head. “You mean the ugly one that made Rarity vomit?”

Trails nodded. “Yeah, that one. Find it and put it on. We’ve lucked out, so it looks like we won’t have to go all the way to Alton after all.”

Rainbow perked up at that. Anything that wasted less time was good news as far as she was concerned. “What happened?”

“We spotted a merchant lord’s fleet on the horizon,” Trails said. “Prince Silverblood’s, assuming he hasn’t been usurped in the last few years.”

Rainbow snorted. “Prince Silverblood?”

Trails rolled her eyes. “Hey, once you hit a certain level of rich you can call yourself whatever you want and most ponies follow along. But c’mon, get dressed. We’re getting boarded soon, and you need to look like you’re on Crazy’s payroll.”

It only took Rainbow a couple minutes to ready herself: one to put away her wingblades, ten seconds to quickly brush her coat, fifty seconds to find where she had tossed the wrinkled uniform off to, and another ten to actually put it on. Soon the two mares were walking through the halls of the lower level, Trails leading the way while Rainbow peered through the windows in search of the supposed fleet they would be meeting with.

“Where is it?” she asked. “I don’t see anything.”

“That’s cause the ship’s pointed at it,” Trails said as they approached the door to Flint’s quarters. “Say, do you know where AJ is?”

“She wasn’t hanging out in the galley with Flint?” Rainbow asked. “Or checking the pipes with Sunfeather, maybe?”

“Sunfeather’s on the bridge with Sabre, and I didn’t see Flint anywhere. I figure he’s probably taking a nap.” She raised a hoof and pounded on the door to his room. “Hey, Flint! Get out of bed, big guy! We’re expecting visitors!”

There was a heavy thud from within the room, and both Trails and Rainbow let out muted giggles at the sound of his deep-voiced grumbling muffled by the door. Then a second, higher voice joined in.

The door cracked open, revealing a squinting, hatless Applejack. “Y’all raised in a barn, Trails? Cause if I didn’t know any better I’d think ya had two hundred apple trees in need of buckin’ by sundown.”

Trails blinked. “Uhm.”

“AJ!” Rainbow hissed, leaning in. She frowned as the scent of alcohol wafted out of the room. “What the hay?”

“I ain’t gotta explain myself to ya, Dash.” Applejack rolled her eyes. “Now did y’all need somethin’?”

“Well, uh, we found a ship we can dock with and resupply. Sabre wants us all up and uniformed to be boarded, so.” Trails looked away, a soft blush on her cheeks. “Pass the message on, I guess.”

“I heard ye!” Flint called from deeper in the room. “Just cause I’m a bit tipsy don’t mean I’m deaf!”

“Great. Great.” Trails nudged Rainbow with a leg as she turned away. “We should go.”

“Whoa, just hang on, will you?” Rainbow hadn’t looked away from Applejack’s exasperated gaze. “What are you doing over here?”

“Rainbow Dash, I am an adult.”

“But Flint? Really?”

“Still ain’t deaf!” Flint called.

“Y’all can hush.” Applejack looked over her shoulder for only a moment before turning back to Rainbow. “We can talk about this tonight, ya hear? Promise. But for now, we’ll be seein’ y’all on the bridge.”

Rainbow flinched as the door snapped closed in her face, the thud followed shortly by the click of the lock. She looked up to Trails, mouth hanging open, but couldn’t find any words.

“Not my business,” Trails said, starting down the hall at a brisk trot. “Not. My. Business!”

Ten minutes later, the crew were all assembled on the bridge. Sunfeather stood in her usual spot on the control dias, hooves idly resting on her levers while Rainbow and the others gathered around Sea Sabre on the upper level.

“Now we’re all here—our previous plans to resupply at Alton are no longer necessary,” she said. “We’ve been fortunate enough to cross paths with Lord Silverblood’s homeship on its way back south, and he’ll likely be willing to trade supplies in exchange for written promises of payment from Mr. Rich. We’ve flagged him down, and there’s a picket ship en route now to inspect us before we dock.”

Rainbow’s eye kept shifting sideways, to Applejack and Flintlock beside her. Had they always stood so close together? Her depth perception was all but gone with only one eye, and she couldn’t quite tell if they were brushing shoulders or keeping a more normal distance. She’d seen them getting familiar over cider and stories, sure, but she’d never thought the two would… share a bed together. Though if the way Applejack kept her eyes firmly forwards was any indication, she was unwilling to discuss it.

“This presents two problems for us,” Sabre continued. “First, there’s the potential for you two being pressed into his service. A merchant prince like him will have several Gifted under his control already, some of which will be on the ship, and they’re always looking to gain more. If he’s heard of you—and with how long it’s been since you arrived, he almost certainly has—then he might try something.”

“He can try.” Rainbow puffed herself up, her jaw clenching at the idea of some arrogant pony trying to imprison her or her friend. “Wouldn’t be the first time I have to deal with a bounty hunter.”

“It shouldn’t come to that,” Sabre said, fixing Rainbow with her stern red gaze. “For the duration of this visit, you’ll present yourselves as employees of Mr. Rich. He does a lot of business with a lot of ponies, and Silverblood will be less likely to mess with what he sees to be the property of one of his peers.”

“Makes sense,” Applejack said.

Sabre nodded. “Just keep your heads down, don’t do anything to stand out more than you already will, and do as I say.” She turned back to Rainbow with the last few words. “You’re supposed to be under my command, and ponies might start asking questions if you keep ignoring my orders.”

“I understand.” Rainbow straightened up, meeting Sabre’s eyes with a steady expression of her own. She thought back to the lecture Sabre had given her after she woke up, wounded from her fight with the changeling. “I… I won’t let you down.”

“Good. As for the second problem,” Sabre said, “we have an alicorn aboard, and this isn’t a smuggling ship.” She paused, letting the words sink in. “If any of you have suggestions about where to hide her, now’s the time.”

“Hide ’er?” Flint echoed. “Th’ mare’s huge! It’d be hard enough t’ hide me!”

“Maybe we could pull up a grate and squeeze her between some pipes?” Trails suggested. “Or we could put her in the envelope.”

“Didn’t ye hear what I said, Traily?” Flint shook his head. “Even if we found a gap big enough fer ‘er, she’d probably burn up against all th’ pipin’. And th’ envelope—which is full of holes, mind ye—is th’ first place they’ll look.”

“Can we just leave her in Twilight’s room?” Applejack asked, frowning. “Rich’s got a good reputation, right? Maybe they won’t look too hard as long as we give a good impression.”

Sabre shook her head. “Not worth the risk. That should only be our last resort.”

Rainbow perked up, clapping her hooves together with an excited grin. “I’ve got it! We can put her in my room!”

Flint arched a brow. “Yer cloud room? Won’t she just fall through?”

Trails rolled her eyes. “She’s an alicorn, you buffoon. Hay, half the pictures of her have her standing on a cloud.”

“So?” Flint countered, shooting a sideways glare at the unicorn. “They’re pictures! Ye think th’ ponies that make ’em know all there is t’ know about alicorns?”

“No, Trails is right,” Applejack said. She put a calming hoof on Flint’s shoulder, ignoring the frown it brought to Rainbow’s face. “The Princess’ll be fine up on those clouds. The question is how we get her up there.”

Rainbow waved a hoof in the air nonchalantly. “Pfft, no problem! I’ll just fly her up. It’ll take me five seconds, tops!”

Applejack arched a brow, fixing the pegasus with a skeptical look. “Rainbow, that mare’s twice your size, and you’re still hurtin’ on top of that. Ain’t no way ya can lift her up there all on your own.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rainbow flapped her wings, taking flight with only a slight wince. “Just watch me!”

As it turned out, Rainbow realized several minutes later, Princess Luna actually was just a bit too heavy for her to lift.

She couldn’t even get the alicorn’s hooves off the ground. No matter how hard she flapped, how loud she grunted, or how long she talked herself up, the sleeping princess wouldn’t budge, and all her back muscles were on fire from the exertion.

Then Applejack had pursed her lips, taken a look up at the ceiling, and asked Flint to fetch her some rope.

With two earth ponies, a firm knot, and a makeshift pulley made by Rainbow threading the rope over a thick pipe running over her little cloudhome, they managed to hoist Princess Luna up into the air. Rainbow had been forced to form a temporary hole in her floor for the Princess to fit through, and after great effort and several complaints, the job was done.

Rainbow leaned against the fluffy bulk of her bed, letting out a relieved sigh before calling down, “There! Problem solved.”

“Good!” Sabre called back. “Now get back down here! They’ll be coming aboard any minute!”

“Right, right! Just a sec!” Rainbow grinned as she took a moment to admire the result of her labor. Princess Luna was splayed out on the floor at the base of her bed, her expression no less serene despite the awkward twist to her limbs. She stepped up and rolled the Princess into a more comfortable position before giving a little nod. That would do for now, and then they could put her back in Twilight’s room once they were back on their way.

Wait. Rainbow blinked, stiffening in sudden alarm. What if they want to leave her up here?

Ah, ponyfeathers.

“Hmm.”

Rarity’s reflection pouted back at her as she held up first one scarf, then another. The chill in the air had grown more prominent over the past three days, and even with every window tied shut and the fire crackling in the hearth downstairs she’d been reluctant to leave the warm embrace of her bedsheets. But she’d been feeling rather cramped staying inside discussing strategy with Whitehorn, and today was Sunday. The Commoner’s Guild would be holding their primary meeting for the week, and she had every intent to attend—after she sorted her outfit out, of course.

She had thought long over precisely what impression she wanted to impart. She didn’t want to wear a dress, for if her experience with Applejack was any indication workhorses tended to look down upon proper fashion. She wanted to appear familiar, approachable, but not so much so that she would be dismissed as just another mare. She had to carefully thread the needle between being pretentiously outstanding and being forgettably common. She wanted to present herself as a noble, but she must also appear truly sympathetic to the concerns of the commoner.

Luckily, the weather had done some of the thinking for her. She wore a cloak of striking burgundy, the hood trimmed with wispy white wool, over the very sort of drab brown jerkin that appeared popular among the working class. Of course she had taken the time to embroider the simple cloth with some more vibrant colors and intricate patterns, but she hoped nopony would mind as long as she didn’t go too far with the personal enhancements.

All that was left was to choose a scarf. The chiffon matched the trim on her hood quite well, but she was always partial to any shade of purple that complemented her mane.

“My Lady?” Pontius called from out in the hall. “Are ye ready yet?”

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to rush a lady, Pontius?” Rarity called back, turning to face the door.

A few seconds passed before he answered. “It’ll be getting dark, my Lady. If we don’t depart soon th’ meeting might be over by th’ time we arrive.”

With a dramatic sigh, Rarity muttered, “Oh, very well then.” She reached out with her magic, pulling the door open and brandishing her two scarves. “I require your assistance, my sweet. Do you think I should go with the chiffon, or the mulberry?”

Pontius blinked. His eyes darted from one to the other.

Rarity rolled her eyes. “Chiffon. Mulberry.” She gave a soft shake to each respective scarf as she named them.

“The… chiffon.” Pontius let out a sigh of relief as Rarity gave a little nod and wrapped the chosen apparel around her neck. “It matches the wool of yer hood quite well.”

“Oh, my.” Rarity giggled as she levitated the remaining scarf back into her luggage. “Perhaps I’ll make a fashionista of you, yet.”

Pontius answered her with an uncertain smile. “But I’m a stallion, my Lady.”

“Oh, pfft!” Rarity scoffed as she stepped out into the hall and closed the bedroom door behind her. “It’s a gender-neutral term, darling. Did the others send you to check on me? I wasn’t taking too long, was I?”

Descending the stairs, Rarity greeted Pinkie Pie and Whitehorn waiting patiently in the common room with a bright smile. They had pushed the table aside to make more room for pillows around the hearth, the bluecoat keeping watch from the kitchen area eyeing the flames with obvious envy. Whitehorn was wearing a short cloak over his vest, the sleeves of his shirt unrolled for once, and Pinkie had a cherry red shawl draped over her shoulders for warmth.

“Oh, she’s finally ready!” Pinkie pushed herself up off the cushion she’d been lying on with an energetic wave. “Rarity! I hope you’re ready to make some new friends!”

“And new connections,” Whitehorn added, dipping his head in greeting.

“I just hope it’s not too late,” Rarity said with a sigh. “It seems every day there’s a little more venom in the eyes of every Frieslander I pass.”

Pontius grunted as he took up a spot by the fire, his polished breastplate catching the flickering yellow light. “I don’t see what help ye hope to get from commoners. They hold no power t’ accomplish anything.”

“Perhaps not officially, no,” Rarity said, looking to Whitehorn with a hopeful smile. “But a wise pony once told me that pressure flows both ways.”

Whitehorn returned the smile warmly. “You’re too kind, Countess.”

Pontius stepped between them, clearing his throat intently as he nodded towards the door. “Well, seeing as all preparations seem t’ be made, best we set forth before dusk.”

He reached for the door, only to flinch back as Captain Piaffe barreled through it from the other side, narrowly missing his muzzle.

“Apologies, Pontius.” Piaffe smiled a greeting around the room, taking her hat off with a flourish. “You lot about to head out? Commoner’s Guild, yes?”

Rarity nodded. “We discussed the escort and curfew yesterday, no?”

“We did, but I’m afraid there’s been a slight change of plans.” Piaffe hung her coat by the door, exposing the ruffled white shirt underneath and the small saddlebag tied close to her side, and made for the liquor cabinet as she spoke. “New orders, you see. I’m only to let you out two at a time from now on.”

Pontius was the first to react, his voice hard. “And what exactly have we done t’ deserve such restriction?”

“You’re asking the wrong mare, love.” Piaffe shrugged before pulling a bottle out of the cabinet and pouring its clear contents into a glass. “I just follow orders. If I had to guess I’d say that Governor Rhea’s concerned for your well-being. There’s an awful lot of ill will towards baronlanders floating around right now, and the best way to avoid any incidents is to ensure you’re well guarded.”

Rarity let out an unladylike snort. “Or well watched, you mean?”

“Don’t take it personal, Countess. Every precaution must be taken in times such as these.” Piaffe settled onto a cushion near the table with a relieved sigh. “You could put on a blue coat and kill a dozen baronlanders, and I doubt it’d make any difference.”

Rarity’s tail flicked behind her. “I wasn’t aware I was such an untrustworthy mare.”

Piaffe smirked as she poured the clear liquid into her glass. “It’s not that you’re untrustworthy, love. We just aren’t very trusting.”

Rarity pursed her lips, but said nothing. After the deadly attack on the city two days ago, she couldn’t really blame the Frieslanders for being suspicious of her party. That airship hadn’t hijacked itself, after all, and Rarity still hadn’t told anyone but Pinkie about the brief sight of Gava and Ana escaping just seconds before the blast. She’d meant to speak to Whitehorn about it, but she’d been unable to get him alone without a bluecoat within earshot.

They were still out there, somewhere, playing some game that she couldn’t understand. What did they get out of terrorizing a city under siege? Had they given up on chasing her and her friends? And when would they strike next?

“I do have some good news, however.” Piaffe reached a hoof into her saddlebag, pulling out a trio of scrolls. Two of them were sealed with red wax marked with the pike-and-shield crest of Duke Titus, but Rarity barely noticed them laying next to the third scroll, the parchment tied shut with strands of long pink hair.

Pontius’ hard frown faltered as he saw the letters. “Correspondence from my father?”

“And from Fluttershy!” Pinkie giggled gleefully as she rushed forwards, hooking the scroll on the tip of her forelock. With a shake of her head the scroll unfurled, and her eyes darted left to right across the message within as she hummed a cheery tune.

Pontius and Whitehorn picked up their respective letters as well, each of them shooting confused glances at the pink mare, while Rarity moved to Pinkie’s side with nervous relief.

“Dear friends,

“I’m glad to hear that you’re all still safe inside the city. We saw the explosion from here in the camp, and we were all so worried that you might have been hurt! I’m so sorry that I wasn’t able to write sooner, but Brownie and I have been so busy ever since the attack on the camp. We’re being careful not to overdo it, so please don’t worry about us. I’d hate to distract you from your important business with the Governor.”

Rarity snorted, a small smile tugging at her lips. It was just like Fluttershy to be more concerned about distracting others with danger to herself than she was about the actual danger.

“I hope you’re able to make a breakthrough soon. More ponies are hurt every day, and we work so hard to make them better, but sometimes they just get come back hurt again. Or worse.

“I’m seeing so many terrible things, girls, but I don’t feel anything. It scares me, but I’m doing my best to be strong. I feel more useful here than I have in a long time.”

The smile turned to a frown. It was a cruel irony that Fluttershy, the softest of all of them, would be the one to find some solace in a tent full of wounded ponies, but there was a part of Rarity that envied her. It would be nice to lay her head to rest every night without the troubling thoughts that plagued her, that it was all hopeless, that she wasn’t making a difference.

Rarity shook her head, closing her eyes. She was making a difference, however slight. With a soft sigh she turned her attention back to the letter.

“Please don’t give up. I don’t want to stress you, but if we fail here then many more ponies are going to get hurt.

“I’d appreciate it if you could keep writing, if you can find the time. I have to go now, but I’ll be thinking of you all.

“Fondly, Fluttershy.”

Rarity let out the breath she’d been holding, feeling much of the tension bottled up inside her melt away. Fluttershy was well, or at least as well as could be expected considering the circumstances. She looked to Pinkie with a wide smile, seeing her own relief beamed back at her in return.

Whitehorn stood up, folding his letter up and slipping it into his shirt pocket. “Good news, fillies?”

A beat passed as Pinkie sucked in a deep breath, belting out her next words in a lilting sing-song. “Fluttershy’s okay! Whoo!”

“What about your letters?” Rarity asked, looking from Whitehorn to Pontius.

Pontius’ eyes flicked up to meet Rarity’s for only a second before returning to the letter, his brow furrowed with consternation. “Nothing unexpected. Th’ Duke clearly thinks we’re wasting our time here. He requests I return t’ his side afore he presses th’ siege.”

Rarity’s smile faltered at the indecision in the young stallion’s voice. “You know I wouldn’t hold it against you if you left, darling.”

He met her gaze, his eyes hardening as he gave a firm shake of his head. “Nay. As long as ye’re willing t’ continue the fight, so shall I.”

Rarity’s smile returned. “That’s very sweet of you, Pontius.”

He nodded, the corner of his lips twitching up in turn.

Whitehorn cleared his throat. “Assuming we’re still planning on attending this evening’s meeting, we really should be going.”

“But only two of you,” Piaffe said. “And you’ll have an escort.”

“Of course.” Whitehorn dipped his head courteously before turning to Rarity expectantly. “I think it’s obvious that the Countess should be one of the attendants. But who shall be your second, my Lady?”

Rarity pursed her lips, looking between her three companions in turn. Pinkie would probably be a priceless asset in a room full of commoners, and could quickly sway any animosity against them based on their class or origins, but there was a chance that the stressed Frieslanders wouldn’t respond well to her particular brand of socializing. Pontius was eager as well, both to impress her and to stop the war, but the son of the very stallion besieging the city was unlikely to be welcome.

Then there was Whitehorn. Polite, well-spoken, and the most seasoned among those present with regards to modern politics. If any of them might be able to walk into a room full of commoners and find the pressure point that would stop this war, it would be him. And maybe she’d finally be able to speak to him without a bluecoat listening in, and see what he thought about Ana and Gava’s presence in the city.

“As much as it pains me to leave you two behind, I think it would be best if Whitehorn accompanies me to the meeting,” she said.

“Aw.” Pinkie kicked a hoof at the floor in dejection. “I wanted to go!”

“Maybe next time, Pinkie.” Rarity drew Pinkie into a quick hug. “Would you be a dear and write a response to Fluttershy for us?”

She brightened up at that. “Oh, okay! I have the perfect thing!” With the clatter of her wheels and a fit of giggling, Pinkie zipped upstairs, leaving only a thin cloud of confetti in her wake.

Rarity turned to Pontius next. “You understand, right?”

“Aye, I understand.” He gave a short nod before starting up the stairs himself. “I’d best write t’ my father. Be careful, my Lady.”

Rarity’s brow furrowed in concern as she watched him ascend the steps, but there was nothing to be done at the moment about any hurt feelings he might have. Instead she started for the door, glancing to Whitehorn as she did. “Shall we depart then, darling?”

“At your pleasure, Countess.”

The wind was picking up as they stepped out into the streets of Friesland, carrying with it the distant scent of smoke and blood from the siege lines. It was early evening, and the sun was just visible above the surrounding buildings, its light broken only by the occasional airship casting a long shadow over the city below. A pair of bluecoats were leaning against a building across the street, and they fell in behind the duo without a word.

So much for getting time alone, Rarity thought, giving the soldiers a small smile. They ignored the expression, the sharpened horns fitted to their helmets gleaming in the sunlight.

The atmosphere of the city was a distant shadow of the warm bustle that had first greeted Rarity at the start of the siege. Gone were the throngs of careless ponies going about their business with little care for the army parked outside their walls; civilian traffic was thin, and what ponies she did see walked at a hurried pace, their eyes sometimes flicking upwards when an airship’s shadow passed overhead. Those who didn’t keep their gazes forwards would glare at Rarity or Whitehorn with undisguised contempt, tails flicking and ears flattening whenever she tried to answer their suspicious gazes with a disarming smile or a dip of her head.

The distant boom of the cannons rolled over them as they passed through the courtyard in the center of the city and turned north, towards the residential district where many of the dockworkers and other laborers lived. The colorful market stalls that had proudly displayed their wares when Rarity came to speak to the governor were mostly gone at this time, with those merchants who still remained so late packing up their goods in tired silence. Opposite the cathedral, a line of ponies were waiting outside the old stone guard tower, filing forwards one at a time to speak to a bluecoat officer at a desk while another watched in silence.

“The pressure is mounting,” Whitehorn observed, leaning in close to be heard over the wind. “That attack has spurred the city into action.”

Rarity pursed her lips, stealing a furtive glance back at the two soldiers trailing them. They were scanning the city with bored disinterest, and far enough back that she doubted they’d be able to hear a quiet conversation over the wind.

Pulse quickening, Rarity stepped close enough to almost brush shoulders with Whitehorn. “I know who did the attack.”

If he was surprised by the information, he did an excellent job of concealing it. “Who?”

“Gava and Ana.” Rarity kept her eyes forwards as she spoke. “I saw them flying away just before the blast.”

“Curious.” A pause. “And nopony else saw?”

“Only Pinkie and I, I believe. We were atop the wall, but everyone else had their eyes turned outwards.” Rarity paused to allow a passing pony to walk out of earshot. “But what do you think they’re up to? What could they possibly have to gain from bombing a city under siege?”

“Hard to say, Countess, though it often is with mercenaries.” Whitehorn narrowed his eyes as the thundering of cannon shot sounded in the distance. “Perhaps they were hired by the barons to pressure the city into surrender. They helped Duchess Nettlekiss in her attack against Titus, after all.”

Rarity grimaced as she thought back to that dark night. Things had finally been looking up, and then they had gone so wrong. “You think they might have turned against her?”

“I think there are many angles many ponies could play here, and we don’t know enough to speculate.” Whitehorn paused, letting out a thoughtful hum. “We could turn this to our advantage, you know.”

Rarity blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Pressure is good for us,” he continued. “We want an end to this conflict, and if the city’s guilds begin to fear for riots or sabotage, then they can pressure Rhea into breaking ties with Nettlekiss and surrendering. There hasn’t been much damage done yet. The barons would likely be satisfied with Nettlekiss’s execution, and would leave the city relatively whole.”

Rarity’s frown deepened. The idea of using such a terrible act to advance her own causes made her feel dirty, but if it would ultimately save lives, perhaps there was some merit to it. “What would we even do?”

Whitehorn shrugged. “For now, bide our time. There are pieces moving on the board, and none of them are ours. With luck, however, we may gain some tonight. Ah, here we are.”

“What, this?” Rarity looked up at the building before them with a skeptical cock of her head. “This looks like a tavern.”

The building did nothing at all to stand out. Amidst an unbroken line of stone-faced storefronts and homes, the only thing unique about the Commoner’s Guild Hall was the lack of any kind of identifying signage to label it as such. It displayed the same squalid stone facade as its neighbors, and the dim-eyed ponies that sometimes trundled through the doorway—though far quieter than drunk bar patrons—wore the same tired and beaten clothing that she’d caught glimpses of through the open windows of taverns.

“Quite sure, yes,” Whitehorn said. “I’ve made a few rounds of the city since we’ve been here, looking for possible allies. This is the place.” He turned to her with a shallow bow, gesturing with a hoof and a smile. “After you, Countess.”

Walking through the open doorway with a measured stride, Rarity found that the guild house looked even more like a tavern on the inside than it did on the outside. If not for the dull-faced ponies seated behind the bar on raised seats or the lonely podium set up in an open space before them, it would’ve been impossible to tell the difference. Square, stone tables were spread evenly around the main room, with most of the guild members seated close to the two hearths burning on either side, their hooves wrapped protectively around clay mugs or bowls, while a set of stairs off to one side led to a second floor above. A solitary serving mare drifted among the members, the bun of her mane threatening to fall apart as she rushed to answer summons, disappearing only briefly into a door behind the bar before emerging once more with fresh food and drink balanced on her back.

Taking all this in, Rarity shot a confused glance towards Whitehorn. “Are you certain this isn’t a bar?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the sudden arrival of River Pie.

“Ye came!” River beamed as she rushed up to Rarity. She stopped a respectful distance away to dip into a quick bow, but she couldn’t quite keep her hooves from fidgeting in excitement. “Twinkle was beginnin’ t’ worry that ye’d brushed us off, but I told ’em! I told ’em ye’d said ye were interested, and Countess Rarity ain’t no liar!”

The mare’s eager energy was more than enough to bring a smile to Rarity’s face, driving her hesitation away. “My apologies that we couldn’t attend sooner, darling. Things have been rather hectic since… you know.”

River nodded, turning away and beckoning with her tail. “Aye, I understand. Come on over here, then. Twinkle ’n I’ve got a table back here.”

Rarity followed with her head high, ignoring the mixture of curiosity and suspicion aimed her way from some of the tables they passed. Glancing back, she saw that only one of the bluecoats had followed them inside, the mare staring down anyone that dared look towards her.

Twinkle Smith and River Pie had a table to themselves near the middle of the room, far from the warmth of the fires but close to the podium. Rarity drew her cloak a little closer as she sat down, noticing for the first time the lack of cushions on the stone, and Whitehorn sat beside her. Their bluecoat escort remained standing, scanning the room with a far more attentive leer than when they’d been out on the street.

“Welcome, Countess!” Twinkle kept his voice low as he stretched a hoof out, and Rarity offered hers up for him to briefly embrace before drawing back. “I hope you aren’t too uncomfortable inside our humble guild hall.”

Rarity answered with a wan smile. “It’s quite charming, really. Er, who are those ponies sitting behind the bar?”

“That’s th’ guild council,” River Pie explained. “Him in th’ middle’s the guildmaster, Mr. Marks. He represents us in matters with th’ other guilds, and casts our vote fer governor durin’ elections.”

“Ah.” Rarity regarded the thick-set earth stallion seated at the center of the bar, on a seat slightly taller than the other four council members. His dull yellow coat was mostly covered by the long grey coat he wore, and he drank out of a glass instead of one of the clay mugs the other guild members used. “So the governor is elected purely by the vote of guild masters?”

“Aye.” River nodded. “I haven’t been in th’ city very long, so I don’t know ’em all yet, but there’s dozens of ’em.”

“Could we speak with him?” Whitehorn asked.

“I’ll see about getting you a meeting,” Twinkle said, pushing the brim of his hat back with a hoof. “It’ll have to be after the general meeting, though. Another hour at least, while the council listens to general petitioners.” He perked up as he saw the serving mare rush past. “Perhaps you’d like a drink?”

“Oh, no thank you, dear.” Rarity did her best to gather her cloak around her for warmth as she settled in for the wait. “I’ll be quite alright.” And that poor mare looks overworked enough as it is.

The hour passed at a snail’s pace, the room growing gradually darker as the sun set outside until only the flickering light of the candles and the fireplace remained. Several ponies rose to the podium, each one rising up from a table, briefly introducing themselves, and then presenting the council with their problems. Many complained of long hours or low pay, and Mr. Marks promised to speak to the appropriate guild masters over the matter. Some discussed dangerous working conditions such as open foundries or unprotected machinery, and again Mr. Marks assured the speakers that he would see to it.

Rarity leaned over to Twinkle Smith as one mare told the story of how she’d lost an ear to the gears of a conveyor belt. “How often are these ponies’ problems actually solved?”

Twinkle shrugged. “Often it’s hit or miss. Mr. Marks does what he can, and sometimes we’ll see results, but not always. We have to choose our battles if we want to get anything done.”

Finally the petitioners ran dry. Most of them left the guild hall shortly after voicing their complaints, and the room was full of empty tables with only a few small parties left in scattered pockets.

The room was silent, and all eyes fell on Mr. Marks as he downed the last of his drink and stood.

“I am calling this meeting of the Commoner’s Guild to a close,” he said. He scanned the room with half-lidded eyes, pausing only briefly on Rarity and Whitehorn before moving on. “We shall convene again on the morrow. Until then—take heart, and work hard. It is our aching limbs that keeps the barons at bay.”

He sat back down with a tired groan, and in the same instant Twinkle Smith shot up out of his seat. “Uh, Mr. Marks!”

Mr. Marks sighed. Around him, the other council members busied themselves with gathering their notes and filing upstairs. “Yes, Mr. Smith?”

“I’ve brought some ponies that need to speak to you!” Twinkle stepped forwards, gesturing towards Rarity and Whitehorn with a hoof. “Countess Rarity of Canterthusia, and Mr. Whitehorn, from Heighton. They wish to lend us aid in our affairs!”

Slowly, Mr. Marks turned to regard Rarity and Whitehorn in turn. Rarity stood, dipping into a quick curtsey, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Whitehorn give a courteous smile.

“Very well, then. You may lead them to my office, Mr. Smith.” Mr. Marks let out a few low grumbles as he slid out of his seat and made for the stairs. The bar hid most of his body at first, but the limp in his gait was obvious even still. The cause became clear once he stepped out into the open—one of his hind legs was missing, the metal stump in its place just visible under the shadow of his low-hanging coat. “But let’s make it quick, eh?”

“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!” Twinkle turned to Rarity with a grin. “Come on, then. Let’s make this count!”

“Good luck, Countess!” River Pie gave an excited wave as the others stood. “I’ll be here, holdin’ th’ table fer ye.”

Rarity frowned. “You aren’t going to come, darling?”

River shook her head. “I’m nothin’ important in th’ guild, Countess. Mr. Marks wouldn’t want me gettin’ in th’ way.”

“Ah, I see.” Rarity gave River a hopeful smile before turning for the stairs. “Well, I shall be sure to fill you in on every detail once we’re done, then. Ta for now!”

The second floor was exactly as Rarity had expected. A single narrow hallway lined on one side with cheap tin doors, it was obvious that the guild council’s offices were just repurposed inn rooms. Mr. Marks’ office was closest to the stairs, and so it only took a brief minute for Rarity, Whitehorn, and Twinkle Smith to follow him inside. Their bluecoat escort attempted to enter as well, only to be deterred by a sharp glare from Mr. Marks as he settled onto the deep cushion behind his desk.

“Alright, then.” He looked between Rarity and Whitehorn in turn. “Cart Marks, master of the Commoner’s Guild. What do you want?”

Rarity exchanged a quick glance with Whitehorn and received an encouraging nod. Rather than take the direct approach, she decided to be more cautious this time. “As our companion here said, I am Countess Rarity, wife to Sir Pontius, son of Duke Titus, who currently leads the baronlander army.” She paused, giving him time to process her words. “How do you feel about the war, Mr. Marks?”

He snorted, reaching under his desk to retrieve a wide bottle of whiskey. “I think if the barons want our city then they’d best be ready to pay in blood, because Friesland is more than ready to toll them.” His lip curled as he raised the bottle to his lips and took a sip. “It’s no wonder they need to resort to bombing granaries, though I hadn’t expected them to stoop so low as to do it with their own diplomats in the city talking of peace.”

Rarity grimaced. “The bombing was certainly a messy affair, but I do believe it’s important to remember that we still don’t know who committed the attack. We should refrain from jumping to conclusions.”

Another snort, another sip. “What other conclusion is there, Countess? Who else has anything to gain from the attack?”

Rarity glanced to Whitehorn, who gave a subtle shake of his head. “Well it’s rather hard to say, but—”

“But nothing! Bah!” Mr. Marks waved a dismissive hoof in the air. “What do you care for it, anyways? Is there some land at stake for you? You nobles are always obsessing over land.”

“Mr. Marks!” Rarity snapped, her ears flicking back against her head. “I am trying to save lives, and your attitude towards me is not helping!”

“You want to save lives?” The stallion shook his head. “Talking isn’t gonna do it. You need to get out there and get your hooves dirty, Countess.”

“Ah, Mr. Marks?” Twinkle Smith raised a hoof, cutting off Rarity’s sharp rebuttal. “The Countess was actually one of the ponies helping at the site of the attack. She’s the Gifted I told you about, if you remember?”

Mr. Marks frowned. He looked to Twinkle, then back to Rarity, his eyes narrowed curiously. “Is that so?”

“It is so,” Whitehorn said. “If there’s a single pony on this island who holds the interests of the common citizen above all else, this is the mare.” He paused, giving extra emphasis to his next words. “I’d expect your causes would align, considering your office.”

“Mm, yes, well.” Mr. Marks leaned back against the wall behind him with a sigh. “We pick and choose our battles here. It wasn’t easy to protect those dockworkers from retribution after they walked out on their shift, but it had to be done.”

“This, too, has to be done,” Rarity said, leaning forwards intently. “If we don’t stop this conflict before the barons launch an assault on the city, hundreds of ponies could die—on both sides of the wall! Governor Rhea has been unreceptive to diplomacy, but surely there’s something you could do to help?”

“Me? And the governor’s already turned you away?” Mr. Marks arched a brow. “What exactly would you expect me to do?”

“You control the city’s labor, do you not?” Whitehorn asked. “Without labor, ships full of supplies cannot be unloaded, factories cannot be run, and repairs cannot be made. A general strike would apply immense pressure.”

“A—a general strike?” Mr. Marks blinked, his jaw hanging open for a few long seconds, and then he broke down a deep laugh. “Hold on, hold on! Let me get this straight.” He raised a hoof to buy time while his laughter drifted into quiet chuckles. “So you want me to tell a city full of commoners, fresh full of hate for the baronlanders after a bombing in the very center of their city, to walk out on their jobs and force Rhea to—to what?”

“Well…” Rarity hesitated for only a moment. “To surrender, darling. If the city retracts its protection from Duchess Nettlekiss then—”

“You want us to surrender a war that we’re winning?” Mr. Marks shook his head as the laughter came back in forceful guffaws. “Your goals are admirable, Countess, but letting the barons win this will be the end of Friesland as it stands. We need Nettlekiss grain to keep our dominance, and without it, the barons might actually have a chance of sieging us out!”

“No, they won’t!” Rarity insisted. “I won’t let them!”

“And what will you do? You’re the wife of the son of the Duke, not queen of the island.” Mr. Marks paused to drink from his bottle before giving a lazy shrug. “Even if the city wanted the war to end, calling a strike during wartime is tantamount to treason. I won’t have my neck snapped over your lost cause, Countess.”

The words hung in the air, left unchallenged as Rarity struggled to find an argument, but again she was useless. Her hooftips shook in frustration as she looked between Mr. Mark’s eyes, searching for some crack in the unyielding facade.

She jumped as Whitehorn laid a hoof over hers. “It seems we’re done here, then. We’ll take our leave.”

Rarity rounded on him, ready to demand otherwise, but the look in his eyes gave her pause. He gave a slight shake of his head before nodding to the door.

“Yes.” She stood stiffly, drawing her cloak about her. “So we shall.”

Mr. Marks gave a curt nod. “It was good to meet you, Countess. Perhaps in kinder times we might find our positions more agreeable, but until then.” He turned to Twinkle Smith. “See them out, Mr. Smith.”

“Yes, sir.”

The walk back down to the main room was made in silence, their bluecoat escort following behind like a stone-faced shadow. The guild hall was almost completely empty now, with only River Pie patiently waiting alone at their table while a trio of ponies spoke in hushed tones at another.

River’s hopeful smile faded away as she saw the expression on Rarity’s face. “He turned ye down, didn’t he?”

Rarity looked away with a sigh as they approached the table. “I’m sorry.”

“Well—we shouldn’t give up hope yet!” River rose out of her seat with an indignant pout. “Perhaps ye’d join Twinkle ’n I t’ discuss it over some drinks? I’m sure there’s somethin’ we can do!”

The bluecoat escort cleared her throat. Rarity glanced back to see her gave a slight shake of her head.

“I’m afraid no further detours will be allowed, darling,” Rarity said. “Whitehorn and I must return to our lodging, though I’d encourage you to come visit or write. It always puts a smile on my face to hear from you.”

“Then I shall write ye regularly!” River promised.

Rarity’s lips curled up into a small smile. She reached out with a hoof, pulling the ex-bandit into a quick hug. “I look forward to it. Until then, keep doing as you do. I’m proud of you.”

River beamed as Rarity pulled back, but there wasn’t any time to relish the moment. Soon Rarity and Whitehorn were out on the street once more, one bluecoat leading them between the puddles of lantern light while the other brought up the rear.

The streets were dead at this time, with only the soldiers stationed at street corners or hawk-eyed patrols disturbing the stillness. The wind had grown stronger as well, and Rarity found herself walking with her cloak’s hood pulled low, the breeze pulling the fabric away from her legs in strong gusts. It was bitter weather, but it gave her and Whitehorn a good excuse to walk close enough to share the heat of their bodies, and made it easy for them to speak without their escort overhearing.

“I just don’t see a way through this, darling,” Rarity said, a shiver passing through her. “Everywhere we go, we face the same obstacles. It was hard enough before, but now with this attack the Frieslanders are out for blood!”

“Understandably so,” Whitehorn said. “Though I do have some ideas.”

“Oh?” Rarity turned to face him. The wind tugged at her forelock, pulling the curl apart into a fluttering wave. “Do tell.”

“Just some contacts of mine who may be able to assist.” Whitehorn met her gaze with a smile, and for a moment the torchlight reflecting off the lens of his glasses almost seemed to make his eyes glow. “I’ll let you know how it pans out.”

Author's Notes:

Old bonds take on new forms, and new bonds form between the old.

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For those of you interested in more about Midnight's perspective on everything, Empty Horizons: Lost Student, which has been on hiatus for the past few months, has been making great progress with a total rewrite, though it isn't published it. PsyonicG is only five chapters in and has already surpassed the 30k words of the original thirteen, and I quite like how she handles the duo!