Empathy for the Devil

by MarvelandPonder

First published 2nd of June, 2020

Sunset Shimmer receives remarkable news: Princess Twilight's becoming the queen of all Equestria! But as her friends celebrate, Sunset struggles with her own destiny when dangerous, new magic leaks through a rip in space-time above Canterlot High.

Sunset Shimmer and her friends receive remarkable news: Princess Twilight is poised to become the queen of all Equestria! As the girls celebrate the invitation to their friend's upcoming coronation, Sunset's horrified to find that she's not just selflessly happy for her best friend. If not princesshood, what's she meant to do with her life anyway? What's her destiny in the human world?

As Equestrian Magic grows more powerful due to an ominous, inter-dimensional rip in space-time above Canterlot High, Sunset's friends are affected by a dangerous, new magic and she's left to wonder if she's done more harm here than good.

This story is a sequel to The Exes Club. Helpful, but not required reading. Themes and ideas introduced there are developed further here.

Story development, visual direction, and illustrations by the badass Bevin Brand.
Editing and support by the lovely Space Jazz.
Special thanks to one of my best friends, Bookish Delight, for her immeasurable support, guidance, and all around awesomeness.

Featured on June 2nd, 2020
Featured as a Scouted Fanfic on Equestria Daily June 5th, 2020

Tagged with Sex for sexual discussion, no graphic depictions. Tagged with Profanity because teenagers.

1. With Love, the Royal Family

Sunset Shimmer caught a letter out of the air after it appeared in a swirling burst of green flame. The purple envelope steamed between her fingers, still hot to the touch. She’d grabbed it on instinct, but it took seeing her name written in cursive and a pink wax seal of Princess Twilight’s cutie mark to register what she had in her hands.

Then the fire alarm went off and Sunset swore in Equestrian.

Shoving the letter into the breast-pocket of her leather jacket like it was evidence she’d pulled the fire alarm, Sunset followed the rest of her chemistry class as they flowed out into the hall.

Maybe her chem teacher hadn’t seen? He could be a pretty distracted guy. Dr. Whooves ushered his students out, bellowing after them, “There, you see? The calm and orderly movement of students from a classroom is akin to the diffusion of a substance poured into a beaker! Spread out evenly to fill your new environment, children! You’ll feel like chemicals!”

The one person Sunset could depend on to be appropriately freaked out by weird magical occurrences fell in step with her. Of course, it helped that Twilight was her lab partner for chemistry and, more importantly, her girlfriend. “What on earth was that? You’re getting mail by fire now?”

Sunset didn’t have to keep her voice down with the bell drilling into their ears and the talkative students flooding the halls from every door, but she still didn’t love throwing the word fire around where the evacuating student body could overhear.

Still, her eyes locked onto her girlfriend’s. “I think it’s from Princess Twilight. But, I don’t know why she wouldn’t just message me using the journal or how she would’ve done that in the first place! It looked like... dragon fire⁠—” Smelt like it, too. The few run-ins she and Princess Celestia had with visitors of the scaly kind left the royal draperies stinking of ash and cinders no matter what material burned. “—but I’ve never heard of dragons who can replace the postal system.”

Rainbow Dash caught up with them first as they made their way down the main stairs. She slid down the banister and all but danced down the two remaining steps before pumping her fist. “Haha! Yeah, baby! This is so sweet! No more algebra test! And I didn’t even have to pull the fire alarm this time!”

Twilight gaped at her. “Did you really just say those words? Out loud? And mean them?!”

Pinkie Pie bounded over from the school’s kitchen with a backpack overflowing with rescued baked goods. She hugged Twilight from the side, who was checking her own pulse by her smartwatch to test for cardiac arrest. “N’aww, don’t be too hard on her, Twi. I’ve set off the alarm oodles of times!”

Sunset smirked. “Yep. And that’s how we learned you probably should open a window when you fire a cannon. One of my personal favourite friendship lessons.”

Fluttershy tailed the group, ‘excuse me’ing her way to her friends. She wasn’t making much headway, so Pinkie Pie grabbed her by the hand and pulled her towards them. Fluttershy shared a smile with her. “Oh! Thank you! I was really worried when I heard the alarm go off. Is it crazy that I thought it might be a villain with evil magic?”

Sunset felt her friends’ eyes dogpile onto her. She was used to that whenever the subject came up (even if the magic scholar in her still took issue with the phrase ‘evil magic’). Since losing the fight with King Sombra, she could sense more than just looks waiting for marching orders. They needed security. They needed normalcy.

And not that Sunset thought of herself as the leader or had any right to, but they could use one of those, too.

That was one of the countless reasons she was glad to have Twilight around. Okay, sure, maybe Twilight didn’t think of herself as someone ready to step in and be the group’s de facto leader, but Sunset knew she could. Even apart from her princess counterpart!

She was humble, caring, a great listener, and a certifiable genius (as an added bonus, Sunset had recently found out she was a good kisser to boot). When it came down to it, Twilight was stronger than most anyone Sunset had ever met. It made Sunset a little sad to think Twilight couldn’t see the greatness in herself, but that was getting better, and Sunset firmly believed it was only a matter of time before Twilight figured it out. The girl was smart that way.

Sunset held up her hands. “I’ve got it on good authority that whatever magic it was that caused this wasn’t evil.”

They followed the flow of traffic out onto the front steps of Canterlot High and into the chilled courtyard not quite ready for snow. Pinkie Pie shimmied in place. “Ooo-hoo-hoo-hooo! My party senses are tingling big time! And this one is gonna be a doozy!”

"Party senses?" Sunset mumbled. “Pinkie, this is an evacuation.”

Pinkie laughed like Sunset told a great joke, patting her on the shoulder. “Silly Sunset. Anything’s a party if you believe hard enough.”

“Doesn’t seem like everyone else is ready for a party,” Twilight muttered.

Following her girlfriend’s gaze, Sunset saw the other students of CHS gathering outside the school together but looking pretty on edge for a bunch of students who just got out of class.

Seniors and freshmen alike tossed around theories. Walking through the student body, Sunset could swear she heard Octavia ask Vinyl Scratch, “You don’t think this has anything to do with the crack in the sky, do you?”

Sunset cast a look over her shoulder, her eyes snagging on the so-called crack in the daytime sky. In truth: it was a rip in space-time. Leftovers from a fight she and the girls had lost. Badly. More than that, a reminder that the danger that caused all this, a King Sombra with unknown dimensional origins, was still out there somewhere.

Sunset just hoped they’d be ready and tried her best not to think about it.

Up ahead by the base of the broken horse statue, Applejack emerged from the crowd holding Rarity bridal-style. Applejack looked at her, miffed. “I don’t think this is how firemen are supposed to carry out civilians, Rarity. I could sling ya over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes if you want me to be more accurate.”

“No, no, darling dearest, I’m quite certain this is exactly how it’s done,” Rarity informed her, arms draped around Applejack’s broad shoulders and stealing her stetson for her own. As soon as she noticed their other friends, Rarity brightened. “Oh how marvellous! We’ve all survived the fire unscathed! What a relief. You know, with our luck, I would have expected some—” She twirled her wrist as if wielding a wand. “—utterly ridiculous magic to implicate us in all this.”

“Uh, actually…?” Sunset offered a guilty grin. The letter felt toasty against her chest as the fire alarm rang and unnerved to outright panicked students vacated the school behind her. Bulk Biceps sounded girlishly terrified.

Rarity’s carefully shadowed eyelids fell to a humourless height. “Assorted magical brouhaha?”

“Of sorts, yes.” Twilight shrugged next to Sunset. “But in Sunset’s defense, this time wasn’t her fault: it happened to her. My theory on our increasing trouble-magnetism is proving exceptionally true.” While she thought it was beyond sweet for Twilight to speak up for her, Sunset couldn’t help thinking that if there was any law of ‘trouble-magnetism’ in effect, it had to be attracted to the magical unicorn from another dimension here. Twilight went on, adding, “Although, at least this time we didn’t blow up a significant portion of the school, so… hooray?”

“For you girls, I call that a win.” Flash Sentry shuffled forward through the crowd, holding his phone up like a life-preserver. These days, Sunset hadn’t seen Flash without it—even now he paused to text someone and poorly conceal a big, dumb smile. He seemed to remember he was in the presence of the girls and blushed. “Uh, sorry. Timber woke up with his bed in the lake again and Gloriosa won’t admit she’s doing it. I also told Timber about the fire alarm. He wants to know if you’re all okay.”

Sunset chuckled, crossing her arms. Tempted as she was to tease him, she rooted for that kid too much to damage that smile when he looked this happy. She could always tease him later. “You can tell your boyfriend we’re fine. There wasn’t much fire. Weirdly enough, I think it was a message from the Princess.”

Double-checking the perimeter for principals or teachers, Sunset took the letter from within her jacket. The envelope cooled completely, but a fire of curiosity still burned inside her, trying to work out why Twilight would ever be so... formal. Even their student-teacher correspondence in the journal had only ever been nothing but friendly.

Sunset broke the wax seal with her pocket-knife and found a folded scroll waiting inside. Royal white parchment paper, embossed with a golden T at the letterhead. Sunset’s eyebrows raised further and further the more ornate details she noticed. “‘Dear Sunset Shimmer and friends.’”

She shot a smirk to the girls and read on. “‘I hope this invitation finds you all in good spirits. Because you have made an invaluable difference in my life, by your friendship and love, it is my honour to personally request your company at my upcoming coronation as I prepare to succeed Princess Luna and Princess Celestia.” Sunset’s breath hitched, the words stumbling, rushing from her mouth. “From the desk of the royal family, your friend, Twilight Sparkle.’”

As the word coronation left her mouth, a pregnant pause overcame her friends. Looks exchanged, lights brightened in their eyes. By the time Sunset finished her sentence, her friends all but erupted into cheers around her.

Their laughs and excited babbling drew the attention of the other students, but none of them seemed to care. Or even notice. Applejack spun Rarity around before finally letting her down (and taking her hat back). Chortling, Pinkie Pie pounced on a whooping Rainbow Dash, who was already holding Fluttershy in a rocking, tearful hug.

Twilight laughed more at her overexcited friends than anything, sharing an amused look with a shrugging Flash Sentry. Then she looked toward Sunset and her smile dimmed. “Sunset?”

Sunset Shimmer stared ahead. Her head was so light that the heaviest part of it was the cold sweat at the nape of her neck. She tore her eyes back down and tried to reread the letter, but the calligraphy blurred, danced, and darkened. Sunset didn’t so much feel her eyes rolling towards the back of her head as she did waking back up with Flash and Twilight, bracing her biceps as they caught her before she could fall back into the portal, fainting all the way to Equestria.

Sweet Celestia.

Twilight was at her left. “Sunset? Sunny, are you okay?”

Flash shot a bewildered look over Sunset’s head. “Sunset lets you give her pet-names?”

Twilight didn’t really answer, helping Sunset back to her feet. The rest of their friends had crowded around her at some point; Rarity patted Sunset’s cheek twice, as if to correct the colour. “Good heavens! Are you all right, dear?”

Fluttershy dug around in her backpack. “I have smelling salt here somewhere if she needs it. Sunset Shimmer? Can you speak to us?”

“... yeah,” she said, sounding weak and pathetic even to her own ears. Sunset shook her head and pushed past her crowding friends—mostly just to get air. Celestia love ‘em, sometimes she thought the best friendship lesson her friends could learn was the concept of personal space.

Giving the invitation another glance, conflicting emotions battled for supremacy. That in and of itself deeply disturbed her. Sunset should’ve been happy. She should’ve been irrefutably, indubitably thrilled. She retreaded the words again as if that might jumpstart the joy. And Sunset was happy, wasn’t she?

She thought about how much Princess Twilight deserved this. How long her friend had worked and strived and earned this. How Twilight was the measure of a mare most ponies would be lucky to ever reach and how much Sunset admired her for it.

But I’m not just happy for her, she thought, which was why the emotion that won out over all others was fear. Princess Celestia decided she was worthy...

Sunset blushed a mortifying red at the thought that her friends saw her react that way. Turning back toward them, she put on a smile that she was scared didn’t entirely belong to her. “Sorry. I’m okay, it’s just, well not shocking, I mean, who didn’t see this coming a mile away? But still! It’s big news, right? This is so... cool!”

This is so cool, she repeated. This is cool, and I’m really, really happy for her.

While she could see some of her more perceptive friends picking up on the small shake to her voice—so cool so cool so cool so—Rainbow Dash barked a hack of a laugh. “Ha! Big news? Try biggest news ever!”

“Yeah!” Sunset agreed gratefully, nodding. Cool news! Tamping down every emotion she didn’t like with a drill-press, she took the opportunity to lay an arm around Pinkie Pie’s shoulder. “And where there’s a coronation…?”

“There’s a coronation party!” Pinkie finished, practically trembling at the suggestion. She smushed up her own cheeks. “Oh my gosh! I’ve so wanted to see how you ponies party it up, and now we’re going to the party of the century!? Ahh! So! Amazetacular!”

Sunset found her laugh again thanks to Pinkie Pie, which was far from the first time she could say that. “Who needs high school parties when we’ve got a queen’s coronation, am I right?”

That got Rarity clutching at her collarbone, or rather, the lack of pearls thereby. “Goodness gracious,” she spoke as if seeing her own death before her, “you’re both absolutely right! We… we need gowns! We need accessories! We need haute couture!”

Applejack gave her a strange look. “I still ain’t entirely convinced you didn’t learn those words to sound fancy.”

“It’s Prench,” Twilight offered. “In reference to a style of high end fashion originating in Mareris.”

Applejack nodded. “You know that and I know that, but the real question is does Rarity know more Prench than just enough to sound like she knows Prench.”

Shrugging, Rarity offered her a smile. “I prefer to keep the mystery alive.”

“Whoa… a queen, huh? Wow. I guess it was only a matter of time.” As Flash Sentry’s shoulders slumped, he rubbed one of them. He turned his gaze to Sunset. “So, when you said the letter was addressed to ‘Sunset and friends,’ do you think maybe…? You know, that you girls get plus-ones? Uh, totally platonic plus-ones?”

Maybe it was bad, but Sunset was glad for the distraction from her own insecurities. Her smile quirked up. “You really think Princess Twilight wouldn’t include you? Dude. Obviously she means all her friends on this side of the mirror. That’s you, too, Sentry. You get a plus-one.”

The delirious laugh that came out of Rarity startled Fluttershy. “Gowns and suits! For a coronation!”

Sunset crossed her arms over her unruly, defiant chest, a smile on her face. She gripped her arms a little too tight, listening to her friends babble on about what they would do to prepare for Twilight’s ascension to the throne. I’m happy, not jealous. I’m happy, not jealous. I love Princess Twilight, she’s one of my best friends! She deserves this so much more than I ever did or ever will.

So why did that feel like a cigarette twisting on her skin?

Stop it! Stop feeling sorry for yourself when you should be happy for her! For the whole ‘royal family!’ Sunset scolded, grinding the teeth in her smile. An unsettling shiver, like a spectre passing through her, came with the thought: Holy Celestia... I thought I was a better friend than this.

Sunset dug her hands into her pockets and leaned against the cold brick at her back. She was surprised her friends let her wander off on her own after nearly fainting, but to their credit, Sunset did everything in her power to look steady. She hoped in all that time learning to be genuine and true she hadn’t lost her skills in the art of deception.

Not that she needed another reason to feel like her old self. The sunny sky above sent swelters through her heart remembering the way Princess Celestia used to let a very young Sunset sit out on the balcony and pretend she’d raised the sun all by herself, like a big filly. Watching clouds slide into the tear in the sky now, still hanging over the school as if to remind of all the damage she could cause (and had caused), Sunset felt like her stomach was crumbling in on itself with the force it took to keep from tearing up.

Instead, she took out her magical journal from her backpack and skimmed through all of the messages there. Lesson after lesson, letter after letter, until she got to what Princess Twilight had written in response to her when Sunset’s friends had all forgotten her thanks to the memory stone: Of course we’re friends!

Exhaling a shaky sigh, Sunset hugged the journal tight to her chest.

When Flash Sentry and Twilight came around the corner, Sunset made an attempt at a laugh. “Not my most convincing performance back there, huh?”

Flash smiled the same way he usually did: warmly, but also like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to or not. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. For someone who just passed out, that was a pretty good impression of someone keeping it together.”

Sunset groaned. Flash seemed genuinely surprised because, of course, he thought that was a genuine compliment.

Regardless, Sunset wasn’t surprised in the least that Twilight picked up on it; Sunset’s girlfriend could read her better than anyone in the multiverse. Occasionally something would get lost or bungled in translation, sure, but for the most part Twilight was getting better and better at noticing details most didn’t. She’d make the perfect leader and didn’t even realize it. Sunset thought it would be adorable if it wasn’t a little tragic.

Twilight crossed her arms, but not impatiently. More so to hold herself up. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Sunset shook her head. “What’s there to talk about?”

Flash clapped her hand on her shoulder. “Hey. You don’t have to hide anything with us.”

In a better headspace, Sunset might’ve noticed the glow around his hand before the blast. But she didn’t see it coming whatsoever, which made it all the more disorienting when her own geode reacted, as if supercharged.

Quite literally.

A swarm of a thousand thoughts and a hundred different feelings paralyzed her in place. Lyra’s unwavering crush on Bon Bon. Bulk’s deep insecurity. Principal Celestia’s almost maternal love for her students. All of it came crashing into her at once with so many thoughts. The sound in her head was undecipherable, with absolutely everyone talking at once.

Sunset clutched her hands over her ears, like that would help the overstimulation. She opened her eyes to see Flash’s hand still on her shoulder. His eyes were frozen owlishly wide, staring directly at her. She tore herself away from him, reeling back, and without the calamity of a whole school’s thoughts and feelings crashing down on her, the quiet of the empty street at midday settled in.

Twilight clutched at her chest, shaking her head. “Oh, Sunset… is that really how you feel?”

Her stomach dropped through a trap-door. Looking from Twilight to Flash, Sunset could see their concern for her had skyrocketed, nearly high enough to reach the crack in the sky through the clouds. They saw right through her. The sheer aghast horror in their expressions couldn’t just be from seeing her use her magic, and if Sunset felt the entire school’s emotions and thoughts…

Sunset panted, backing away. “What was that?! Flash, what did you just do?”

Waving his hands, Flash backed closer to Twilight, nearly tripping backward over his own sneakers. “I-I only wanted to help! I wanted to understand… I didn’t know I’d… I didn’t know I could…”

Twilight gave Sunset a soft look, as if to forecast a conversation they needed to have ahead, but turned to Flash with a smile. “Well… congratulations, Flash. Your superpower isn’t just holding Timber’s hand.”

2. Somewhere Only He Knows

Sunset Shimmer felt bad for anyone who had to deal with her emotions. Really, she did. In the exchange, she could barely tell up from down, highs from lows, but all of it happened so fast and so intensely that she really only got a sense of the general trend—and even that was hard to tell with that many people involved.

But Flash accidentally broadcasting how Sunset felt to everyone in school meant they all had to feel every bit of shame, anger, fear, and jealousy that Sunset did, if only briefly.

Sunset had never been more mortified in her entire life.

She didn’t plan on going to school the next day. Or getting out of bed. Just her, some sweats, her most mindless video games, her gecko, her cat, and an extra large pizza (as long as the pizza delivery guy didn’t go to CHS). Easy. The only thing missing from that equation was girlfriend cuddles; Sunset didn't know if it was the magic in her girlfriend's hands, but when they held each other, Twilight had a way about finding the parts of Sunset's body that wouldn't quite admit they were ticklish. But, in theory, Sunset could sustain herself on the little texts Twilight had been sending like Are you okay??? and If you're not okay, I'm here.

So really and truly, she wouldn’t have shown up for school the next day if she didn’t have a serious mystery to beat out of Flash “this is a great time to suddenly have magic” Sentry.

That didn’t mean she had to like all the kids in school understanding her.

Everyone knew by now that she was an absolute mess. Someone who couldn’t even be truly happy when one of her best friends in the multiverse finally achieved what she rightly deserved. That deep down, she was still just as cruel-hearted as she’d always been. Sunset still couldn’t get over how selfish her reaction was, so what must the rest of the school think?

Apparently the answer was pity. She was that pathetic. Bulk Biceps even baked her cookies with his mom last night and gave them to her in first period art class. At that rate, Sunset didn’t expect to make it to lunch without dying of embarrassment, but then, even when she did survive until the bell rang for lunch, she still had to make it to the bandroom.

Every person Sunset passed in the halls looked at her as if she were a sick puppy. Sandalwood stepped into her path with a shivering pout and gave her a big bear hug.

Sunset slouched over and sighed. “You can let go now, Sandalwood.”

She sped up, but not without hearing the pitying whispers of students at their lockers as she passed them by. Trixie looked like she was watching a dead girl walking, trading looks with Wallflower Blush. “Sunset Shimmer, is there anything you want to tell your best friend Trixie?”

“Nope! Definitely not!” she called back, trying not to growl. Sunset hadn’t had this much attention just walking down the hall since she ruled the school, and remembering that really didn’t make her feel any better. Turns out I’m not all that different from then anyway…

The only person Sunset even considered slowing down for scurried after her from the depths of the science lab. For an asthmatic, Twilight could keep pace surprisingly well, which Sunset appreciated, since she couldn't exactly afford to leisurely stroll down the halls hand-in-hand today.

As she came up to the principal’s office, even Principal Celestia softened to see her, as if Sunset had recently lost a loved one. Had Sunset’s thoughts and emotions really been that overdramatic? The Principal stood by her open door, and gestured into it. “Sunset Shimmer, I hope you know you can always come to me for—”

“Oh hard pass,” Sunset told her, not slowing down. She felt a tiny bit rude for stomping by, but dear Celestia, that was the absolute last thing she could take today: Princess Celestia’s doppelganger taking her in for a therapy session, talking about how desperately in need of guidance counselling Sunset was. Her old mentor’s voice saying aloud how self-centered Sunset still was would, in all likelihood, break her.

Twilight, however, slowed down to fidget with her hands. Sunset didn’t need to turn back to know. “She... may need some time. But, um, we’re still on for my next scheduled appointment, right?”

The warmth of Principal Celestia’s smile bled through into her voice. “Of course, Twilight. Every Thursday at noon and any time you need it.”

“Thank you!” she told her, before scurrying to catch up with Sunset.

It really wasn’t that Sunset had a problem with counselling. Anymore, at least. Back in her power-hungry days (or more power-hungry days…), she used to think therapy was a cheap way for hucksters to make a quick bit off the defenseless and sentimental.

But, then, it had seemed to really help Twilight, seeing their Principal once or twice a week to adjust to Canterlot High and just cope better with the towering pressure on her back as a superhero/honor student/friend extraordinaire. Sunset still wasn’t sure if therapy would ever be for her, per se, but anything that helped her girlfriend that much couldn’t be all bad.

Coming up beside her, Twilight slipped her hand into Sunset’s and kissed her on the cheek. That sort of melted the frown off Sunset's face. She finally managed to look someone in the eye and found Twilight offering a gentle smile. She tried to offer one back, but she was afraid it wasn’t all that enthusiastic.

As soon as the two came into the bandroom, the Rainbooms stood up off the concert seating as if rising for the national anthem. Even the girls looked sorry for her. Because they know I’m not half the friend I thought I was. They’re the best friends anyone could ever have, and I still don’t deserve them. Sunset huffed and almost turned the other way. “Not you, too! Can we please just not talk about it?”

That seemed to take the wind out of the friendship experts' sails. Sunset almost felt bad. It kind of seemed like they’d been preparing among themselves all morning to steer her through some harsh emotional waves. Rainbow Dash dropped her arms against her sides, slapping her rainbow-streaked leggings. Pinkie looked to Rarity for a sign that things were okay, but Rarity appeared to be equally as concerned as her. Applejack raised an eyebrow, crossing her strong arms across her chest.

Sunset waited for their regular chatter to fill the bandroom, livening up its pitch-perfect acoustics with talk about their classes, plans for winter break, or fun videos they saw online. After a long enough pause, she’d even take their babbled plans for Twilight’s coronation. Anything.

“...Okay, Sunset.” Fluttershy was the only one with the courage to walk over. She cupped Sunset’s cheek with a soft, well-self-cared hand. “But whenever you’re ready, we’ll be right here.”

Oh come on, that’s not playing fair. Sunset wanted to give in right then and there. She’d let her friends lie to her face about how it was okay that she apparently still wasn’t over the whole Princess thing, how it was somehow okay to just keep backsliding—or never make any progress at all. Maybe she wasn’t as far from the she-demon as she thought.

I am over this, she tried to convince herself. I haven’t even thought about being a princess in over a year. I don’t feel like I’m owed the throne anymore. I have a life here! I’ve got friends! A girlfriend! A whole high school counting on me to fight rogue magic! And after that...

She pushed that thought aside. The important part was that she had a lot going for her right now. She told herself to be grateful for that much.

Sunset crossed her arms, but tried to smile for Fluttershy’s sake. “Yeah. I know. But we’ve kind of got bigger things to deal with right now, anyway. When Flash patted my shoulder yesterday, it was like my magic exploded! I know we’ve had magical surges, but this was unreal! I haven’t had that much power on my own since… uh, well, you know when. She-demon me.” She blushed again, rubbing her neck.

“Except that this magic didn’t feed off of malicious or evil intent,” Twilight corrected. “Whatever Flash did boosted what you already felt to the nth degree. Near demon-level power without the evil, demonic implications!”

“So what you’re saying is,” Timber Spruce’s voice entered the room before he did, with Flash hiding behind him, “my boyfriend’s an angel. I could’ve told you that.”

Twilight’s eyebrows raised and she squeaked like one of Winona’s chew toys as she said, “Timber Spruce! You’re here! Wow! Why are you here?” She spooked herself, waving her hands. “Not that that isn’t great! I’m always glad to see you! We all are! In fact, you should come around more often, and when you do, you won’t really need an explanation to be there because you’ll always be around, you know? Timber! One of the gang! But, you’re not really around a lot yet, especially in the middle of the school day and never were when we were dating, um⁠—” She shook her head and struck out her good hand to shake. “Sorry. Good to see you?”

Timber’s smile held in his awkward chuckle but not very well. The hand-shake between them didn’t exactly look comfortable. “Uh, yeah, good to see you, too. Glad to see you haven’t changed.” He pointed half-hearted finger guns at her.

Silence wormed its way in between them. It went on for longer than either of them expected or wanted.

It also didn’t help that Flash Sentry wouldn’t look Sunset in the eye, and Sunset wasn’t entirely sure she could do the reverse. At least, not without blackening one of them.

The only person still moving about was Rarity as she took the measuring tape from around her neck and scribbled down numbers. Sunset knew for a fact Rarity already had their measurements ten times over, but she was frankly impressed Rarity wasn't triple-checking every inch for the coronation outfits (in Sunset's case, admittedly, she had stress-eaten her feelings last night, so fine, maybe that was a little fair to update). The boys were happy for the slight distraction, even if Flash eluded the measuring tape thanks to his boyfriend stepping in, but Sunset guessed Flash was more so hiding from her than the measuring tape.

Twilight looked to Sunset. Her eyes begged for her girlfriend to do or say something so she wouldn't have to, so Sunset clapped a loose and (mostly) non-threatening fist against her palm and took the first step to Flash. “So… brought the boyfriend along for moral support, huh?”

Coming out from behind said boyfriend as tentatively as a newborn deer, Flash rubbed the back of his head. “Is... that okay? I mean, I also asked him to come because he has some kind of magic, too, so it’s probably important to, like, figure that out while we’re at it, but… it’s not weird for you two, right?”

Twilight nervously twiddled her thumbs. “What? No! Not at all!”

Sunset laughed. As much as she didn’t want her girlfriend to be nervous, Sunset thought she was pretty cute when she was. But then again, she was always cute.

Sunset punched Flash on the shoulder to keep from letting her anger get the better of her. (For now.) She decided on following the instinct that she never liked being mad at Flash (he was just too defenseless; it never felt like a fair fight, especially not given their history). Instead, she resolved to beat him mercilessly in Guitar God at the arcade. Although she’d admit to throwing in a bit more force than usual. “Not weirder than whatever you did yesterday. How cool was that?! You have powers now, too! A little invasive, but hey, I can read people’s thoughts so I guess I can’t be talking there, huh?”

Hearing that, Flash relaxed his shoulders. “Yeah, sorry. Did I mention I had no idea that would happen, and I still don’t really get what I did?”

“If it’s any help, I don’t think it was just you, Flash,” Twilight said, settling back into her comfort zone. “I think it was you two together.”

Rainbow Dash made a face. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait. What’s that supposed to mean?”

Twilight wheeled over the extra whiteboard the music teacher sometimes used for lesson plans; and, as if sensing that class was about to be in session, the girls all sort of found their way to taking a seat. She doodled round circles with squiggles on them, the tip of her tongue sticking out with the effort, and labelled the first one Sunset.

Pinkie Pie squinted. “That’s Sunset? Ooo, abstract-y!”

Twilight frowned back at them. “What? It’s not abstract. That’s clearly Sunset!”

The whole group protested in different ways since there was so much to critique.

Rarity looked offended on Sunset’s behalf. “Oh dear, please do not tell me that’s how you see your girlfriend.”

Twilight made a series of aggravated noises below her breath before handing Timber the marker. “Fine. Timber can provide the illustrations.”

Timber quickly sketched out some cartoonish heads of Sunset and her friends and the others made a noise of approval.

Fluttershy brightened. “Yep, that’s us alright!”

“Clear as day,” Applejack agreed.

“Lookin’ real good for doodles!” Rainbow added, very pleased.

Timber nodded, hands wedged under his armpits but the thumbs sticking up, something of a B-boy stance. “Ah! C’est magnifique! Noice.” He gave Twilight back the marker with a flourish. “General, your battle plan?”

“Eh… yes?” She took back the marker, not looking too sure of herself. Sunset made a mental note to encourage her girlfriend more, if not shower her in praise. She already told Twilight she was beautiful, but there was so much more complimentary ground to cover and Twilight deserved to know it all. Humility was fine and good (and, admittedly, not always Sunset’s area of expertise), but Twilight had every right to feel confident leading their friends.

At the very least, Twilight finished her diagram without further complaints and capped the marker. “So this circle of heads represents all of us, labelled with our individual powers, and these lines connecting us are our potential magical connections. So-”

Pinkie raised her hand.

Twilight frowned. “Oh. Um, yes Pinkie?”

“Can Doodle Pinkie have a Doodle Cupcake? She looks hungry.”

“No, Pinkie. This is a chart.”

Pinkie raised her hand again.

Twilight raised an eyebrow in turn. “Are you hungry, Pinkie?”

“Mm-hm. Can I please eat?”

“Nothing’s stopping you, but alright. Sure. You have my permission. Please enjoy your cupcake.” As Pinkie happily dug in, Twilight turned back to the diagram and pointed at the line she drew between her and Sunset. “Sunset and I have been able to share our magic with each other before, and we found out that her empathy and my telekinesis magic blend together and create a new magic of our own—a healing power!”

“Whoa, you have medic powers?!” Rainbow Dash’s eyes lit up like the industrial-grade lights CHS got last year on the football field for home games and late practices. “That’s so boss! When we’re out on the battlefield, popping the bad guys in the face and maybe getting a scratch or two, we can be all, medic! Medic! And then you can come and heal us!”

Flash looked more relieved than anything. “That’s amazing! So we don’t have to worry about you girls when you rush off head first into danger anymore?”

“Well, yes and no? We can only really heal to a certain extent. I wouldn’t say we’re all invincible⁠—but we’re getting off track here.” Twilight tapped the board with the marker. “What I’m saying is I thought Sunset and I could share magic because of how, um, close we are now⁠—”

Timber Spruce whooped from the back of the class, the kind of woo only sitcom audiences made when a kiss happened on screen.

That really didn’t help Twilight from getting flustered. She tugged at her bowtie and cleared her throat. “⁠—but in any case, I don’t think magic-sharing is necessarily a romantic endeavour. Any of us might be able to do it! Although exactly how is still a mystery to me.”

Applejack, hand to her chin, squinted at the whiteboard until something clicked and her eyes went wide. “Well, I’ll be. So, what you’re saying is, Flash and Sunset must’ve shared magic yesterday and made their own new-fangled power?”

“Sounds mostly right, but... I don’t know if it was a new power,” Sunset said. She thought back to how it felt to have all those emotions rushing through her, all mingling together at once in a school-wide party where everyone’s emotional instability was invited. “It was more like my power but cranked up to eleven. Whether he meant to or not, I think Flash just… gave me a boost.”

All eyes drifted over to Flash, sitting on the bleachers next to Timber. He looked shocked but not unhappy about it.

Twilight smiled and drew a line from Flash to Sunset, labeling it Emotional Projection then labeling the Flash head with the power Amplification.

As Twilight stepped back, Sunset wondered if the rest of the girls were thinking the same thing she was. There were a lot of potential lines to draw, combinations left to discover. Her magically-trained mind tingled with the possibilities. But there was also one more wildcard in that deck they hadn’t quite figured out.

“Weird. Hey, Timber, have you noticed anything at all that might be your⁠—” Sunset stopped, looking around. “Wait, where’s Timber?”

Timber wasn’t there anymore. She knew there had to be a reason he’d been so quiet since the woo—that boy could barely go a minute without a sassy comeback—but she didn’t understand how he’d snuck out unless… “Timber? Are you… are you invisible?”

Twilight blanched. “Please don’t let Timber Spruce’s power be invisibility.”

Flash tilted his head, genuinely confused. “Why? What could he use invisibility for that’s so bad?”

“We’ll tell you when you’re older,” Rainbow promised, patting his head.

“Oh, grow up, he wouldn’t use it for that. Timber isn’t a perv,” Twilight said, crossing her arms. “I... just don’t like the idea of him being around without me realizing it and then saying something I may or may not say if I knew he was there.” Her eyes went wide. “N-not that I have anything to hide from you if you are invisible!”

The others’ gazes roamed around the empty spaces of the band room, and Fluttershy even felt up the air as if expecting to run into Timber, but he was well and truly gone.

Flash Sentry looked just about as lost as the rest of them until a pop song blasted out of his vibrating pocket at full volume. The lyrics of the song were about as mushy-gushy romantic as a Hearts and Hooves Day couples’ sundae at Sugarcube Corner. Before the singer could wax poetic about all the less squeaky clean things he’d like to do to his love, Flash tore his phone from his pocket and answered while hiding his red face, “D’uh, um, hello? Timber? Where’d you go?”

There was a pause while he listened, and then Flash remembered to turn on speaker phone.

“-next thing I know I’m back at camp on the roof of the counsellor’s cabin! I nearly fell off! This totally makes the top ten for Best Times I Almost Broke My Neck.”

Their wide eyes snapped up from the phone, wordlessly, breathlessly coming to the same realization almost all at once. The corners of Sunset’s mouth rocketed skywards. “Timber, you can teleport?!”

“Well, it’s either that or Rainbow Dash has some competition for the world’s fastest teenager.”

Rainbow Dash barked a laugh. “You wish, Spruce!”

Sunset groaned, but at least this time had a smile on her face as she did. “Sweet Celestia! You don’t even know how lucky you are! What I wouldn’t give to be able to teleport again.” Although, if Sunset had the power to teleport nowadays, she’d probably show up to her morning class in her pjs with her bed not far behind her.

That was the kind of magic from her old protégé days that she allowed herself to get nostalgic for. She could still remember Princess Celestia’s face when she read a teensy tiny bit ahead and learned teleportation years before her peers in magic kindergarten. Truthfully, though, at the time Sunset took to summoning spells much easier (mostly because she summoned the Princess every night for a bedtime story). These days, she’d much prefer to teleport. She wondered if she could use it to make visits to Equestria. She also wondered if she really had any home there to teleport to anymore.

If Princess Celestia was retiring, what did that mean for Sunset’s old room, her old stuff? It came as a shock when she checked, but the Princess kept her room not only intact but dusted and maintained. Sunset loved Princess Twilight, but would going home feel the same if Princess Celestia wasn’t still waiting for her with a warm tea and a warmer hearth in Canterlot Castle?

And where would Celestia go? What would she do if she wasn’t the reigning monarch? The Princess Celestia Sunset had been reunited with had had a better sense of humour than the one Sunset remembered, but Sunset still couldn’t picture a Princess Celestia of any kind lounging around on a beach somewhere on the coast of the Dowhinnycan Republic.

But if Sunset could teleport, that’s where she’d go. Visiting her ex-mentor in her twilight years to make sure she had all she could ever need and never felt alone. But then, Sunset had to remind herself that her ex-mentor had her sister back these days. Celestia wouldn’t need Sunset checking up on her. It would be silly to still want to rule by her side if there was no space left to fill.

Sunset hoped her soured mood wasn’t clear on her face, but the others were thankfully more focused on giving Timber some pointers.

“Magic ain’t too hard. For us, it’s all about feelings and music ‘n such,” Applejack said, speaking just a touch too loud as if she didn’t fully understand the concept of a call being on speaker. “Whenever I use my super strength, I focus on the job that needs doing and the magic summons the strength to do it! Focus on how you’d feel if you were somewhere you ain’t. Have ya tried not being where you are?”

“Uh... sure?”

“Oh hang on, hang on, give it here—” Rarity took the phone and elevated her voice to a proper volume. “Timber, dear, don’t listen to Applejack.”

“Okay, step one complete.”

Rarity closed her eyes, shutting out the world entirely which included Applejack and her unimpressed glare. “Now, I want you to picture a calm, blue ocean… there we are, isn’t that soothing? The waves... the beach... and, what’s this? Right next to the ocean is a sea-front spa!”

Rainbow Dash frowned. “There’s always a spa!”

“Mmm, yes,” Rarity agreed, in a trance, “There is always a spa…”

Twilight raised a finger. “I’m not really sure this is helping.”

“Has he tried meditating about being at Canterlot High?” Fluttershy piped up. “Meditation always helps me focus.”

“Ooo! Pretend you’re giving one of us a big ol’ hug until you are!” Pinkie suggested. The magic student in Sunset was sad to think that was probably the closest to a helpful how-to guide for using new magic powers so far. At least, it was the most likely to actually work.

The others gave various pieces of advice that even Sunset couldn’t quite comprehend —and not just because they started speaking on top of each other.

“Magical capability and reciprocity involves an exponential emotional output,” Twilight explained. “If I could send just send you some graphs—”

“Just, you know…” Flash made a pushing motion. “D’uh, you know?”

Dash waved her hands. “No, no, no. Think upwards!”

“Upwards?”

Sunset brought everyone’s stammering to an abrupt halt with a single and decisive: “Girls.”

Even Flash listened. She didn’t love having a sway over the room so easily, given what everyone must’ve been thinking about her wanting the throne again, but she had to admit it was useful.

Sunset took Flash’s phone in her hand. “Timber, listen up, okay? I can only really tell you how teleportation works in Equestria. It might be different on this side of the mirror, and no one’s really going to be able to tell you how to use your power, but it’s probably the closest thing to an instruction manual you’re ever going to get for your magic. Sound good?”

A shivery sigh blustered in the receiver of the phone. “I’ll take whatever you got. I… really don’t know how to get down from here otherwise.”

Sunset nodded. “Perfect.” Years had gone by since Sunset first learned to teleport, but even now, she could hear the patient guidance the Princess provided her frustrated pupil playing behind her ear. The Princess’s voice may as well have underscored her own. “Everyone’s first assumption with teleportation is that it’s about escape. Leaving for somewhere better. You can blame stage magicians for that, escape artists make it look easy. You have to be above the moment.”

“...And that means?” Timber sounded more confused than impatient. Foal Sunset definitely sounded impatient. Over-eager. Rushing headlong to a storybook ending she’d never end up reaching.

Holding back a grimace, Sunset shifted her weight, one hand tucked into the crook of her elbow. “I’ll put it like this: there’s more to being somewhere than wishing you were there, right? If you get too caught up sensing your current surroundings, you’re stuck in the moment. You’re not going anywhere. It’s not about escaping where you currently are because all that’s going to do is make you focus on being there.” Not that Timber or anyone else would know it, but Sunset quoted her mentor word for word: “Be above the moment.”

Cryptic instructions like that drove Sunset mad growing up. Sometimes she wondered if Princess Celestia kept everything wrapped in riddles to slow her down—take time to decode the lesson first before acing another one. It wouldn’t be out of character. When she wasn’t preparing her young protege to fight Nightmare Moon and end a Solar-Lunar war before it could ever begin, the Princess forced Sunset to stop and take in the view. Have a bit of a childhood, where possible.

If Celestia felt guilty for training a young filly to fight a colossal threat to the nation, Sunset always wanted to show her she didn’t have to be. She could exceed expectations. She could cope with a little extra pressure, and she could do it all in time for Nightmare Moon’s return and earn her place at Celestia’s side.

At least, that’s how she thought before the progress to perfection got to her head.

Closing her eyes, Sunset brought her attention back to the boy on the other end of the call, pressing the phone into her forehead and trying not to groan. “I know that sounds like total bull, and it’s too vague to be even remotely helpful, but you’re going to have to trust me on this because you can do this. You can. All you need to know is that someone believes you can, and even if you don’t, I do. I believe in you. Shut the world out and find your way from there.” She winced, head shaking, and could barely ask, “...Does that make any sense to you?”

A clatter came from the speakers and made Fluttershy flinch. Empty quiet reunited with the sound of far-off birds chirping only to themselves.

“Timber?” she asked, eyebrow floating up.

Sunset’s friends leaned in, and she asked again, but no answers came back. Not even one sarcastic remark.

His boyfriend’s total lack of sarcastic things to say had Flash clutching his chest. “Timber? Is he okay?”

Swinging a strong arm around Sunset’s shoulders, Rainbow Dash cackled hard like she had a cold to hack through. “That absolute madman! He did it! He teleported!”

Fluttershy’s eyes roved over the room. “But, um, where did he teleport to?”

The others looked around and held their breath. Searching their surroundings, the instruments by the chalkboard shone under fluorescent lights, undisturbed. The overpolished green tiles and construction-paper music notes on the walls held the room together like normal. Nothing moved. Nothing gave way. Not a single area came down with a case of abrupt teenage boy. The room had about as much teenage boy as it ever did.

Flash gawked at his phone with an expression so dripping with horror he could model for one of those Gooseflesh kids books. “Is he okay? He’s not dead, right? Where would he go if he didn’t come here?”

Sunset shrugged and made a vague sound somewhat resembling, “I’unno.”

“Sunset!” Flash yelped. “Why did you let him try if you didn’t know he’d be alright? Bring him back!” He held out the phone as if he wanted Sunset to conjure up his boyfriend by dialing the right number.

Sunset pushed the phone out of her face. “Relax, he’s not dead. I meant I don’t know where he’d go. I thought the destination part was pretty straightforward! Augh, human world magic is so needlessly complicated,” she grumbled, and then said, “I guess I should’ve taught him how to aim.”

“You guess?”

Twilight placed a hand on Flash’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll turn up soon. We have no reason to believe he’s not alright, wherever he is. He’s just not near his phone. We’ll all keep an eye out for him, okay?”

Flash frowned at the lock-screen picture of his new boyfriend cupped in his hands, then found a small smile to give to her. As mad as Sunset was earlier about the whole amplified empathy thing, she hated to see him so worried—which was why she didn’t dare wonder out loud if Flash somehow amplified Timber’s teleportation and sent him across the country.

Great, Sunset thought as her friends offered to host a lookout for his boyfriend. Two more people who have to deal with magic because of me. At least it’s really no wonder why Princess Celestia chose Twilight over me. Princess Twilight saves lives. I ruin them.

She did everything she could to put those thoughts aside and act like things were normal. Twilight was right. Timber was somewhere, and sending Flash into a panic attack wouldn’t bring Timber back any faster. She decided acting like things were normal was her best bet at being a good friend.

3. Dinner with the Stars

Sunset Shimmer needed a break from magical nonsense and thought her girlfriend deserved one, too. Thank Celestia for date night. If anyone ever wanted to be treated like royalty in Canterlot City, there was Le Grande’s. Once upon a time, a Sunset fresh from the portal found, to her horror and shuddering dismay, that Canterlot City boasted the most mom-and-pop shops per capita. Ew.

So, no, this mid-sized-to-backwater town would never be a stand-in for the grandeur of a mountainside castle-state, but for the refined eye, a precious few gems could be found hidden away. This might work, she thought, pulling up. Looking up at the mid-century modern facade, cursive name aglow in lights, Sunset prayed to Celestia this would be swanky enough to make Twilight feel like a queen.

Not that her girlfriend would ever ask for it. Apart from their first date at the senior year Fall Formal, all their dates had been lowkey. Easy. Everything was easy, no matter where they went. Days spent lounging around the Canterlot Cosmopolitan Museum, nights out at the Mustang drive-in, a regular booth at Sugarcube Corner, cuddling on the rooftop of CHS (Sunset's favourite spot to stargaze with her girlfriend)—assuming the two of them left Sunset’s couch or Twilight’s lab.

Okay, Sunset could admit she’d gone an itty bit lax on the proper courting etiquette that her days in the high-culture capitol of Equestria just about infused in her. She was glad she no longer had to think about ballroom dancing (as regrettably good as she was) or climbing the “ladder of matrimony” to woo her girlfriend, but Sunset’s old coltillion teacher would’ve been appalled. She could just hear Kibitz pedantiprattling now, loquacious and huffy as ever. What kind of eligible suitor was she? Where were her manners? How was she to represent the noble House of Celestia like this?

Then, twenty minutes of tut-tutting and browbeating Sunset would never get back. She hoped for his sake that Kibitz was cooler than she remembered.

Regardless, when putting on pants (and keeping them on...) was the noblest card in her deck, fine, it was maybe time to step up her game for the girl in her life. And in the case of Le Grand’s, pay out.

The only inkling of regret nibbling at the back of Sunset’s mind came from handing her motorcycle keys over to the valet. He was none too impressed to see her roll up on it. Even as she strode through the double doors on Twilight’s arm, Sunset craned her neck back in case she could catch the fancy-pants in the act of scratching the glossy paint job. “You think the valet’s ever driven a motorcycle before?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll figure it out,” Twilight murmured, tinkering with her perky bow-tie. The dress code at Le Grand’s all but explicitly required a tailor; lucky for them, they had Rarity. All else being equal, Sunset would’ve thought Twilight would show up in a dress, maybe something similar to the starry number she wore to the Fall Formal.

That was what Rarity had Sunset in: an off-the-shoulder sheath dress featuring a revealing slit at her lower thigh. Part of her Daydream collection. It beat sneakers and ripped jeans.

But Sunset had to admit, that midnight blue tuxedo, sporting a diagram of the big dipper over the lapel and a magenta bow-tie, held Twilight’s every curve dearly.

Every time Sunset looked over at her, she couldn’t stop smiling, and that was an improvement over the giggling disasters she and Twilight were when they first saw each other in their evening wear. Sunset had wolf-whistled. Twilight had slapped a hand over her heart. They’d both probably been as rosy as Twilight’s bow-tie; Sunset only saw the light in her girlfriend’s eyes, like binary stars in purple galaxies swirling around the ether of space. That, and a hot body that gave Sunset ideas.

Damn near enough ideas to make a girl think thoughts.

Had Sunset thought about it before? Every now and all the time. That suit wasn’t helping. Of course Twilight would be the one to get Sunset lost in thought... or spark a heat and curiosity down below. Holy Tartarus, Twilight.

If Rarity hadn’t been there, accessing these outfits and outfitting them with access to the Gala Galleria’s dressing rooms, Sunset couldn’t be trusted not to pull the dressing room curtains closed around the two of them. Down girl.

Twilight readjusted her bow-tie with too much concentration (even though it was already straight). An undeniable smirk popped up on Sunset’s face.

Standing in a queue for the guy at the glossy wooden podium, Sunset leaned in toward her girlfriend’s ear and stopped herself from starting down a trail of kisses. “Hey. You look beautiful tonight. If you don’t know that yet, there’s other ways I can convince you.”

Twilight suppressed a squawk and covered it up with a messy smile, bowling Sunset’s heart over in the process, to address the maître d'. “Hi there!”

“Good evening, miss. Or, rather, misses!” A fine-suited, mustachioed gentleman with but only the fanciest of pants assessed them. His kind eyes and good-natured smile cut any tension like the ribbon at a grand opening ceremony. “How may I serve you tonight?”

Sunset winked at Twilight. She suspected there was a joke in there somewhere about misses and casually calling her girlfriend the missus, but after that wink, Twilight’s complexion was already as purple and red as a bunch of boysenberries. Merciful, Sunset resigned herself to holding back her laugh. “Reservation for two, under Shimmer.”

“Excellent, Miss Shimmer! I’ll have our very best wait staff take you to your table.” The host tapped a silver bell with a white-gloved finger. The pitch-perfect ring summoned Flash Sentry in snugly-fitted button-down.

The smugness in Sunset’s smile collapsed. “Flash?”

“Girls!” He startled, fumbling his silver platter until he got a good grip on it as a shield in front of his torso. “Oh! Wow, you’re here! Together! Uh... table? You want to go to one?”

The host cleared his throat.

Flash’s eyes magnetized to his boss’s as he corrected, “Rather, may I escort you to your table?” He smiled when he received a nod and a smirk from the head wait staff.

Sunset really, truly tried not to snicker, following after him. A delicate perfume of extravagant foods grew more powerful as they ventured deeper into the tablecloth jungle. She whistled. “This is your part-time busboy job? You’ve been holding out on us, Sentry.”

Flash seemed to remember how to hold the platter properly instead of covering himself, but he averted his eyes away from the two of them. “Sorry, I guess I should’ve told you. I would’ve warned you I work here if I knew you, uh—” He flustered himself and had to adjust his collar. Sunset didn't entirely understand what had him so frazzled. He'd been her wing-man in getting Twilight to go out with her in the first place, and he gave her nothing but his blessing and dorkish excitement when Sunset told him they were girlfriends. “Um… anyway. Have either of you heard from Timber yet?”

Twilight bit her lip, and Sunset definitely didn’t notice just because her eyes had wandered over to her lips. “Not yet, but the girls are still out looking. We would have kept going with them, but Rarity said she wouldn’t hear of it. I think she would’ve added us to the list of missing friends if we skipped another date night for magical mishaps, especially when she put so much work into our outfits.”

“Yeah, she’d have your heads. She’s nice like that.” Flash nodded. He himself had spent the better part of the afternoon before his busboy shift searching, only agreeing to leave the search to the superheroes when he realized Rainbow Dash could cover more ground in ten seconds than he could ever hope to in ten hours.

The same was true for Twilight and Sunset. Really, the best help either of them could provide was Sunset attempting to use her empathy power on Flash’s phone itself to see if somehow the device had captured anything they hadn’t heard, but empathizing with inanimate objects proved impossible.

They arrived at an alcove of a booth parked behind a lushly lit fountain. The water feature trickled, a soft percussion to the live cello-piano duo stage-left. From what Sunset could see, they had the best seats in the house, and Sunset kind of wondered if it was because one of her best buds was their server.

The boy in question rubbed his collared neck. “So, uh, I’ll grab your order and let you do, you know, private date stuff. In private. Uh… yeah.” Flush in the face, Flash kept his eyes occupied with a little notepad he took from the smock he'd tied around his waist.

Sunset let Twilight order for both of them; Sunset knew her way around fine dining in Equestria, but human menus could still send her into an existential spiral if she wasn’t careful. It was also cute to hear Twilight’s voice in a different language, perfectly pronouncing Prench menu items (well, for all Sunset knew at least; she knew three different languages and none of them sounded this adorable).

Flash took the menus with an apologetic grin and Sunset made sure to give him a fist-bump. “Thanks, dude.”

He reciprocated before scurrying away to the fluttering double-doors Sunset could only guess led to the kitchen.

The two of them took one look at each other and erupted into a burst of giggles. Sunset held her forehead. “Seriously, the one place in town my ex works…”

“Chalk another one up to the law of trouble magnetism,” Twilight said, giggles overflowing. The classical cover of a pop song underscoring their chuckles made it seem like even more of a cosmic joke (especially considering the raunchy metaphors in the lyrics of that pop song; lucky the duo didn’t have a vocalist). “Well, you know what they say: the universe works in mysterious, scientifically fascinating ways. At this point, I’d be more worried if nothing went wrong around us!”

Sunset groaned, but she hoped the smile on her face distracted from the betrayal of her blushing cheeks. “Yeah, sorry, that’s on me. I’ve got this nasty habit of taking everyone I ever care about down with me. I should really quit that.” She only noticed Twilight wasn’t laughing anymore when she saw the way her eyebrows met over her eyes, but by then it was too late to pass off that self-degradation as a hilarious joke—which would usually be easy since Sunset’s life was a hilarious joke.

In the moments following, Sunset found her girlfriend’s gentle gaze impressing upon her. “I know I've asked already but… are you okay?” Twilight ventured. “Because I know you didn’t get a say in sharing your thoughts and feelings with the whole school, and that’s really invasive, and with Princess Twilight’s coronation—” She reached out to cup Sunset’s cheek. “Sunset, you know feeling a little jealous doesn’t make you a bad person, right?”

Sunset’s sigh shriveled up into nothing. “Yeah… no…” She leaned her cheek into her girlfriend’s hand. Her eyes met the insatiable purple of Twilight’s. “I don’t want to want to be an alicorn princess of Equestria anymore. It’s too much like who I used to be, and it feels so wrong to be anything but happy for my best friend.”

“But you are happy!” Twilight argued, then sank into her shoulders. “Um, sorry, those are your feelings. It’s hard to respect your privacy since I experienced them as my own. How do you empaths do it?”

“With as much permission as I can get. Starting now.” She really meant that. Even in that moment, her geode’s magic collected in the palms of her hands, as if knocking at the door, asking for her to let it in. As long as she held it back, she had full control.

Twilight offered a tender smile that, in the light of the candle between them, illuminated the dark. “My point was going to be that you are happy for her, from what I could feel. From everything you’ve shared with me about the Old You, the Old You wouldn’t be happy at all.”

“Well, that’s true,” Sunset agreed, “the Old Me would go on an all-out rampage: Find an army of teenage slaves and alicorn principals, stage a coup d'état—lie, cheat, steal, barter, maybe a little unholy dark magic to top it all off.” She shrugged. “All in all? Some scheme that would honestly probably earn her a glamorous life-long stay in the castle dungeons. At least she’d finally get time to learn the harmonica.”

“The princess me wouldn’t sentence you to learn the harmonica. Or to a dungeon!” Twilight assured her. “Even the Old You, who you aren’t anymore anyway.”

Sunset made a show of sighing, “And here I wanted to show off the Old Me’s excessive knowledge of silverware and table etiquette.” How much space in Sunset’s brain was wasted on knowing the difference between fancy pieces of cutlery? “Guess I’ll save the steamy stuff for our next date.”

The real gag was that if Twilight, in all her organization-loving dorkishness, actually was impressed by silverware terminology, Sunset would’ve shifted from sadonic to showing off real fast. She left the bait out in case Twilight wanted her to expound.

A pretty pink coloured her girlfriend’s cheeks as she laughed. “Oh wow, I almost forgot you actually do know proper table etiquette, don’t you?”

She shrugged in a guilty as charged manner. “Kind of have to when you’re a diplomat-in-training. High society is full of dumb pretenses, so I guess if you’re ever in a dire situation and you need to know a dessert fork from a salad fork, I’m your girl.” She winked.

Twilight looked at her like she was the most interesting person in the room. “It’s still so surreal to picture you like that.”

“Charming some snobby stiffs?”

“I don’t know, living in a castle? Sword fighting lessons with actual royal guards? Meeting world leaders? All of it,” she admitted. “The magical unicorn part is almost easier.”

“Yeah?” Sunset smirked, playing with one of the candles, watching the melted wax flow. “Why’s that?”

“You’re so down to earth,” Twilight told her, and Sunset tried not to smile too wide or braggadociously that she’d take that compliment back. “Not that you can’t be down to earth and have an appreciation for high culture⁠—I mean, I can’t pretend my family’s not well-off, too, but I don’t know. It’s just. My more recent friends there notwithstanding, any classmates I had back at Crystal Prep who had that many family connections at country clubs or rode show ponies at their summer homes could be... “ Her eyes searched the ceiling. “I’m trying to find a nice way to say snobby stiffs.”

Sunset cackled. “You get it! Oh my Celestia, I love you.”

“Well, prep students and humourless dignitaries are both⁠—o-oh, love you, too—they’re both cut from the same cloth, a-heh.” Twilight twirled her hair tress around her finger. Those three words still had a thrill with them sometimes, even though they’d said it as friends before ever dating. “But your old life sometimes sounds like it’s straight out of the story books I read when I was little. It’s really cute to me that you’d much rather spend your Saturdays playing video games in sweats. That’s so you. I like that.”

“Oh,” Sunset said, fumbling to not look as head-over-heels for this girl as she felt. Too late, screw it, she knows you have feelings. The fact that Sunset had been the one to say I love you for the first time as girlfriends had probably given it away. “Thanks, babe.”

“Even if I didn’t know you at the time, I do know how you feel—and, um, not just because I actually know how you feel since I felt your feelings.” Watching Twilight get hung up on details made Sunset want to lean across the table and kiss her.

She sometimes did that, like when they were studying and Twilight spiraled around and around in theory four years above their current academic level. It was a fun way of pulling her back to earth. Effective, too.

Other times, like now, she waited for Twilight to find her own way through the thicket of the no doubt thousands of thoughts in her head.

Twilight’s hands found their way back to fidgeting with her bow-tie. “I understand how you feel about the princess, I mean. It can be difficult when the point of comparison for everything you do is now a literal god-queen. What’s making the honour roll next to being the savior of a nation?”

Sunset barked a laugh and an odd smile quirked up. She’d just never had it said so plainly before. “Oh-ho-ho. Oh yeah. I get you. If it’s not one princess’s shadow I’m in, it’s another. You’d think I’d be used to it, but the shadows somehow keep growing longer.”

“Yeah, it’s exactly that!” Twilight brought her hands down from her forehead in a motion that seemed to say her thoughts were suddenly right in front of her. “How am I supposed to live up to all that?”

Sunset laid out her hand. “Right? There isn’t even a monarchy here if I wanted to measure up to her, and teenagers can’t run for president! I feel like I’m always behind by default! Not that it’s a competition, or that I even want that much power, because I don’t, but I almost feel like I should. But also shouldn’t ever touch any power ever again?” She groaned into her hand. “Aaand I’m probably not even making sense...”

Reaching to hold her arm, Twilight edged as close as the table between them would allow. “No, no, I understand what you mean completely! A-and she’s older than us, I’m decently sure, so gosh, does that mean I’m supposed to turn into her? Sunset, AP classes give me anxiety, and I’m good at those! Now I’m destined to—gah, I don’t even know! Charter world peace? Solve everyone’s friendship issues? Run for president?”

Sunset chuckled at the mental image of President Sparkle enacting and mandating a nation-wide book-club. “I think it means whatever you do, you’re going to be breathtaking. But I don’t need to compare you to anybody to know that.”

She could see Twilight’s breath still catching as she readjusted her bowtie for air.

“Hey.” Sunset offered her hand across the table and softened her smile like the downy blanket they wrapped themselves in to watch movies on her couch. “The only reason I know you’ll be great is because I think you’re already amazing. You’re my princess, okay?”

Her smile grew as Twilight took her hand and squirmed, giggling, in her seat. “Sunny…”

Sunset laughed too, but told her, “It’s true. Sappy, but I stand by it.” And she repeated, “You’re my princess.”

Something twinkled at the sides of Twilight’s eyes, but she didn’t bother to wipe them. The candlelight turned her tears to stars. “...This is what I mean when I say you’re a sweetheart, but you never listen!”

The laugh between them shattered glass ceilings. It felt like the weight of the world lodged on her shoulders had dissolved. For the first time in recent memory, Sunset felt Celestia-damn limitless, and not a drop of magic was required. But then, she was the magic scholar; she could argue her roaring laugh mixing with Twilight’s teary-eyed giggles was, justifiably, a magic all its own.

“We seriously need a way to get these compliments through our stubborn heads,” Sunset said, still chuckling. “Like when I say you’re brave, it’s because I think you’re brave, and you should know it.”

“Fine, I’m… I’m brave, then.” Twilight conceded. “So, when I say you’re a good friend to the girls, that’s code for you’re a good friend to the girls, including Princess Twilight. And you deserve to feel like you are.” She smiled, proud of herself for covering all bases.

Sunset fought the urge to argue that she’d gotten all of them in more danger than she was worth. She swallowed that shame instead. “Alright. I’m a good friend,” she allowed, and felt empowered to see Twilight’s patient smile telling her she’d done well to say it, even if it was hard to fully believe anymore. “But when I say I believe in you... you know that doesn’t mean you could ever let me down, right? It means I believe in you because I know who you are now.”

“I know,” Twilight promised, cheeks glowing fuchsia in the candle light.

“Good,” Sunset told her in a calming tone. “Because I believe in you. You’ll be a great leader of the Rainbooms next time we go into battle.”

Twilight’s eyes expanded larger than some dessert plates. “What?! Sunset—” She culled her volume, catching the eye of nearby tables and releasing it with a sheepish smile. “No, no, no, no, Sunset, no. I’m ‘brave’, but I’m no friendship expert. I’m a mess!”

“You say that like I’m not a mess,” Sunset mused. She could see the rebuttals bubbling behind Twilight’s scared eyes and put up a hand. “Before you say no, just hear me out: I’m not saying this because I want you to be like how Princess Twilight was with them. You’re already everything they could ever need.”

The blush on Twilight’s cheeks was promising, and Sunset’s smile teased one out of Twilight’s lips. Twilight gifted her a little laugh. “You might be a little biased, sweetie. I’m your princess.”

Sunset grinned. "Yeah, you are, but I’m also right. I think they’re going to need you when all this stuff with King Sombra comes to a head. If I know evil overlords—and I’m speaking as an ex-overlord wannabe here—he’s not going to lie in wait forever. If we have someone to unify us, we might stand a chance. You know the value of friendship better than anyone!”

Twilight sighed, “I was also a lonely social reject until relatively recently and, even if I logically know it won’t happen, that the girls and I wouldn’t let it happen... I’m sometimes still terrified I’ll end up that way again. Who’s to say he won’t prey on that?”

Sunset faltered. She should’ve anticipated her girlfriend’s quick-thinking, but hearing that stuck thorns into her heart. She shook her head. “... Well, if he does, I’m an easy target, too. I know the girls trust me, but…” She shook her head, drawing out the I in: “I don’t always know if they should. I keep leading them into danger.”

She could see the words wash over Twilight until her expression collapsed into a small, nervous smile. “I suppose that’s the thing about having great friends like ours. It’s so much scarier to think about losing them.”

Sunset nodded. “They’re family now. I haven’t had that in years.” Even now, when the word came out of her mouth, her first thought was them. Or Princess Celestia, if she was honest. Anything beyond that was too far back to reach. Could she even call them that after putting them through so much danger?

Regarding her, Twilight’s smile took a turn for the better. “You know? This might sound a little weird, but I think I’m not afraid of losing you. And I’m always afraid I’ll lose everyone! I’ve been alone for so long, I think it’s only logical, but then, even if I’m still worried I’ll end up locked away in a lab again, when I think about you...” Twilight Sparkle could only shrug. “I don’t feel alone anymore.”

“I’m not afraid of losing you, too.”

Sunset had a theory then that fate was a feeling. She could work all her life and never understand its magic. But right now? She felt fate. Sure beyond contentment. If the Fates themselves had told her that everything in her life up until this point brought her right here, sitting across from this girl, the only thing she’d ask them was why it had to take so damn long.

She’d never been patient.

Twilight’s bitten lip seemed to say the same thing. Her hand moved over Sunset’s, and combined with the unreadable look to her brilliant eyes, it woke up a warmth in Sunset’s stomach. “Sunset?” she asked, her voice softer than before. “...Do you really think I’m brave?”

“Yeah,” she murmured without hesitation.

A flurry of heat burned in Twilight’s cheeks, brighter and more hypnotizing than any fire Sunset had ever watched burn in her old room’s hearth. “Good… then I’m gonna say something a little brave.” The words built and built behind her eyes until Sunset couldn’t take waiting and would have kissed it right out of her if Twilight hesitated a second longer. A pent up sigh released, and she said, “Ohhh gosh, okay, I’m really saying this. I think I—that is, I know, but it’s okay if you don’t know! I do, and I…” Red shimmered on her cheeks. “Whenever you’re ready, I want you to be my first, Sunset.”

Suddenly hyper-aware of all the other fancy restaurant patrons out of earshot, Sunset could feel the heat spread from her stomach all the way to her face. But her smile was downright weightless. “Yes! Holy mother of Tartarus, Twilight, all this time I didn’t want to rush you!”

“Wait, really?” Twilight asked, delighted to the degree that she didn’t know what to do with herself, as if it wasn’t obvious Sunset had it beyond bad for her. There was a conspiratory way to how low they kept their voices. “Oh my gosh, okay. Yeah! Wait.” Her eyes ballooned with curiosity. “‘All this time’? How long…?”

Sunset brought out a raunchy grin. “For me?” She saw her girlfriend nodding. “Since the Fall Formal.”

“Our first date? You mean you would’ve…?”

Sunset smiled, leaning into her hand. “Oh yeah.”

Groaning, Twilight slapped her forehead, rattling her genius brain. “I can’t believe I missed the signals! Well, actually I can. But still! We could’ve⁠—! All this time!” She hesitated. “On the subject, can I ask a personal question?”

Sunset leaned in. “Go for it.”

“Okay. Okay! I’ll preface this by saying I have no preference either way, a-and no judgement, but, um, out of curiosity, have you ever had sex before?”

Sunset grinned.

“And you have experience!” Twilight slapped her forehead again. “All this time! Since our first date!”

Sunset laughed, wishing there wasn’t this stupid table between them. “It’s okay. Even if I really wanted to back then, I’m glad I waited. The night ended where it did for a reason. We needed time to learn how to be a couple first.” She cupped her hand on Twilight’s cheek, just scraping by the line of public decency. “Looks like we’re pretty fast learners, huh Sparky?”

Twilight took a breath, and Sunset thought she could see her stopping herself from shuddering. Sunset didn’t care if she lost every penny of this fancy reservation and they left right that second, but she didn’t get the chance. Partly because she didn’t know if the gem she’d used to pay was technically hers if it came from Princess Celestia originally.

But mostly because Timber Spruce came crashing down onto the table.

Sunset startled back and Twilight shrieked. The table proved to be surprisingly sturdy for having an entire teenage boy slammed down onto it, but the candle clattered to the floor, rudely displaced. The other restaurant patrons gasped, and a wellspring of scandalized voices sprung up afterwards. Heart pounding for the last reason she would have wanted, Sunset glared at the boy between her and her girlfriend.

When Timber saw their faces, a grin wide enough to span seas graced his face. “Girls! Oh man, okay, you have no idea how glad I am to see you! I went to Northway!”

“Timber?” Twilight sputtered, lowering her hand from her geode. “Where did you—how did you—what!?”

Timber’s hands jumped to his head, which was now outfitted with a Northdic knit hat with ear-flaps rather than his regular beanie. “Oh man, I had a day. So I was trying really hard to use my teleportation power, and I maybe overshot Canterlot High by a few hundred thousand miles to the northeast? I didn’t know I could do that! Drained the ever-loving everything out of me, and it took me a long time to recharge. I thought I’d have to buy a plane ticket home, honestly. That’s when I met a lovely fisherman named Oslo who became my new best friend and gave me this nifty hat!” He flapped the ear-flaps, then snagged a look at Twilight and made a little impressed noise. “Oh hey, new suit! Looks good.”

“Timber,” Sunset warned in much the same way the plumes of ash and smoke rising from a volcano warned of an imminent eruption. She might have exploded already if she wasn’t so impressed with the sheer magical feat he’d pulled off. Even when she had the ability to teleport, Sunset herself had only ever traveled that far two times in her life—both out of pure necessity, and both times she’d been left feeling hungover and damn near empty.

He moved to dethrone himself from their table, but his legs wobbled on contact with the floor, and he had to catch himself on the tablecloth. He whistled. “That… that was a ton of energy for one day…”

Sunset and Twilight both braced an arm. As a naturally gifted magician herself, Sunset remembered almost too well what spell burnout felt like: a heavy ache dragging her down, like she’d been electrocuted. Concern filled Twilight’s eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I think so?” he asked, mostly directed toward Sunset, who nodded. Aside from oversleeping past his alarm tomorrow morning, he’d probably be fine. Although, Timber also seemed to finally take in their elegant surroundings. “But why are we at Flash’s work? And hey, you’re both all snazzy looking. What’s the occas—” His eyes flared out. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Sunset grumbled.

Timber looked all too similar to the way Spike did when he’d chewed through some critical computer wires in the lab. The difference was Timber also muttered in a tiny voice, “Okay, but... why did you go on a date where Flash works?”

Sunset glowered at him. “Apparently so I could give him back his boyfriend. Come on.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he said, sounding more grateful than anything.

The two of them would have happily parted ways then if not for the explosive magical force between them. The best point of comparison to Sunset was getting hit with a magic projectile. But even worse than a scorching hot combat spell, the magic disoriented her to the point of vertigo. She wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d been airlifted by a tornado for how turned around she felt. Her own senses played tricks on her.

Even her sense of balance was wonky. She wobbled back, backing into the wall sooner than she expected. She groaned, “What the f—”

She slapped a hand over her mouth. That was far deeper and more nasally than her own voice. But then it didn’t even feel like her own face either. The cheeks were so much more slender, and the hands grabbing it were so much thicker than her own.

As if that wasn’t confusing enough, she didn’t entirely know what she was looking at. A girl who looked like Sunset’s reflection gone rogue rubbed her forehead. Is that… the human me? Did I go through some kind of portal?

Neither of those thoughts made sense to her since she was still in Le Grand’s, but at the moment, her brain struggled to adjust to a dozen different things, each weirder than the last. She was taller than a second ago. Her eyesight was better, and she hadn’t even known there was detail she’d been missing before. Her body felt well and truly exhausted.

A chill trickled into her heart. But she realized it wasn’t really her heart.

She watched Twilight try to help the girl who looked like Sunset, asking, “Are you alright? Sunset, what was that?”

And the girl stared at her, completely baffled, before getting a look at what Sunset currently looked like. “Hey, Twilight? Why am I over there?”

4. You and Lonely You

Sunset Shimmer hated seeing herself next to her girlfriend. Intensely. And, okay, self-loathing she’d done before. She was practically a master of masochism. There’d been days after her hellish transformation at the junior year Fall Formal that she didn’t even want to see her own face in the mirror, and only partially out of a paranoia she’d find soulless demon eyes staring back. Celestia, she’d been a mess.

This was a new headache-inducing level, especially because it wouldn’t even be her head that was aching.

“What do you mean ‘over there’?” Twilight asked, squinting at Timber who shrunk away from her touch. The subtle hurt in Twilight’s eyes made Sunset want to punch Timber, but then she’d only be punching herself.

“Hey!” Timber hollered as he floundered back, again using Sunset’s voice. It reminded Sunset of how she sounded to herself in recordings when the Rainbooms sprung to record some of their songs: a little higher pitched than she would have assumed she sounded to other people, but in this case that also could’ve been the sheer panic.

Twilight drank in the two of them, clearly undecided on who was acting weirder. Sunset resented the fact that Timber twisted around, shrieking at each new facet of his new body—her body. Although in all honesty, she wasn’t making Timber look much more dignified. Sunset ran a hand through her new wild curls and tried (and likely failed) to hide her dismay that Timber’s biceps were leagues stronger than hers based on how easy it was to flex.

Judging by Twilight’s paled expression, she connected the dots like constellations in a star map. Her eyes grew as she looked toward Sunset. “Wait… Sunset Shimmer?”

Sunset tore her gaze up from examining her now work-worn hands. She almost didn’t want to open her mouth and hear herself speak in Timber Spruce’s voice again, but something in her expression was enough to confirm it.

“Ooo… oh boy,” Twilight murmured, fresh horror settling over her expression as Timber clapped his hands over his backside, blushing.

“Is everything okay?” Flash bounded over from the kitchen, only sparing a single apologetic glance to the other alarmed restaurant guests before spotting Sunset. A smile lifted up his whole face. He clutched at his own chest, the breath leaving him like a spirit. “Timber! We were looking everywhere for you! Are you okay? Where did you even go? There was a search party and—”

Sunset pushed a hand into his chest before Flash could get any closer. “Dude, dude! I’m not Timber!”

That was enough to knock the enthusiasm from Flash’s face. “I, uh... what?”

“I don’t know how it happened, but I’m Sunset,” she affirmed, weirding herself out. She jacked a thumb to the left. “That’s Timber.”

They turned to find Timber smushing his cheeks at his reflection in the fancy water fountain as if he could put his face back to normal if he tried hard enough. Frankly, it was a better theory than any Sunset had since she had no earthly idea how or why this happened.

Fancy Pants wasn’t far behind Flash when he heard the commotion they had caused in his dining area. He cleared his throat, and the disapproval in that alone told Sunset she wouldn’t be getting her reservation refunded.

If it wasn’t official before, human-world Equestrian magic sucked.

The keys took a little jimmying to unlock the door to Sunset’s apartment. Sunset gave it an extra rough twist. One thing or another perpetually needed repairs around here: leaky faucet, wonky heater, even busted electricity for the whole complex once.

The door finally deemed them worthy enough to enter, deining to let them in. Instantly, Sunset was met with a weird sensation: being able to detect her own smell as if this was another person’s home or like she’d gone on vacation for a long time. It wasn’t a bad smell, at least. Kind of sweet in fact, in a musky sort of way.

At least the smell wasn’t something she had to worry about, but she hadn’t exactly been expecting guests, so her apartment was a bit of a mess, take-out boxes and laundry galore. Fantastic, she thought. Now Timber thinks I live in a dump.

Sunset led the way, followed closely by her lookalike who gaped at the place like he couldn’t believe someone could live here. Timber stood by the two-story window, watching the fat snowflakes settle down over the city through lights closer to lighthouses than streetlights, before he grinned at her. “Whoa, this is your apartment? You live in a sit-com!”

Shoving a leftover Ponyacci’s Pizza box into the trash and turning on the heater that would take too much time to kick in, Sunset furrowed her brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Timber raced from the window to the futon as if doing so would hurtle him forward through time to Hearth’s Warming morning. Sunset didn’t know if she’d ever seen herself so excited. Maybe felt that way, sure, but she doubted she had a mirror handy when it happened. Timber bounced on the futon. “This is the kind of place people live in on TV! You know, downtown vista view, within walking distance of your friends, actually hearing cars from the street driven by real live people?” He turned back with a childlike smile on his face. “You live like this?”

“Uh, yeah,” she sputtered, leaning against the post holding up her second floor, arm overhead. “It’s no palace, but what is in this economy?”

Sunset Shimmer understood little to nothing about the human economy other than the fact that people made jokes about it. She was fine with this.

While Timber made her look like a doofus in her own home, Sunset noticed a familiar face outside on the fire escape. She went over past the couch to open the window for a fat orange tabby cat. Sunset smirked at him. “How do you even get yourself up there, fatso?”

“Mrreow,” said the cat, wriggling out of Sunset’s grasp to plop down on the hardwood.

Timber gasped, watching the stray slink around the couch on silent paws. “And you have a cat!? Seriously, are we on a sit-com sound-stage right now?”

“Yeah, he’s mine, but try telling him that. I found him in an alley on my walk to school, and one day he followed me back here. He does what he wants.” Sunset folded her arms, proud of the little monster. “These days he usually finds a way home at night, but I let him come and go as he pleases. Couldn’t stop him if I wanted to.”

The alley cat crept up to the couch, paused, then jumped up to find a good sitting spot which just so happened to be on Timber’s lap—a fact that delighted Timber to no end. “Holy crap! He likes me!”

Sunset frowned. “Wait, no, he likes me. Stop it, you’re confusing him.”

Timber scratched under the kitty’s fuzzy little chin. “Aww, he’s just a lil’ hobo, huh? Is that his name? Lil’ Hobo?”

“He’s not a hobo,” Sunset said, choosing not to mention the box the cat was living in beforehand. “He just chooses to live his own life and only go home when he wants. What’s wrong with that?”

Her kitty decided now was a good time to start kneading Timber’s thigh as if preparing dough for delectible muffins. Timber giggled like a dork. “Oh my goodness, he’s such a good boy! Okay, really what’s his name? Lucky? Houdini? Chance? Ooo, I know! Warlock, Master of Equestrian Magicks.”

“...his name is Scruffers,” Sunset mumbled, arms crossed. “And sometimes he’s a good boy.”

Rather than snickering at her, Timber was too busy using Sunset’s Pet Owner voice, the not quite baby talk (but yeah, baby talk) that she only ever did in total privacy. “N’awww, lil’ Scruffers Shimmer! Your Mama must love you so much! I would have gone with Macaroni, but that’s even better. That’s a good name for a baby boy, yes it is, yes it is!”

In some weird twist of fate, Sunset suspected Scruffers would have preferred the name Macaroni since the dumbbell ate a whole pot of it once when Sunset left it out on the counter. Made himself sick, too. Sunset stayed up with him that whole night until he was done coughing up noodles. She made sure Scruffers knew where his food bowl was from then on.

Sunset sighed, plopping down next to Timber. “Okay, he likes you a little bit. You can make friends with my cat after we figure this out, alright?”

They’d already tried switching back after they were kicked out of Le Grand’s and again when Twilight and Flash had to head home because it was getting too late, but Sunset wasn’t Equestria’s most naturally gifted magical prodigy for nothing. Even if all her records had likely been broken by Princess Twilight.

With determination steeling her mighty gaze, she held out her hand as if to start an arm-wrestling match or, failing that, declare a thumb-war. “One more time. Concentrate, okay?”

Timber nodded, grabbing her hand and shutting his eyes. He let Scruffers down from his lap, whom waddled off in search of his food bowl, just in case the cat got swept up in their body switching magic. “On it, boss.”

As far as Sunset could tell, touch had been a huge factor in everyone’s magic-sharing so far. Flash and Timber discovered they had magic by holding hands, she and Twilight learned they could heal the same way, and Flash only needed to touch her shoulder to put her emotions on blast across Canterlot High’s entire campus.

She suspected it wasn’t necessarily required for it to happen. Mostly because if Timber’s teleportation power wasn’t somehow amplified by Flash today, Timber had unbelievable reach with that thing.

Maybe touch is a conduit, the mage-in-training inside her thought. It makes the connection stronger, but if you’ve got a strong enough connection already, you could probably do it hands-free.

She gripped Timber’s hand tighter. Technically, she gripped her own hand tighter, which she still hadn’t been able to fully wrap her head around. Sunset grimaced. “Okay. This is new magic, but it’s more than likely bound to work on the same rules as every other magic I’ve encountered in this world. So, that narrows it down. A bit. It’s either we were demonstrating the truest parts of ourselves at the same time, our friendship was really powerful, or we had something important in common.”

Timber pressed his lips together. “So… anything in common?”

“Not anything. Magic is always emotion-based at its core. That’s why true friendship is so powerful,” Sunset reiterated. She could feel her throat constrict as she thought back to what she was feeling before the switch when her date with Twilight had been interrupted. “Timber?”

He was focusing so hard he made her look constipated, but he opened one teal eye. “Yeah, new best friend?”

“You have to be honest with me, okay? We need to fix this,” she warned, the anger building behind her deeper voice like a storm gathering in the distance over the sea. “What were you feeling right before the switch?”

Timber made Sunset’s face look unreadable. “Happy to be back,” he told her. “I spent most of the day in a foreign country taking fishing lessons from a Northweigian ice-fisher. I didn’t know if I could get back on my own. I felt bad for spoiling your date, but mostly, I just felt relieved I hadn’t teleported into a Haywaiian volcano.”

She studied him for a moment longer but didn’t overdo it. Accusing Timber of wanting to steal her girl wouldn’t solve anything (maybe from his perspective wanting to steal her back?), nor would it make them bond as friends. What was weirder, though, was how they had enough of a bond to share magic at all.

She didn’t want to say it aloud and ruin their chances at swapping back, but she felt like she barely knew Timber. Any of the girls or Flash she could understand sharing a strong, mystical bond with: she’d worked her ass off for those friendships and all of them had done the same in turn. She let Timber close his eyes again to concentrate but kept her gaze trained on him. So why Timber?

After a good hour or so of trying anything and everything Sunset could think of, along with some admittedly inventive suggestions from Timber, the two of them sighed simultaneously—which was about the only thing they could do in tandem, apparently.

Sunset ran a hand through her hair, both messing up the wild green curls and taking off the Northweigian hat in the process. She swore, which she hadn’t heard Timber’s voice do before. “It’s getting late. Maybe we should… try again in the morning?”

Timber nodded, rubbing his neck and chewing his cheek. “Yeah. I dunno know about you, but my body needs its beauty sleep.” He looked at her earnestly. “Wait, do you actually need less sleep than a human?”

She made a face. “I know you think I’m an alien, but I’m not literally from outer space, you know that right?”

“Yeah, it’s just, horses need about two or three hours of sleep on average and you’re a pony so I thought… nevermind.” He wiped the air clean like a chalkboard. “Human body. Probably has human body needs. That’s logic for you.”

“Pfft. Yeah. I’m a pony, but I love sleep too much to only ever get a power-nap.” She stood up, stretching out the extra gangly legs and surprisingly muscle-toned arms she now possessed. It still bugged her to feel how strong Timber’s body was. She crossed those stupidly strong arms over her flat chest.

That was also going to take some getting used to—and she knew from when the mirror turned her into a human that this sort of adjustment could take a while to feel completely natural. Months, at the earliest.

Sunset just hoped she wouldn’t have the time to adjust.

“You can take the couch for tonight. It folds down,” Sunset told him, which made his eyes light up again as if that was the real magic going on here. She watched him play with the couch. “I’ll be upstairs in the bed, if you need anything.”

“You know, technically speaking, since I’m you wouldn’t the bed be…” He saw her expression and managed to live to tell the tale. Timber nodded. “Yours. Yep, that sure is your bed.”

In getting ready to sleep, it wasn’t exactly like Sunset could follow her usual bedtime routine. (Okay, even on a non-magical night, ‘routine’ was an extremely loose term to the point of not having a definition; assuming she didn’t stay up until the sun rose playing video games and/or recording Shimmer Code, Sunset only crashed when she felt like it). Everything was different. In fact, she only got to the point of opening her pajama drawer before a tsunami of blood rushed to her cheeks. “...Tartarus.”

She thumped partway down the staircase from the loft. “So… how do we… do we just stay in our day clothes?”

Timber, who had ditched the heels but was still wearing the Daydream dress from Sunset’s date, stared up at her. “Or new ground rule: we just, you know, close our eyes and don’t touch the delicates. Even if you accidentally peek, you haven’t seen worse in the locker rooms at school, right?”

She eyed him. “Okay,” she allowed, “but you’re not going to peek, right?”

Timber made a motion with his hand Sunset didn’t recognize but followed it up by saying, “Scout’s honour. No peeking.”

After a moment’s doubt, she threw a pair of pajamas at his face. She thought he’d appreciate having Flash’s old shirt she’d forgotten to give back from way back when they were dating.

He let her change first in the bathroom. She managed it alright, keeping her eyes shut and feeling around as little as possible. The shirt with her cutie mark on the front was backwards the first time she tried, and even when fixed, it rode up Timber’s taller body, but it would do.

Then when it was Timber’s turn, all was fine until he came out of the bathroom grinning. Sunset was beginning to not trust her own smile. “You have a tattoo?!”

Bolting up from the couch, Sunset glowered at him. “Dude! What happened to scout’s honour?!”

“Oh, sorry no, that sounds bad. I wasn’t looking around! I saw it in the mirror when I turned away, just out of the corner of my eye. Getting a tattoo between the shoulder blades must’ve been painful, though, it’s right on the spine.” It had been, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. Timber held up his hands in the very likely event she would attack but grinned as if they were having a friendly conversation over milkshakes at Sweet Snacks Diner. “It’s a nice design. What’s the sun mean?”

Determined to keep glaring at him, Sunset was quickly getting frustrated that Timber didn’t intimidate easily. Maybe she was a little rusty at thuggish intimidation? That should’ve been a comfort but at the moment was just annoying. She could feel the flush in her cheeks, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. “...It’s an important symbol in Equestrian culture,” she murmured, because that wasn’t totally a lie. Many ponies would contend that Princess Celestia’s cutie mark held more cultural significance than any other symbol in the nation’s history. Is that going to change to Princess Twilight’s cutie mark now? Will everypony forget about Princess Celestia?

She blanched. If Princess Twilight was taking over for the Princess and her sister, what would happen to Celestia and Luna? Where would they go? What would they do? The idea of Princess Celestia retiring weighed down like a stone sat in her stomach, heavy and indigestible.

Timber bit his cheek, nodding. At the very least, he could read when he’d touched a nerve, but that didn’t stop him from picking up the smart TV remote. “That’s cool, it sounds really meaningful.” And almost without a breath in between he went on, “You wanna see what I mean about sit-coms? I swear there’s at least one show with a studio apartment like this on prime time at any given point. Plus, you can tell me about what kind of shows you like.” He waggled the remote from the couch. “Sharing interests is one of the best ways to bond, new best friend.”

Sunset snorted softly. “That’s… not the worst logic I’ve ever heard. Although I've never ponyed up from watching movies with the girls.”

He pointed the clicker at her as if he could change that attitude of hers. “Sounds like you’re not watching the right movies.”

In all the many times in her life that Sunset had rolled her eyes they’d always been her own, but doing it in Timber’s body wasn’t really a new experience to write home about. She was at least glad to feel the heater starting to kick in. She didn’t have heavy blankets to offer him, just the one Rarity knit for her when Sunset mentioned she didn’t have a lot last winter.

It wasn’t long after the Battle of the Bands, actually, during the first holiday season Sunset spent with anyone since her Hearth’s Warmings alongside Princess Celestia. A smile guided itself up. She remembered how it felt to have that blanket wrapped around her shoulders while Pinkie Pie gave her a mug of hot chocolate just like the rest of her friends. Their friends.

The girls can help us tomorrow, she thought, kicking herself for worrying. They always help me figure things out.

Sparing a glance towards the static of snow out the window, Sunset smiled at Timber, who’d wrapped that cozy blanket around himself in front of the television. “Nah. Think I’ll get that beauty sleep your body needs. You can watch what you want, the TV has a lot of shows,” she informed him. There had been plenty of times back in Equestria that she would’ve loved to change channels on a play Princess Celestia dragged her to (if she knew what changing channels was back then).

The channel he happened to flick onto, the Canterlot Broadcasting Corporation, and their gruff evening news host passed it over to their junior news correspondent, Gabby Griffon. Gabby rambled on with an impressive, if squeaky lung capacity, pointing towards an on-screen graphic: a live feed of the rip in space-time above Canterlot City. After an excessively flashy news intro with its own theme music, the phrase CrackWatch scrolled across the screen on repeat.

Timber snorted like a fourth-grader.

“Thanks, Gruff!” A “feh” could be heard from off-screen but Gabby seemed undisturbed. “This freaky-deaky meteorological event is still super duper loco in the coco! But that’s why we’re keeping you up to date with our ‘round the clock coverage! No need to be afraid!”

Timber hummed. “Well, glad there’s no need. I’m ahead of the game.”

Sunset frowned. ‘Round the clock coverage? Are people that worried?

“Day thirty-seven of CrackWatch! Today at noon, the crack ate a bird and spat it back out on the other side on fire! Our avian experts say that isn’t normal, but that somehow the lil’ guy is in… beak condition!”

Sunset squinted at the footage on the screen. Her eyes bulged and she rounded the couch to get a better look. "Holy shit, is that a phoenix?"

The flames shimmered in familiar patterns, much the same way Sunset's pet phoenix used to back in Equestria. Despite being in the wrong body, muscle memory brought back the sensation of the burns she got from cuddling her little baby. She held her arm. She remembered it all too well to mistake the colouring and intensity for anything but a full-blown phoenix. What the hell's on the other side of that tear?

Timber didn't seem to know what to think. He looked to her to gauge how spooked he should be.

If Twilight's law of trouble magnetism had any truth to it, and Celestia help them if it did, Sunset couldn't help shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong with that tear. She hadn't studied omens extensively in her time under the Princess, mostly because she'd been too prideful to admit anything would ever go wrong for her ever, but she didn't need her old text for Intro to Omens and Prophecy to forewarn her that her heart was sinking.

Timber must have sensed her shift in mood and changed the channel to something with a laugh-track. He offered the space on the couch next to him.

Sunset bade him goodnight without much of a second glance, and it really wasn’t to be rude, but she was exhausted. She’d inherited a body that had used an obscene amount of magic that day, teleporting across the globe and back and not even to mention the body swap itself. She could feel it most in Timber’s calves, possibly because of the landings.

But, really, that was only half the reason. Only stopping to fill Ray's food bowl and give him a pet that he slunk away from, she clambered up to bed (on muscles she could already tell would be sore in the morning) partly because watching TV with the guy who barged in on what should’ve been one of the most magical nights of her life left, to put it lightly, a bit of a sour taste.

Even Scuffers, who’d parked himself in his spot on the end of her bed, got up and slunk away when she came to give him his night-time snuggles. She sighed. That cat didn’t play well with others.

Down below, almost too fast for that lazy cat to move, she heard Timber chuckle, “Oh, why hello, Sir Scruffington!”

Grumbling, Sunset flopped over on the bed and frowned down at the feet now hung off the end of her double-sized bed. Even despite that, the bed felt empty and vast for the first time since she’d gotten it, but all she could really do about it was hug the extra pillow next to her with the sounds of a sit-com playing with the volume low down below.

An unshakable chill settled over Canterlot High. Despite what the weather reporter predicted, the snow stayed overnight and the winter storm carried on. At this point, the snow drifted soundlessly, gathering below boots and piling onto the base of the broken Wondercolt statue.

The school itself was tropically warm by comparison, so Sunset could get away with not wearing a winter jacket. She’d tried to put on her leather jacket this morning, but Timber’s arms and torso were so much longer than her that she looked like a dweeb trying too hard to be cool. Plus, even if she was currently residing in it, she didn’t like the look of Timber’s body in one of her jackets. Too weird.

As the morning announcements began over the loudspeaker, the two of them walked through the front entrance side by side. Sunset watched him undo the leather jacket he was wearing to stay in character. “If we can’t switch back ourselves,” she said, grimacing, “maybe the girls and I can pony-up and use that magic to set things right again. We’ve still got time before Princess Twilight’s coronation.”

No one should have to endure that coronation as me. All that pity… Sunset shuddered. She also tried to reason that she shouldn't even be worried about that yet. One problem at a time, for one, and for two, the coronation was still a while off. They’d only just sent off the RSVP. If all went as planned today, Princess Twilight wouldn’t have to be bothered with another one of Sunset’s magical screw-ups.

Timber looked like he had too many questions about the magical undo button she’d just suggested, but Derpy and Bulk Biceps waved good morning as they passed by her locker. “Morning, Sunset! Hope you’re feeling better!”

“Oh, hey!” Timber said brightly, without missing a beat while Sunset had to stop herself from raising her hand.

Passing by, Vinyl Scratch gave him a fist bump followed by another wave from Dizzy and his boyfriend. Juniper Montage even pointed a camera his way. Timber flashed the lens a winning smile, which made Juniper herself light up behind the camera. She stopped recording to review that bit of footage with Wallflower Blush who nodded approvingly.

“Thanks for the great shot!” Juniper gushed, replaying it over and again. “The lighting in the halls is so meh but that showmanship! You could give me a run for my money.” Sunset highly doubted that; she’d seen Juniper’s demo reel (her rendition of Shadow Spade and the fierce pirate Captain Celaeno were downright awards-worthy). Unless she meant being a total ham, in which case, sure, Timber could out-ham a hog on Applejack’s farm. At the very least, it seemed to make Juniper and Wallflower happy. “That’s going to be so perfect for our production, Canterlot High: A Retrospective…”

“Hey, anytime,” Timber told her, and when he and Sunset had gotten far enough down the hall that the other students couldn’t overhear, Timber beamed to her. “You didn’t tell me you were a celebrity. I would’ve bought stupidly overpriced shades! I would’ve called my sister and told her I made it!”

“I’m not,” Sunset muttered, noticing confused looks from the other students when she tried waving at them. She gave up, shoving her hands in her pockets like she’d seen Timber do on habit before. “Welcome to Canterlot High.”

Sandalwood came up to them next, looking pensive and unsure before giving Timber a great big bearhug.

“Whoa!” Timber froze at first, then let himself hug back with a small smile. “...Heh. Uh, hi to you too, big guy...”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “You can let go now, Sandalwood.”

Sandalwood noticed Sunset was there, possibly for the first time, and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, hey. Do I know you?”

Sunset shook her head.

As they went on their way, Sunset explained to Timber in brief about the magical oversharing she’d done thanks to Flash, but Timber didn’t seem as second-hand embarrassed as Sunset thought he should be. She tried again: “Everybody in school’s been treating me with kid gloves ever since. They pity me.”

Timber giggled as if tickled by the silliest idea he could think of. “Pity you? What are you talking about? You basically own the place!”

She winced at his wording but didn’t make a thing of it. Come to think of it, Sunset didn’t even know how much Twilight had told Timber about her past at this school, but if he didn’t know the details, she thought it might be easier to let sleeping dogs lie.

Grumbling at the coffee-machine, Vice Principal Luna muttered in a strangely archaic, nightmarish voice, "Who would dare use the last creamer?" before offering Timber a warm cocoa in a paper cup. She'd even sprung for marshmallows. "Do let us know if you need to talk, Miss Shimmer."

"I will," Timber replied. "You know me, Sunset "Talks About her Feelings" Shimmer!"

Sunset huffed as they traveled on.

The morning announcements likewise continued overhead, with Principal Celestia’s voice carrying over the sound of students shoving away coats and other wintery gear into their lockers. “I’m pleased to announce Taco Tuesday now has more vegan and vegetarian options….”

“See? This is what I’m talking about,” Sunset said, glaring at the speaker as if it were exhibit A. “She’s doing that for me because she feels sorry for me and knows I don’t eat meat. I’m pretty much the only student who doesn’t⁠.” Which, okay, wasn’t entirely true. Fluttershy and Bulk Biceps were vegetarian, too, and that was just the two she knew about. But still the timing made it stupidly obvious: “It’s a pity vegetarian option.”

Timber’s eyes widened. “Well, I would assume all vegetarian options are offered out of pity. If you can’t eat bacon, what gets you out of bed in the morning?”

Sunset bit back her sass. She didn’t feel like playing herself on top of everything.

The announcements went on. “And finally, I would like to take a moment to acknowledge a very important subject: student health and well-being. Over the past few semesters, Vice Principal Luna and I have watched you all with pride and admiration as you’ve come together in the face of real danger and school pressures alike.”

They walked toward the girls’ lockers, which were grouped together on the third floor (a favour they’d called in after the Friendship Games). Sunset couldn’t tell for sure if Twilight had told the girls about their situation yet because all of them were just as interested as she was in hearing the Principal’s announcement. They barely even acknowledged the two joining them in the hall.

“Due to all this, as well as more recent events,” Celestia continued, (making Sunset sigh through her nose), “I’ve moved forward with the decision to hire a new student guidance counsellor at Canterlot High.”

Twilight gaped as if seeing a second sun in the sky. “New guidance counsellor? Why do we need a new guidance counsellor? Principal Celestia is a great guidance counsellor!”

“Stop saying 'guidance counsellor',” Rainbow Dash told her, grabbing some gym clothes from her messy locker. “And chillax, would ya?”

“I might, if that were a word.”

Fluttershy cut in with a gentle hand on Twilight’s shoulder. “I think this might be a good thing. Everyone needs someone to listen.”

While Sunset’s friends had been talking, the Principal’s announcements contuned, so Sunset only caught the tail end after Applejack tapped a finger over her lips.

“...which is why I’d like you all to give a Wondercolt welcome to Solstice Shiver.”

A deeper voice came on the announcements. Baritone, even classically operatic. “Thank you, Principal Celestia. That’s very kind,” he said, a calm smile hidden in his voice. “Students of Canterlot High. I’d like to start by saying I know this is an exceptional school for more than its impressive grade point average.”

Sunset traded looks with Twilight.

“Your Principal has trusted me with the knowledge of what’s gone on here, and I have to admit I’m in awe of you. For an entire student body to be so brave in the face of otherworldly magic…” he marveled, “we could all hope to learn from you.”

The girls smiled (and shook their heads) as Rainbow Dash laughed. “Ha! I like this guy! Tells it like it is!”

“But most importantly, I’d like you to know you’re not alone in anything, but especially not in this. I’ve dealt with magic like this since I was your age, in fact, and it can be beaten. The trauma and heartache magic causes is difficult, and it’s important to acknowledge that difficulty in order to overcome it. Let’s have hope. So please,” Solstice said. “Come by my office by the cafeteria anytime if you’d like to talk. It takes courage to share which is why I’m always here to listen.”

5. The New Sunset

Sunset Shimmer wondered if the universe enjoyed making things harder for her. Because if it didn’t, its cosmic sense of timing was hideously unfunny. If it did, why her specifically?

…Okay, fine, the universe has a lot of legitimate reasons to punish me, she thought. But I thought we’d be square after the whole time-loop thing. This is starting to classify as cruel and unusual.

Applejack frowned, first to Rarity who thumbed the geode around her neck then to the rest of their friends at large. “Did that last bit seem a mite... anti-magic to y’all?”

“Oh yes, I’m all for mental health advocacy,” Rarity began, her eyes flickering towards Twilight, if only briefly, “and I think it’s absolutely fabulous to have new supports in place, but isn’t it a tad gauche to introduce yourself to a magical high school by condemning all magic?”

“No way, you’ve got it all wrong.” Rainbow Dash grabbed a letterman’s jacket from her locker with her last name stitched into the lapel on one side and a large gold W emblazoned on the other; one of the perks of being the senior-year captain of the soccer and buckball teams. Putting it on in the showiest manner possible, Dash walloped the air as though uppercutting some unseen foe. “We want CHS in fighting spirit! It’s rad to have somebody in our corner who totally gets that. It’s like having a coach for your brain!”

A delighted smile climbed on Fluttershy’s face as she nodded, hugging the Advanced Biology textbook like a fluffy bunny she picked up from her locker. Well, that, and the actual fluffy bunny. “I think Rainbow Dash is right: it sounds like this could really help our friends. Magic can cause some very, um, stressful situations.”

As soon as she said that, all their friends had to make various noises of agreement, now including Timber. The Great and Powerful Trixie breezed by muttering something along the lines of, ‘Oh, tell me about it…’

Encouraged to have so many people agreeing with her, Fluttershy went on, “Besides, there’s no need to be defensive, girls. We shouldn’t assume everything is an attack on us.”

Sunset put a pause on internally cursing the very universe itself. Mostly, it was to start cursing herself (not literally, although she knew some doozies from when Princess Celestia explicitly told her not to touch The Forbidden Tome of Nastiness and Untold Evils Vol. DCLXVI) for being self-centered. A fierce heat erupted in her cheeks. Dammit, Fluttershy. How are you so mature?

Sunset appreciated Fluttershy’s ability to calm her down and make her see some semblance of sense, or at least some reasonable recourse. It was thanks to Fluttershy, after all, that Sunset just barely escaped Anger Management after the junior Fall Formal, as she taught her some breathing exercises to have a “cool down.” It helped chill her out a bit (even if Sunset’s preferred outlet for anger still involved her old sledgehammer and the trash bins in the alleyway behind her apartment)

A distraction came in the form of Pinkie Pie, as per usual, but this time it was because Sunset only just now noticed that Pinkie had been staring at her and Timber since they’d walked up. It was as if they were pieces in a cupcake-themed puzzle. Moments later, she lit up and correctly waved to Sunset. “Hiya Sunset!” and then Timber, “Hiya, Timber! Glad you’re back safe! Did you bring Flash a souvenir?”

Rather than flooding who they thought was Timber with questions about where he’d teleported to, the other girls apart from Twilight didn’t know how to respond to that interaction. Fluttershy blinked. “Uh?”

Timber let out a little impressed hum. “Now that’s a cool party trick. How’d you know?”

Miffed, Pinkie Pie produced an expression dangerously close to a pout. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Isn’t what obvious, Pinkie?” Rainbow Dash asked, frowning to her and the other girls, whose eyes ping-ponged between Pinkie, Timber, and Sunset.

Any hint of concern or confusion dropped from Pinkie Pie’s expression when a bright giggle lit up the morning drudgery of the hall as easily as when Vice Principal Luna put in the coffee maker. “Oh, that’s an easy one, Dashie! It’s so super weird to see Timber so grumpy and especially so super weird for Sunset not to be a grumbly grumpy pants this early in the morning.”

Sunset didn’t know how to take that.

Pinkie jacked a thumb towards them. “Either Sunset stole Timber’s morning coffee, or Timber and Sunset pulled the ol’ Switcheroo by accident because they shared their magic!”

Applejack let out a hoot of a guffaw, slapping her knee in a bumpkin-esque fashion. Sunset respected Applejack enough to know she wasn’t the stereotype Sunset used to think of when she thought of earth pony farmers (which in hindsight: yikes), but she found it endearing that even still, AJ’s laugh was as country as one of her countryisms. She even wiped a tear away. “Ehehe, whoo dang. Sorry, Pinkie, it’s just, how’d we get to the point in our lives where I got no reason not to believe every word you’re saying?”

Fluttershy hummed, smiling in on the joke. “Six or seven demons ago, I’d say.”

“It’s true, though,” Flash finally spoke up, shutting his locker directly adjacent to the block of the girls’ lockers. He buried his hands into the plush depths of his hoodie pockets as he came up next to a nodding Twilight. “Something went weird last night after Timber teleported back from Northway.”

“Northway?!” the girls chorused in an impressive unison. Even more impressively, they’d unintentionally timed it right before the bell for first period.

Rarity held her forehead. “Goodness. It appears we’ve got quite a lot to discuss come lunchtime.”

Among the many new experiences she’d had this week, Sunset was maybe the most baffled that she was now genuinely weirded out by loitering. Normally, she’d laugh in the face of anyone who took that kind of pointless red tape seriously (except her girlfriend; Sunset decided that was mostly just eyerollingly cute), but in Sunset’s defence, she wasn’t entirely herself at present, and that was sort of the issue.

Timber attended Home Ec and Gym in her place (not a tragedy on the latter, she thought), but that left Sunset as Timber, a guy who didn’t go to this school. Dodging the hall monitor was easy enough: she still knew Derpy’s route by heart from back when she skipped class to sneak around and get up to no good properly.

Still, the band room would be in use until lunch, so the best she could do was go to the cafeteria and sketch out some magicmatical formulas. Reaching into her bag, Sunset pulled out the journal to Princess Twilight on instinct. She put it back and took out her own art book instead.

After a while of sitting at their regular table and scribbling away, she twirled a pen between her fingers like a drumstick—a trick she’d learned from Pinkie (only breaking two pens in frustration along the way)—and took a look at the spells she’d written.

Mostly Equestrian, all of them in stunningly perfect form down to the decimal. None of them applied on this side of the mirror that way, but she figured the Master Mage’s level theory tended to have some parallel. Plus, admittedly, it felt good.

It felt good to be such a natural.

Sunset tried not to lean on her old vices too much, generally; obviously, the last thing she ever wanted was to lay even a single tread down the same dark path that led her to the demonic transformation at the junior year Fall Formal. But this was to help her friends, so she thought she was at least a little justified in taking some pride in her natural-born aptitude for Equestrian magic.

If I figure this magic-sharing thing out, we’re all better off for it. She could feel a smirk sliding onto her face and let it stay there, even as she sighed. Too bad all this theory’s not as useful over here. Sweet Celestia, how many times could I have saved us trouble if it just worked the way I’m good at?

She shook her head, biting her lip. But it doesn’t work that way. No use in wishing it did. Besides, Equestrian magic is Princess Twilight’s game now. She won, got the crown, saved the town, earned the throne, and to top it off, she deserves all of it.

Her stomach snagged on that thought, a twisting feeling tugging at her. Okay. Enough with the pity party, Sunset, she thought to herself. It’s done. You’re not even Princess Celestia’s apprentice anymore, so there was never any contest to lose. When you and the girls go to the coronation, you’re going to swallow your stupid ego already, even if you choke on it, and just… be a good friend.

Twilight and the girls seemed to think she could be. And after all she’d done to be their friend, Sunset wanted to agree, but she also didn’t feel quite so pure anymore. Friendship never came natural to her, but she thought she’d mastered it by now. She thought she was good at heart. So why did she still mess up like this?

I’m not a bad friend. Maybe I’ve just been away from Equestria too long, she tried to reason, tapping the page with her ballpoint pen. It wasn’t all a horrible descent into power-lust, was it?

Even as soon as she thought that, it felt like an excuse to her. Sunset would renounce all magic before going back to being the snide little pupil who took the opportunities she was given for granted. But then... she thought. She turned to an older page in her art book, one of the best pieces she’d done for art class: an Equestrian sunrise from her dorm’s balcony on Canterlot Castle, from memory. The silhouetted figure of Princess Celestia stood on the balcony ahead.

She ran her hand over the page, coursing her fingertips over the dried paint. She was a totally different person from who she used to be—right now literally.

Sunset looked over her shoulder to check for anyone who might see then set up the book standing in front of her and laid her chin on her folded arms.

A smile rose. “Nice sunrise today, Princess. You’ve outdone yourself.”

The silhouette didn’t turn back toward her.

Either way, she didn’t let herself indulge much longer. She had friends here and now to help out. Even apart from fixing the body swap, which was her main concern, she needed to have a handle on the magic-sharing before it caused anybody else any more problems. At this rate, with her luck, Pinkie would explode some of Rarity’s diamond-sharp shields in the middle of Princess Twilight’s coronation. Now that would be something to talk about in therapy.

The girls along with the two boys arrived at the lunch table not long after lunch began and that meant they had to pull up two extra chairs. A nine person group took up so much space. Sunset had managed to get something potentially helpful down on paper before they arrived, so when everybody sat down she held up her calculations and tapped the page. “I’ve got some ideas on how to undo whatever happened to me and Timber, so if we can get through your questions fast we might be able to switch us back before the end of lunch.”

Twilight mussed up her mouth from her seat next to her girlfriend. “Sunset? Even I have a lot of questions, and I was there for all of this.”

The others nodded.

Sunset sighed. “Okay, yeah, that’s fair. Everybody gets one question right now, so you’re not in the dark, and we can talk all we want later after we fix things. Deal or no deal?”

“Deal!” Twilight embodied the total sum of all the chuckling chatter in the cafeteria in one incandescent smile but then reached for a notebook and pen to start scribbling as if studying for final exams. “Start on someone else please.”

Sunset smirked. The waggling pen reminded her of the various times spent admiring Twilight in chemistry class. Or algebra. Or biology. She submerged the urge to lean over and kiss her cheek. It helped to remind herself that if she powered through and put things back to normal, she could do a whole lot more than kiss her girlfriend again later on. Ignoring the fact that she was technically also Twilight’s ex at the moment. “Alright, down the line, then. Applejack?”

“You’re Sunset, right?”

“Yes,” Sunset confirmed. “Pinkie, you’re next.”

Applejack balked. “Wait, that wasn’t my question.”

“One question,” Sunset told her. “We’ve only got an hour for lunch. Magic takes time. Go ahead, Pinkie.”

“Consarn it,” Applejack muttered along with a string of countrified curse words increasingly too quiet and slurred together in her accent to make out. Seeing this, Twilight wrote faster, as if even more worried about wasting her question.

Pinkie Pie raised her hand even though she’d already been called upon. “Ooo! Ooo! Ooo! How was Northway? And you still didn’t answer my question about Flash’s souvenir, so technically, that’s still just one question.”

“...I’ll allow it,” Sunset said, to which Applejack threw down her hat on the table like a grumpy prospector.

“Bull pie!”

Timber perked up. “Oh, well, it’s got a beautiful countryside, friendly people, and I tried something called kjøttboller: very delicious, I’d totally recommend. Also I was horrified that I might never see my sister again and something something existential dread—but the kjøttboller!” He planted his hands on the table to make his point, then looked over to Flash. “But, no gift. Sorry, hot stuff. Maybe next time?”

“There... doesn’t need to be a next time,” Flash assured, smiling with a bit of fear in his eyes. It was nice to see him smile, at least, although admittedly weird to see Flash’s hand pat what would normally be her own.

Turning away from that, Sunset pointed at Fluttershy. “Do you have any questions, Flutters?”

“Oh, um, I guess I’d like to know how Timber could teleport that far, or maybe even how to switch you and Timber back, but I can wait if we’re really in a rush.”

Sunset was about to elaborate before Rainbow Dash grinned. “My turn! Does this hurt you or Timber?” She punched Timber in the shoulder like it was her job.

“Ow!” Timber said.

Rainbow folded her hands neatly on the table in front of her as Timber rubbed his shoulder. “No further questions.”

Sunset sighed, almost pleadingly. “Rarity?”

Rarity laid her hand back on the topmost knee of her crossed legs. “Thank you, dear. Should we still refer to you as she and Timber, he/him, or would you say it’s the other way around?”

Sunset stared. “Oh. Uh, same as usual, I guess. I’m still me.” It made her swelteringly uncomfortable to have someone think she might be a gender she didn’t identify as just based on her body alone, but Sunset pushed that aside since it was considerate for Rarity to ask. Twilight seemed to cross one off her list. “Next question.”

Instead of skipping over Timber like she thought would be logical, Timber waved at her across the table. “Hi, Timber in Sunset here. Long time listener, first time asker. My question is, do you not even try in gym class? Because I ran a lap and everyone was shocked.”

Dash leaned over. “Oh, I know that one! She doesn’t.”

“I’m strategic. I don’t run, I hit things.” That’s what she told them, at least. Sunset didn’t like to sweat in front of other people, plus there were usually ways to spend the whole class ‘helping’ Coach Spitfire get supplies for the other students that didn’t involve as much work. Really, Sunset would argue it was a mental workout, which in school was clearly more valuable.

…There may have been a reason to start her punching bag-based workout regime up again when she got her body back, and that reason maybe was to picture the bag as Timber’s face. Or, at the moment, her own face.

Whatever, she thought, then flicked her eyes toward the next in line. “Flash, what do you want to know?”

Flash shoved his free hand back into his pocket. A totally ordinary move coming from him, but she knew it meant he was at least a little uncomfortable. “Are you two going to be alright?”

Sunset softened. “We’re not in danger or anything, so yeah. As soon as the girls and I pony up from showing the truest parts of ourselves, I think that should be enough for the magic to put us back where we belong.”

Everyone turned towards Twilight, who took a moment to notice the eyes on her before realizing it was pencils down. Scanning what she’d written, she flipped through a page. Then another. Then five more.

Sunset raised an eyebrow. “Wow, that’s just impressive.”

Twilight continued to scan and flip until she got to the last page and then clapped her notebook shut. “The most pressing question notwithstanding,” she said, nodding to Flash, “I think the next biggest priority is what exactly you and Timber were thinking and feeling when you switched bodies. What’s the common denominator that let you share magic?”

Timber looked to Sunset as if she would have the answer, but she was admittedly hoping he would fess up first. She knew for a fact what she was thinking. How she wished Twilight’s ex hadn’t ruined their date night, but she realized he hadn’t answered her last night exactly; he’d talked about Northway, barely mentioning anything to do with Sunset.

He was too good at disguising his expression—in her body no less.

“...I don’t think it matters what we were thinking,” Sunset lied, but she didn’t break eye contact with Timber, trying to read her own face. She dropped it along with her hands on the table. “It could be a paradox.”

Twilight’s eyebrows raised, eyes growing owlish as she leaned in. “Paradox?”

“Like I keep saying, magic is usually based on emotion,” she said, parsing through the equations she’d written in her artbook, “but that’s how it works in Equestria. Over here, I don’t know, I’m just going to admit I wouldn’t call myself an expert—maybe it just doesn’t make sense. Timber and Flash shouldn’t have powers without geodes, but they do now.”

Flash’s eyebrows collapsed over his ocean eyes like a drawbridge. “Uh… sorry?”

“No, that’s not—” Sunset shook her head. “Don’t apologize. I mean usually Equestrian magic latches onto an object in this world if people besides us are going to be able to use it, but you two are different for some reason—and that’s not a bad thing. But until we understand it, it’s a paradox. It doesn’t make sense based on our current understanding.”

“Yup,” Timber chuckled, rubbing his neck, “sounds like a paradox to me. It’s okay. I’m used to being the weirdo that doesn’t make sense to other people.”

Applejack planted her freckled cheek on her hand like seeds. “You think Flash and Timber gettin’ powers has something to do with the big rip in the sky? I would’ve thought that would’ve healed up by now…”

“That’s been my assumption as well.” Twilight nodded. “We really don’t know for certain what’s on the other side of that tear, but if a crack in the portal could release more magic into the world, a crack in the atmosphere itself that large…”

“...creates paradoxes,” Flash finished quietly. To his credit, he managed a smile for the girls and didn’t let the mood drop down. “If Timber and I need to give up our powers because it’s causing too much trouble, it’s o—”

“No! I didn’t say that,” Sunset told him, feeling a little bad now that she’d definitely thought about it earlier. “And, look, maybe you and Timber can train or something. Even with geodes, our powers aren’t always easy to control. That doesn’t make them bad, it just means… we learn how to use them, I guess.”

It felt a little hollow to say that while thinking about how much better off all of her friends might be without this magic, but Sunset did her best not to entertain thoughts like that anymore. Mostly. Kind of. In a way.

Or at the very least, she didn’t let them make her friends feel bad about themselves, too, and that included Flash. If he wanted powers, Sunset thought she shouldn’t make him feel ashamed for that. She refused to, anyway.

Timber made eye contact with her, and for a moment she could’ve sworn she saw something recognizable—guilt—but she didn’t get a chance to confirm that she’d seen anything at all.

A magic glow formed around Timber, and it was only moments later when Sunset realized the same glow formed around her. She lit up. “Wait, everybody shut up! I think it’s working! I think—”

Then she noticed Flash’s hand resting on Timber’s, and her eyes widened as if someone had thrown a grenade on their cafeteria table.

“No!” Her shoulders tensed up, and she flinched as the magic exploded out across their lunch table from her and Timber like a tsunami’s powerful tide.

The next thing she knew, Sunset was sitting somewhere new. Right next to where she was a moment ago, in fact. She could see her own body still across the table, looking dazed and fighting with a headache. Startled, Sunset checked her hands only to find slender fingers and light, lavender skin.

Reaching up to her face, the thick-rimmed glasses confirmed her sinking feeling: she was Twilight Sparkle. Her mind leapt to the next most pressing concern, shoving past the disorientation and fighting to keep her eyes open to see the others.

All of her friends looked affected. Rubbing eyes, groaning, or in Flash’s case, hyperventilating as he patted down his arms, face, and chest. Or, Flash’s body. Sunset massaged the forehead beneath her bangs as she realized she didn’t know who that was.

Sunset swore. “Tartarus. Girls?”

Timber shrieked beside her, as high-pitched as his voice would go.

The others weren’t far behind. Whoever was currently Applejack gasped, and Pinkie Pie looked around in a total daze. The person in Fluttershy’s body jumped back from the table. “Whoa! Whoa, whoa whoa whoa! What?”

The person in Sunset’s body held their hands over their mouth. “I didn’t mean to! Was that because of me? I’m sorry!”

The rest of the cafeteria noticed them freaking out, and Sunset could tell the other students didn’t understand what was happening but didn’t like it one bit. Where a few years ago, an outburst from their classmates like this might’ve been a funny topic of conversation. Like, what were those weirdos at lunch doing, anyway?

But the hushed conversation and tense air around the cafeteria spoke volumes. We’re freaking them out, she realized. If the magic experts are scared about something, how’s the rest of the student body supposed to react?

Whoever was currently occupying Rainbow Dash stood up. “Everybody calm down, easy! The first thing to do is figure out who’s who, okay? I’m Timber,” he said, making Rainbow Dash sound like a camp counsellor speaking to junior campers on how to tie a proper knot.

Sunset had never seen Fluttershy look like she wanted to start a fistfight, but the way she stomped towards him made Sunset feel threatened. “Dude! You took my body?! Not cool!”

“So, okay, that’s Rainbow Dash,” Timber confirmed, which itself seemed to diffuse some of Dash’s anger. Timber kept his voice calm (a new sound from Dash’s voice). “Where’s Fluttershy?”

“Here…” A voice came from below the table. Rarity had never looked so timid, hiding behind her hair and hugging her knees, but that was par for the course for Fluttershy. It was beyond jarring for Sunset to see the mannerisms switched like that.

“Goodness, darling,” the person in Timber said, outing themselves as Rarity.

“I’m Applejack,” AJ came out and said from Pinkie’s body, eyeing the stetson-wearing blonde beside her suspiciously. “So who does that make you?”

She beamed. “Pinkie Pie!”

Sunset raised her hand, which she thought must’ve been a familiar motion for Twilight’s body. “Sunset Shimmer.” She eyed the two remaining friends unaccounted for: her own body and Flash Sentry’s. She pointed at Flash, who struggled to get the hyperventilating under control. “Twilight?”

She nodded.

And pointed to her own body. “And Flash?”

He nodded, looking like he’d just destroyed a dance, stole a crown, and learned the value of friendship the hard way all in one go. “I-I didn’t mean to amplify anything, I swear!”

Timber winced. “It’s not your fault. Paradox powers, right?” He looked toward Sunset as if asking for help.

Grimacing, she nodded. “It’s okay, Flash. I can fix this—the girls and I can fix this. Don’t beat yourself up, okay?”

“Well, if he’s you now, he’d really only be playing the part, dear,” someone muttered, which Sunset remembered was Rarity as Timber. This was getting genuinely difficult for her to keep track of, especially considering her own discombobulation and disorientation.

Sunset grunted, rubbing the space between her eyes under the glasses she now needed. “Okay, this has officially gotten old. Rainbooms? Time to Pony up.”

Setting up their instruments took a lot less time with Flash helping out. He made Sunset look like quite the expert, so all around this was a fine development. Sometimes she forgot just how much he knew about instruments and music—she knew, obviously; he’d taught her how to play in the first place. But she realized Flash usually asked how everyone else was doing first before talking about the stuff he loved, so it was easy to forget he and his band Flash Drive were just as, if not more, popular than the Rainbooms.

He ran the cord from Rainbow Dash’s guitar across the room to the amp and knew exactly what settings to adjust on the dials before giving her a thumbs up. It was beyond odd to see everyone in different positions than normal, which made Twilight frown. “If we’re not in our bodies, do you think we can use our magic?”

Dash exchanged looks with Applejack and Pinkie Pie (although it took a second for Sunset’s brain to work out exactly who was who). In Fluttershy’s soft, timid tones, Rainbow asked, “Wait, yeah, doesn’t our magic come from the heart? ‘Cause my heart’s over there right now.”

Timber waved, sitting on an amp on the side of the room.

“...Oh. Crap.” Sunset, in the middle of tuning the E string of her guitar, laid a hand over the strings to mute the sound to give her a second to think. “I don’t see why our powers would be tied to our bodies. But we should be wearing the right geodes.” She smirked. “That would probably help.”

In the exchange, Sunset took the purple geode off her neck and held it out to Twilight before grabbing her own orange geode from Flash while the rest of the girls got theirs. Admittedly? Even though Sunset used to brag about her top notch intellect, having everyone wear the correct coloured geode was the first time she could keep them all straight.

Sunset tried not to compare herself to a magic kindergartener discovering colour-coding. Tried. (But then again, Magic Kindergarten had been one of the best times of Sunset’s life; naps, oatmeal cookies, picking on nerds, and being the teacher’s favourite for reading spells at a 4th grade level while the others struggled to understand the concept of basic levitation. Who wouldn’t love that?)

Twilight watched the exchanging of geodes with a furrowed brow. She made Flash look very deep in thought, which was especially dramatic given his thick eyebrows. “Hang on. What exactly did we swap, anyway? Minds? Consciousnesses? The archaic concept of a spirit?”

Sunset shrugged and put the guitar strap over her head. “I dunno. I guess the same sort of thing that happens when I go from Equestria to the human world? Does it matter? We’re going to fix it right now, anyway.”

“Yes it matters! Do you know how startlingly little we know about the human consciousness, Sunset? Basically nothing! Our best experimental design to date is to compare it to a computer and study through metaphor!”

Timber stopped kicking his legs childishly off the amp. “Is that true? Whoa. Nifty. The anatomy of the brain and its processes isn’t really my go-to for bedtime reading, but look at that, you learn something new everyday! Or in this case, you learn that you know nothing!”

Pinkie Pie hit the drums in a rim-shot.

Timber Spruce lit up like he’d been given a very special gift just then. “Oh, you and me have some talking to do.”

Sunset laid a hand on Twilight’s shoulder, willfully ignoring the fact that it was technically her ex-boyfriend's and instead focused on the scared look in the eyes she recognized as her girlfriend. “Hey. I promise, we can debate the existence of a soul and what this all means later, okay? After we put everyone back?” She wished she could promise they’d get to do what they’d both really, really, really wanted to do last night, but it was nigh impossible to communicate that without everyone hearing or figuring out what she was implying. Especially with Rainbow Dash’s dirty mind.

All the same, Twilight nodded. It was cold comfort for Sunset to promise herself they’d get to actually talk later, in private.

Applejack noodled on the bass a bit. “So what do we play? Doesn’t have to be some fancy ‘musical counter spell’, does it?” She smirked toward Sunset, winking.

Sunset chuckled. “Yeah, no. Whatever you girls want. From the metaphorical heart.”

“Well, in that case, I’ve always liked Right There in Front of Me.” Twilight smiled, trying to twirl her hair around her finger before realizing Flash’s hair was too short for that. She blushed, grabbing onto the microphone with two hands. “It, um, it was really special to me that you girls let me sing it with you after the Friendship Games, even though I’m not the best singer without magical accompaniment…”

Her eyes reached for Sunset’s, and Sunset knew exactly why. That was their song. Both quite literally, in that they sung the vocal leads in duet, and because when they’d started dating, it became their song.

When the two of them had their first slow dance at the Fall Formal, Sunset could see how nervous Twilight was that she might mess up. And she did. She stumbled off beat, fumbled a dance move or two, and her nerves bungled the rhythm. So Sunset told her not to worry about the music in the gym, as nice as Flash’s acoustic guitar was. She started to sing the lyrics to Right There in Front of Me below her breath.

And after a verse, Twilight joined in.

Their first kiss cut the second chorus short.

“Yeah. That sounds perfect,” Sunset breathed, now willfully ignoring the giggles from her friends who she supposed only wanted to support them anyway.

Pinkie Pie counted them in. It was an easy enough song for the girls to get into, the instrumentals on point. Even if it stung to play guitar with Twilight’s fingers that hadn’t been properly calloused yet, Sunset pushed through and it seemed like the other girls would too.

That is, until the singing started.

Sunset herself mis-started. She should’ve expected she had to adjust her singing to Twilight’s vocal range, but it wasn’t a difficult adjustment (all things considered, their voices were more alike than she thought).

It was Twilight who really had a hard time with it. Flash Sentry was, by all bars and measures, a pitch-perfect singer, but his voice was also much lower than Twilight Sparkle’s. Twilight could still hit the right notes, but it gave the song a whole new sound. A new vibe.

By the time they got to the chorus, it was impossible to ignore the fact that Twilight and Flash’s voices were singing what the Rainbooms now considered their only real love song.

Sunset spared a look towards Flash. He looked like he’d seen the spirits Twilight was so interested in talking about, and he held his arms in such a way that he covered up his stomach. Sunset felt an intense pang of worry that he’d throw up.

Sunset doubted anyone would be able to Pony up after that, but then, the universe loved to prove her wrong. She would later wonder if reverse psychology worked on unseen cosmic forces.

A warm, satisfying magic shimmered around them, like the steam from a hot tub. Before she knew it, all of her friends had adorable pony ears and tails again, prompting their two-man audience to cheer them on.

By the time Rainbow Dash played the final chord, the magic was in full effect, and so, they waited.

Everyone looked around. Eager quiet fell over the band room.

Flash gave them a crisp thumbs up. “Well, uh… good try?”

6. We Give You the Whole Seat but You'll Only Need the Edge

Sunset Shimmer could confirm the universe had it out for her now. In some genie’s wish sort of twisted logic, she’d ended up inside her girlfriend’s body and not at all in the fun way. In some respects, it was better than being stuck as Timber Spruce. But in another more real way, it was worse because now that she and the girls had already tried using their magic to fix it, she’d lost her lead on what to do and made things difficult for all of her friends. All in one go, to boot!

A very productive Thursday for Sunset indeed.

None of them looked like they knew how to react. Instruments still in hand, maybe waiting to see if there’d be some delayed effects, but Sunset could feel the unsettling certainty settling over the room. We’re stuck like this.

“Should we… try to activate Flash’s power again?” Twilight asked. Her voice picked up over the microphone, and it lent her words too much weight. Cringing, she leaned away from it to say, “He was definitely involved in the switch. Maybe we need him to put everybody back.”

“That’s a thought.” Applejack considered the idea, plucking her bass as if she wished it would turn into her mother’s old acoustic guitar that she only ever broke out for special occasions. Sunset had only seen the thing once, on the anniversary. It was the sweetest song she’d ever heard Applejack play. “But how do we know he ain’t gonna randomize us up all over again?”

Pinkie Pie poked her head up over her Rainbooms’ official drum set. “I wouldn’t mind a turn as Rarity.”

Rarity raised an eyebrow. “Whatever for, dear?”

Pinkie leaned into her own hand, smushing the freckles of Applejack’s cheek. “I just think you’re neat.”

A flowery pink overcame Rarity’s cheeks. “Yes, well, I do hope I get the chance to be Rarity again myself, so I’m willing to take the risk. Flash, love, do... whatever the thing is that you do!” In proclaiming that across the band room, it struck Sunset as noticeably trippy to hear Timber’s voice attempt and even pull off that accent.

Applejack made Pinkie Pie sound like a debutant southern belle, but Pinkie was Pinkie, so weird didn’t sound so weird coming from her. But Timber wasn’t allowed to have abs and have the capability of doing a decent Mid-Atlantic accent. He had to pick one.

Flash also didn’t look like he knew what to do with this. He sank into his shoulders in a prolonged shrug. “I don’t know how it works if I’m honest, but I can always try if you want me to.”

He stuck his hand in Timber’s and scrunched up his face as though lifting a barbell over his head.

“Are you okay?” Timber asked, genuinely sounding alarmed.

Flash opened his eyes. “Uh, yeah. Is it working yet? Did I save the day?”

“Not yet, but you look like you’re in pain.”

Flash deflated. “Oh. That’s my concentration face? It’s… not heroic, huh?”

Sunset grimaced. “Well, we’re just going to have to figure it out, then. It’s our best bet.”

She did her best to coach him through it, but Flash didn’t seem to understand what made him Flash. Or at least, not what was at his core that gave him the power to amplify. The best Sunset could do was let him take a spin on her guitar, and while he played marvellously, it had no real effect in terms of who occupied who.

The end of lunch came fast, throwing all of them into each other’s lives. Before leaving, Applejack raised a good point that was unfortunately too logical to work out in their favour. “Hang on a tick. Why don’t we just tell everybody about the swap? It’s not like our teachers and classmates don’t know what magic is. We’re us. At this point, they probably won’t even bat an eye.”

Twilight twiddled with Flash’s hoodie drawstrings in the place of twirling her hair around her finger. “Also, I think it’s an academic offence to take a test or do an assignment as someone else.”

“You’re not wrong that it’s probably cheating, but that can’t possibly be in the rule book,” Timber commented, eyebrow raised.

“Exactly! We’d be breaking a rule before Principal Celestia even had the chance to make it!” She held her cheeks, and between that and the pigeon toed stance it was starting to get really easy to tell that that was Twilight. “That’s a whole new level of rule-breaking! Rule break-making!”

Rainbow Dash grinned a terrible grin entirely too sinister for Fluttershy’s face. Sunset pitied the woodland creatures that ever fell victim to that smile. “I call that making history!”

Sunset was about to agree with Applejack when a thought struck her. “We could tell everyone about all this, but how much you want to bet that would land us all in the new counsellor’s office? Magical mishap and nine panicking teens? From the sounds of it, that’s right up his alley.”

“Right now, that doesn’t sound like a bad thing,” Flash said, presumably to her although his wide eyes appeared superglued to Twilight. Granted, Sunset suspected all of them had every right to be freaked out, but Flash in particular wouldn’t stop staring at his body. He looked like he needed the nurse’s office more than a guidance counsellor’s.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to test our luck. Maybe we shouldn’t mess with this new ‘counsellor’—” Sunset emphasized, using air quotes. A counsellor was the last thing she needed right now. “—until we know how deep his anti-magic stance really goes or who he even is. Let me do some recon on him first just to be safe.”

Fluttershy held a hand over her mouth. “Oh gosh. You don’t think he’s really a threat, do you?”

Applejack leaned against the back wall. “Well, one thing’s for sure: I don’t think one of us would be shocked stiff to find out we have a new evil-magic-sportin’ baddie on our hands. That whole anti-magic spiel could be a cover, iffin’ you ask me. Heck, we still don’t know for true who attacked us in the park a few weeks back⁠—that King Sombra guy?⁠—could easily be this new fella showing up in our lives.”

Pinkie gasped as she tip-tapped out a little rhythm on the drums. “And he would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for us meddling teens!”

“‘Xactly,” Applejack said, firing a finger-gun. “I wouldn’t put it past our luck for the next person we end up saving from some stolen Equestrian magic to wind up being the new guy we don’t know nothing about. Introducing yourself to us is gettin’ to be a tell.”

The others, while uncomfortable, murmured in some semblance of agreement, Twilight saying, “Cynical, but not wrong…”

Even Dash kicked the carpet, scuffing her sneaker.

Rarity frowned, placing a hand beneath her chin as she thought. “Yes, you do make a point. But assuming everyone new to us is guilty until proven innocent? I can’t say I enjoy the idea. I should hope we’re better friendship experts than that. Really, I’d rather we not resort to witch hunts⁠—or Equestrian magic/demon hunts, as the case may be.”

Fluttershy nodded, making Rarity look quite peeved. “I really don’t think developing trust issues is going to help anyone, but a new counsellor is. I’m starting to think some of us might benefit from an appointment.”

Eyes flaring, Sunset waved her hands. “Whoa, h-hey, let’s not get too hasty here. I’m not saying he’s evil, but AJ’s right. I didn’t think a girl like Wallflower Blush was capable of erasing all of our memories of high school, but she taught me not to underestimate people. Or take them for granted. If this Solstice guy isn’t against us, then I won’t take him for granted. If he is, I’m not letting him make the first move.”

Sunset hoped she looked convincing with Twilight’s hands planted on her hips, if for no other reason than to demonstrate to her girlfriend that she could look this leaderly if she wanted. She seemed to notice, at least. “Everybody just play your parts for now while I check out the new counsellor in the Principal’s office.”

Twilight harboured a guilty look, sending it toward Sunset. “Funny you should mention that really, because, um, you have to go there either way. I have my regular appointment with Principal Celestia—”

“Thursdays at noon,” Sunset groaned, grappling her forehead beneath the bangs. The last time she sunk her fingers into Twilight’s hair she’d been having far more fun. Her girlfriend gave her a guilty smile as they left the band room for the flooded halls. “Guess I’m going to counselling, then.”

Would it be hypocritical to tell Principal Celestia who I really am to get out of this? Then again, Sunset had historically been an effortless liar, so given enough time and/or enough of a time limit, she figured she could probably come up with something convincing to get “Twilight” out of a counselling session.

The halls emptied out. Everyone else found their classes, and only the seniors with a free study period were left to roam the halls. Frankly, Sunset was astonished Twilight sacrificed an excuse to study for these weekly one-on-ones. What did they even talk about? As far as Sunset was concerned, Twilight was already perfect.

But then, Twilight making friends with their Principal? That checked out.

The sun-shaped design in the fogged glass of the door to the Principal’s office stood diametrically opposed to the crescent moon of the Vice Principal’s office. It was no eternally aflame wall sconces shimmering on the pure golden armour of royal guards, or wooden doors leading to the royal chambers and towering to dizzying heights—but what was in this dimension?

Ponies knew how to do overdramatic right in Sunset’s opinion.

Meanwhile, Sunset still didn’t know how to cope with seeing the name of the leader of the free world printed on a tiny office plaque beside the door. Nothing matched the headtrip that she had when she first realized there was a Celestia here, too, but even after a few years of living in the human world, there were some things that were harder to come to terms with than others. Her high school principal was one of them.

At this point, Sunset was stalling and she knew it. She isn’t my Celestia, she reminded herself and felt properly stupid for needing a reminder in the first place. Be a big filly and go… talk about feelings. They don’t even have to be yours!

Sunset sighed and started on her way to grabbing the doorknob as if the false-gold would transform into a steaming cast iron upon her touch. She hesitated before she could, turning away on stiff legs and mentally swore her heart out for pounding on her chest like a drama queen. She was very glad no one was there to see her embark on this facial journey as she mimed wringing her own neck.

From an outside perspective, it may have appeared Sunset had a very intense shouting match with the empty hall on mute.

Sunset took a breath. Wiped her hands on her skirt. And so with all the wherewithal and love for her friends she could muster, she reignited her heroic charge to the principal’s door. This time only stopping because of the delighted laugh she heard on the other side.

Is that… Celestia?

Sunset listened carefully to the occupants of the office to find Principal Celestia breathing a sigh from a long-winded laugh and a deep chuckle stuttering to a stop alongside her. Sunset didn’t know if she’d ever heard any Celestia sound so carefree.

With an ear to the door, Sunset focused: it was a bit muffled but still easy enough to make out roughly what they were saying.

“I have to give them credit, though, they truly are remarkable,” the deeper voice said, adding, “when I was their age, I could barely function. The drama department was my only safe harbour, and even then,” he paused to conspiratorially whisper, “what a drama queen. No, it’s true! I wore eyeliner and called myself the Lord of Shadows for more time than I’d like to admit when I played the lead in Shadow of the Symphony. Critics raved that I redefined melodrama.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. We all go through our phases. When I was a teenager,” Principal Celestia was saying, “I was a complete disaster. Punk music, dark clothes and an attitude to match—I’m entirely convinced every embarrassing photo I’ve ever taken comes from that time period. But that’s how teenagers are. Or how I was, at least. Mostly, it was to rage against the machine and all that, but also, well, you know how other school age kids can be. I wasn’t going to let anyone treat my sister as if she were second rate.”

“How noble,” Solstice told her, resting on the sharpened edge of sardonic and genuine. “If only all goth phases were as well-intentioned as yours.”

“I know! I was a nightmare!”

The sound of paper flipping later, and the 20,000 leagues deep voice that Sunset had heard over the P.A. system sounded impressed. Still calm and lowkey but noticeably lighter for such a naturally somber voice. “You say that, but I’m positively certain I out-disastered you.”

“Oh?” Celestia giggled. “That sounds like a challenge, Sol.”

Sol? Sunset wrinkled her nose. Were they... flirting in there?

Sol’s voice dripped with amusement. “But you can’t possibly out teenage angst the Lord of Shadows.” He used a booming voice to convey just how patently ridiculous he was. And it worked, earning another laugh from Celestia which he shared in kind this time.

Before she could gag, Sunset took it upon herself to put a stop to that. At the very least, something got her through the door.

She entered the room and got a look at the self-titled Lord of Shadows. There, in the plain office light, stood a broad-shouldered shadow of a man with vampiric skin that hadn’t seen enough sun and hair so devoid of light, apart from a few grey streaks, that Sunset thought either must’ve been dyed that way or it was definitely dyed that way. Or, okay, at least Sunset suspected as much. In her more rebellious years (keyword: more), she’d briefly debated dying her own hair just to see the Princess’s reaction when she finally returned home to Equestria but thankfully thought against it (since the good dye had been too expensive for her micro-budget at the time).

Principal Celestia was leaning back in her chair, smirking to him over the tea in her sun-themed mug. He stood over some file folders with a mug of black coffee of his own in hand.

Sunset raised an eyebrow. Did she just interrupt a coffee date? She cleared her throat.

Counsellor Solstice and Principal Celestia both turned their eyes to the door as she did as if embarrassed to be interrupted. But even if that was the case, Principal Celestia recovered well with a smile as light as daybreak. “Oh, there you are, Twilight. I didn’t see you come in! I’m sorry if you were kept waiting at all. Solstice Shiver and I were just going over your case file, and I was hoping to introduce you.”

Sunset frowned. “My case file?” She realized she’d spoken with her own inflections, and it sounded a little too sardonic for Twilight speaking to a figure of authority. Sparing a single look towards Solstice, Sunset attempted to play her part: she twirled her hair around her finger and mixed a hint of nervousness into her voice. “I thought our sessions were just between us.”

Good job, Sunset, she thought. You’re just as good at lying and manipulating as you used to be. Congratulations.

She would’ve felt worse if it didn’t have the intended effect. Principal Celestia’s eyes widened and she softened. “Of course they are. I promise I didn’t provide him with any details you wouldn’t tell your friends.” That pinged on Sunset’s radar. There were things Twilight said in here she didn’t tell their friends? What could Twilight possibly have to say to Celestia that she didn’t already tell Sunset? “However, I wanted to ask your permission to share more. For this next session, I’d like you to try seeing Counsellor Solstice.”

Solstice attempted a smile, and it was a little on the awkward side, but Sunset had seen worse. Back in the day, after the She-Demon incident when she was still just getting to know her new best friends, Sunset needed a little guidance on how to smile genuinely. It... It had been a while.

This smile struck her the same way, albeit a little more practiced than Sunset’s used to be.

He offered his hand across the desk with leisure as if the coffee hadn’t yet kicked in. “It’s a pleasure to meet one of Canterlot High’s best and brightest. I’m Solstice Shiver, your school’s new guidance counsellor and coffee disposal.”

Taking the firm grip, Sunset raised a game eyebrow. “Not ‘the Lord of Shadows?’”

A slight pink broke through the stormcloud grey of his skin. “I tend to prefer Solstice these days.”

“Before you say no, I promise this doesn’t have to mean the end of our appointments together,” the Principal assured. Imagining how Twilight would freak out over losing her support made Sunset almost glad she was here to hear the news in Twilight’s place. “But our new counsellor is far more qualified to help than I am, and if anyone could benefit from his mindfulness expertise, I thought it might be you.”

Sunset bit her lip, hoping to evoke a hesitant Twilight. “Does mindfulness help with magic?”

Solstice nodded without missing a beat. “Very much so. I swear by it for myself. That, and Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. From what your principal has told me, you’ve dealt with quite a lot on your own from the time you transferred here and that’s very admirable. It must’ve been so hard to go from, well, magically enhanced at the Friendship Games to going to school here. I’d even say it’s brave.”

If she was herself, Sunset would have said so too. She’d watched Twilight deal with the aftermath of Midnight Sparkle: the fear, the shame, fighting back the desire to have all that power again—all on top of math class and sleepovers. Learning what a normal teenage life was like.

Sunset had to fight down a smile. The first sleepover they’d ever had with Twilight, a week or so after the Friendship Games, Twilight didn’t have a clue what the protocol was. How this was supposed to go, what her friends must think of her. Wiping Twilight’s tears away, Sunset admitted to her she’d been in the same boat not too long ago and even shared what happened at the Fall Formal and Battle of the Bands to make her feel better. And it worked. Twilight stuck by Sunset the rest of the night and had a great, normal teenage experience.

The idea that maybe Twilight was still struggling the same way she was at Camp Everfree and hadn’t told Sunset or the girls, or that Sunset and her Equestrian magic somehow contributed to it? It was like plunking ice cubes into her stomach.

Solstice Shiver’s calm exterior lent itself well to gentle smiles. Enthusiastic grins, he didn’t seem to have the energy for, but the understanding in his expression made Sunset want to open up to him. Almost.

Solstice clasped his hands behind his back. “If you’d like, we could talk about how to cope with your magic together, the same way you’ve quite admirably been learning to cope with your anxiety. But it’s up to you, Twilight.”

Sunset hugged her arms. So maybe he’s not outright against magic? It was hard for her to really tell. She expected more anger, more theatrics (especially from Mr. Eyeliner) to be evident in his tone, but she really didn’t get that sense from him. It kind of sounds like Rainbow Dash was right. Weird.

She tried her best to keep in character, even going so far as to make sure her toes were pointed inward to make the unsure stance complete. “Well… thank you for offering. I need some time to think about it—um, if that’s okay with you?”

Sunset mentally high-fived herself for peppering in that uncertainty. Yeah, hooray, her conscious said. You’re a fraud and a liar! Whipee!

“Alright then. My door is always open if you change your mind.” After a polite smile, his tired green eyes took to his coffee as he gave it a little blow, rippling the depths of his mug. He looked like he needed it.

Principal Celestia nodded. “And if Mr. Shiver is busy, you can always come to me, I hope you know that.”

“I do,” Sunset lied, like a lying liar. “Thank you, Principal Celestia.”

It didn’t take too many more platitudes to get out of seeing Principal Celestia in Twilight’s place. Sunset made up a line about studying for the SATs, and it was hard to dispute that Twilight would be worried about that. In fact, Sunset made a mental note to ask if Twilight was worried about the SATs (in a way that wouldn’t make her start worrying about them if she wasn’t already).

She scurried out of the Principal’s office and down the hall before she could overhear anymore bits of flirting. As she was sneaking out, though, Trixie was headed straight for the Principal’s office. Not an unusual sight, really. Sunset smirked. “Hey, Trixie. Smoke-bomb accidentally exploded in the girls bathroom again? Just let me know which floor.”

Trixie waved the notion away like so much faulty stagemagic. “Oh no, Trixie has a holster now. Trixie’s here to see if this new ‘coun-sell-or’,” she enunciated as if reading the name from an official Ogres and Oubliettes guidebook, “is up to the standards of her school. Does Trixie need an appointment?”

Sunset could admire the protectiveness but she’d never known Trixie to be self-sacrificing without good reason. She frowned. “Why would you want one?”

“Not because Trixie is ‘damaged goods’ or anything. Don’t go telling the school Trixie has feelings! But... sometimes?” Her lilac eyes roamed the halls for anyone else on their free period, just in case. “It takes a lot out of me to be the magical savior of the school.”

Sunset jerked her head back, blinking. The what? Brain short-circuiting, she elected to go with the much kinder option of saying, “Oh, does it really?”

“Very much so,” Trixie confessed, looking scandalized that she’d so much as admitted it. “Having the weight of the whole school on Trixie’s great and powerful shoulders is exhausting! And now the sky is broken? What’s going to come out of that? Sometimes this magic stuff is all too much—and Trixie is a magician!”

Trixie drank in air like a refreshing taste of stream water on a long mountainside hike and pointed an accusatory finger toward Sunset. “Wow. You’re a good listener. But, you know, don’t tell Sunset Shimmer I have any complaints about magic. That girl’s got enough going on as it is with whatever happened during the fire drill, and she hasn’t even reached out to her best friend Trixie to talk about it! Between you and me, I think your girlfriend could use some counselling, too.”

Sunset’s shoulders bunched up by her neck. “Sunset’s fine! Why does the whole world want her to go to therapy all of the sudden?” She noticed the raised eyebrow on the magician and remembered to Twilight up her voice. “Uh. That is to say, I disagree.”

Trixie shrugged. “If you say so. Oh, and no offence.”

“None taken,” Sunset sighed automatically. At least this is a new way of people dissing me to my face.

Sunset watched Trixie duck into Solstice Shiver’s new office beside the principal’s and decided if Solstice was anti-magic, he didn’t seem malicious about it. That was enough for her not to accuse him, at least, but she thought better of letting her guard down completely. As an ex-demon herself, Sunset couldn’t condone the idea of eternally condemning someone for their past (which, after all, wasn’t today), but she also couldn’t put her friends in any more jeopardy than she already had. She decided they’d have to maintain their low profile as each other until she could be sure.

She also decided to get as far away from these offices as possible before anybody else could tell her she must be dealing with a lot right now because she was dealing with too much to have to hear about it.

The soccer field got an upgrade senior year thanks in large part to Rainbow Dash. Or that’s at least what Dash told everyone in a three mile radius and not that her friends would say it out loud, but she had a point. The soccer team had only made it to nationals once before Rainbow Dash joined in freshman year, and ever since she’d brought out the best in everyone to the point that they at least placed every year. CHS was practically the sports school these days.

As such, the school board or the principals or whoever decided funding saw it fit to give the school almost too much money for this one specific thing. Industrial grade field lights⁠—the kind typically reserved for a big city football stadium—beamed down like the tractor beams from alien spaceships in the sci-fi movies Twilight liked.

They also got a sound system, which Vinyl Scratch was now operating to play pump-up music to get the crowd warmed up.

Even the bleachers got a makeover. The dinky set of seats they used to have went curbside as soon as they got the fifteen-level deep stands stretching the full length of the field for home games like the one going on tonight.

No one could say Canterlot High didn’t take soccer seriously: even as flakes of snow continued to pour down and land on the field, the final game of the fall season against Hollow Shades High ploughed on. Players’ breaths could be seen in the air. The electricity of their competitive spirit (and extra layers of jerseys) kept them warm.

Still operating Fluttershy’s body, Rainbow Dash paced in front of the closest seats to the field with both hands over her head as if they were bound. Clad in winter gear, most of the other girls and Flash hung around in the stands directly behind her, watching her pace. Twilight sat next to Sunset automatically, but those must’ve been weird optics for anyone out of the know. And even for those in the know, apparently. Flash kept staring every chance he could.

Something sunk in Sunset when she realized the obvious. Oh, pony feathers. He used to have a thing for Twilight. Not this Twilight, but I mean, kind of? Twilights in general? This probably isn’t helping him feel over all that.

Watching Rainbow Dash circle a pylon, Fluttershy tapped her pale fingers together. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Rainbow. He can’t be... that bad, right?”

“Oh god,” Rainbow Dash said, pacing faster.

Since Rarity was late to arrive, the person who currently had Timber’s body (still not any easier to parse in Sunset’s mind), Sunset took it upon herself to speak up on Timber’s behalf. “You probably don’t have anything to worry about, Dash. Timber’s in pretty good shape.” Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Flash squirming in his seat, as if he hadn’t gotten a handle on how to sit with a skirt yet. “Any teenage boy with anything resembling abs knows what a sport is.”

“And he’s in your body, so he’s got all your super cool moves now!” Pinkie Pie chirped, kicking out her legs. It still didn’t look natural to see Applejack with so much (possibly boundless) energy. “That’s how that works, right?”

Or for that matter, to see Pinkie still and sturdy as an oak, arms crossed. “Pretty sure Rainbow’s the one who learned any of those ‘moves’, but I reckon her body’s got the stamina and strength, so he should be fine, sugarcube.”

As soon as she saw Timber hustling out from the gym, Rainbow threw down her hands and barked, “Dude!”

“Present and accounted for?” Timber raised his hand.

“You’re not wearing my varsity jacket!” Rainbow squeezed her temples between her hands. While it wasn’t accurate to say Fluttershy had never looked so stressed, it wasn’t usually over sports. “I always wear my jacket before a game for good luck!”

“You’re also usually yourself for good luck and I’d say that tends to matter more.” He seemed to catch on that it didn’t help. “But I’ve totally got this! I’ve kicked a ball or two in my time.”

She made a face like a fussy toddler. “Were any of them soccer balls?”

“You know, I never asked them. I’d say there’s a high chance of probably.” He angled his hand in a vaguely comme-ci-comme-ca motion. “I’ve seen it played before, if that helps. Is the most important part reacting to injuries? I don’t want to toot my own horn, but I’m a master over-reactor. Referees love that, right?”

Rainbow Dash buried her face in her hands. “I’m never going to college. Goodbye degree.”

“Whoa wait, there aren’t actual recruiters here, are there?” He turned to look towards the audience which was when Rainbow Dash twisted him back, blocking her own eyes like the blinders on a racehorse.

“You don’t just know if there are recruiters at a game!” she whisper-shouted, which for Fluttershy’s voice, sounded suspiciously like talking. “I mean, you can. The coach can usually tell. But it’s supposed to be anonymous, so they can see you playing your best at any game they show up at! Plus, it’s the final game of the regular season! Everything is riding on this!”

Timber frowned. “That’s kind of unfair. They really don’t tell you? I guess it takes pressure off of one game, but then that distributes it over the whole season. More pressure per game probably worsens performance overall proportionally. I bet there’s an equation for that…”

Sunset saw why he and Twilight had dated.

It wouldn’t be fair to say she hadn’t seen it before. The two of them made a good couple for a while there, and she wouldn’t just say that to avoid sounding like the jealous girlfriend (even if that was an added benefit). Sunset watched the whole relationship start to finish, and the fact that she could stand to be around Timber at all should have spoken volumes to how well he treated her. Even if Sunset did it better.

A whistle blew and Coach Hothoof sent Timber out onto the field with a whooping cheer. Since Rainbow Dash’s father discovered he could volunteer as the school’s soccer coach, he found ways to cheer for his daughter in somewhat less biased ways. A tiny bit. A smidge.

Telling Dash’s dad about the volunteer position had been the best possible practical joke revenge Sunset could ever think of. Not too mean, but endlessly entertaining.

Rainbow Dash quivered, adopting Fluttershy’s mannerisms quite well. “I didn’t tell him he needs to kick and run. Kick and run! Kick and run!”

“Yeah! Woo! Way to sports!” Twilight added cheerfully, clapping. Other audience members joined in to root for the team. It endeared Sunset to her to no end that Twilight had so far been to all of Rainbow Dash’s various games and hadn’t picked up on a single sport-related concept other than statistics.

Timber lost the ball in the kick off, and it brought Rainbow Dash screaming to her knees.

Flash hummed. “She’s taking this better than I thought.”

“Yeah, she hasn’t even noticed that Rarity’s not here to cheer her on yet,” Applejack commented then looked to the others. “Speakin’ of, anybody know where Rarity is? Ain’t like her to be late for supportin’ her friends.”

Most of the others shrugged, Fluttershy among them. “I hope she didn’t have as much trouble as I did. Rarity was supposed to practice a monologue in drama class today, but when the spotlight shined on me, I may have hid behind the curtains.”

“I wish I could’ve turned tail,” Applejack admitted. “Pinkie must be signed up for every club or activity in the yearbook!”

Shrugging, Pinkie grinned guiltily. “They’re all fun!”

Applejack pushed her jaw to the side. “Oh, I’m sure they are. One at a time. Everybody came gabbin’ at me like I knew when the TableTop Games club games or the Fencing club fences and how all of ‘em go together for the LARP club. I don’t even know what a LARP is!” She aimed an eyebrow toward Pinkie. “Do I wanna know?”

“Hmmm,” Pinkie thought aloud (Sunset wouldn’t be surprised in the least to know Pinkie genuinely thought in thinking noises). “Well, I guess right now I’m you, and I already know, so the answer is nope!”

Applejack’s eyelids fell to half-mast. “Sounds about right.”

Down on the field in front of them, Rainbow Dash shouted, “Follow the ball! Don’t look at me, follow the ball!”

“Yeah, it’s still all pretty freaky,” Flash said, trying to laugh while his magnetized eyes kept darting back to Twilight. “You think maybe we can try switching back again? Soon? Like, just, y’know, an example but—before the boys gym class tomorrow morning?”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Why specifically then?”

“Very very random example,” he sputtered out. “Don’t worry about it. I just mean soonish. Any time now. When you’re ready.” Stiff-arming it, he slapped his hands down to grip his knees, and it made a smackingly wet noise.

“We’ll figure it out soon,” Twilight assured, leaning over to pat his highly tense shoulder, but afterwards she wrung her hands. “Although I must admit, it’s been an extremely confounding day being you, because, well, am I you? Or are you you? We’ve sort of just decided to say you’re Flash and I’m Twilight for simplicity, but what constitutes Flash Sentry or Twilight Sparkle, anyway? The other me in the pony world looks exactly like me, but she’s had different experiences, a whole other life, and she’s a princess but we still call her Twilight! So then which is it?! The body or the mind?”

Sunset’s eyebrows pushed together, but she tried to keep a gentle smile. “Babe, I think you’re overthinking things a tiny bit. You want me to steal you some hot chocolate from the soccer team?”

The coach wouldn’t notice a styrofoam cup or two missing from the stack. Coach Hothoof stood down by the benches and hollered like his daughter had won the World Series. “Ha! Way to go, Dasher! Let ‘em take the lead! It’s even more impressive to come back from behind!”

The real Rainbow Dash all but sobbed into the snow.

Sunset took her girlfriend’s hand, going the tried and true route of calming Twilight down, but even Sunset had to admit it felt wrong: what would normally be Twilight’s slender hand in what was usually Flash’s.

Mewling, Twilight raised their hands. “But even this is baffling! Am I holding your hand or my own? And by extension, who here is dating who? Who is who?! Are any of us ever ourselves?!”

Sunset frowned. If they were themselves, she could put an arm around her girlfriend, but anything she did now would probably freak Twilight out more. “I know it’s weird, but it’s not that weird, is it?”

Twilight looked like she wanted to say something to her then, but she didn’t get the chance. A deep, cultured voice stole their attention away, calling out to them, “Hello, darlings!”

Applejack murmured, “What in the ever-lovin’…?”

Sunset’s brain refused on principle to process what she was seeing: Timber Spruce with class. The kind of scotch-swirling, diamond-owning, tailored-suit-wearing class Sunset herself used to have when she lived in the Canterlot palace. It took her a full half a minute to remember that that was Rarity in there, and suddenly, it all made too much sense.

Rarity strut through the snow in shoes so nice it was a shame to walk in them. She’d managed to tame Timber’s wild curls into a coif, dressed his body up in a pine green button-up and hickory slacks, and twirled an overcoat over her shoulder as she sashayed across the field toward them. She first waltzed her way to Rainbow Dash, who remained knelt in the snow as snowflakes continued to pour. “Sorry I’m late, darling. What’s the score?”

“Devastation,” Rainbow Dash murmured, staring ahead, her breath in the air.

“How awful!” She chanced a glance at the scoreboard and raised an eyebrow. “Oh. But it looks like we’re winning.”

“By only one point! Timber’s going to give me a heart attack!” She grasped at her chest, looking distantly confused. “Or, wait, would it be giving Fluttershy a heart attack…?”

Rarity left her to her conundrum to do a model walk for the rest of their friends. “Well? What do we think? Is it Rarity enough for you all? Does it bring out my inner me or what?”

Looking too sour for it to be the real Pinkie Pie, Applejack watched her do a little turn on her imaginary catwalk on the field in front of them. “Rarity, what in got dang tarnation did you go and get all gussied up for?”

“Oh, psshaw, Applejack, really. You know me by now, don’t you? I thought while we’re all stuck as each other, there’s nothing saying we can't show our true selves. That’s what fashion is for! It’s as I always say,” she began, striking a pose. “Accessories make the girl! Or I suppose in this case, the woodsy dreamboat!”

Both Twilight and Flash gawked without a word. Sunset stayed on standby just in case either of them passed out since they’d done the same for her not long ago. Fluttershy, meanwhile, clapped. “Oh, that’s lovely, Rarity! How stylish! And much less confusing.”

“I beg to differ,” Flash muttered, though not loud enough for Rarity to hear. Sunset hadn’t known what it looked like to everyone else when she blushed before; it was a pretty colour, if nothing else.

Sunset sighed to Twilight. “Okay, yeah. It’s that weird now. Resume freakout.”

Twilight bit her lip. “Actually, can we talk? With Flash and Timber?”

Beneath the bleachers, Sunset waited with Twilight as Flash saved Timber from the halftime pep-talk he was getting from Rainbow Dash. A little light on breath, Timber ducked on the way in. “Hey. What’s up? Secret magic meeting?”

Flash brightened. Sunset had never experienced wanting to protect someone who looked so much like herself. “Did you figure out how to switch us all back?”

“Not exactly,” Twilight said, hugging her arms over her chest in the shadows of the snow-covered bleachers hanging over her. “But... I have a theory.”

Grins rocketed up on the boys faces and Timber chuckled. “That sounds like our girl!”

Sunset would’ve joined them, but something in her girlfriend’s tone snagged like a sickle down her throat. Her eyebrows lodged together. “What’s your theory?”

“Well, whatever’s going on with our magic has something to do with the four of us. That much is obvious. But until now, I couldn’t understand the connection. Are we not demonstrating our true selves? Are our geodes malfunctioning because of the rift in the atmosphere? If so, why not the others? I could come up with plausible explanations, but then, when I saw Rarity back there I realized—” She took in a breath, shaking her head. She looked up to them with flushed cheeks. “—it’s us. Our shared histories.”

“Like… fun times at camp?” Timber hoped aloud. The discomfort weighed down his smile.

Twilight shook her head.

“Gotcha. That history,” Timber muttered.

Call it intuition, call it empathy magic, but Sunset sensed the mood pressing down on all four of them, and she didn’t like where this was headed. She gestured toward Flash and even put an arm around him as she told them, “Flash and I are all good. We made amends and we’re total bros now. Back me up, Flash.”

Flash nodded. “It’s true.”

Timber’s eyes widened, and he looked to Twilight. “So, wait, does that mean it’s you and me doing this? I thought we were on good terms.”

“We are! We absolutely are! The best terms!” Twilight waved her hands frantically. “I mean, I think we are. I don’t think it’s necessarily just those of us who used to date, but I don’t know.” She shut her eyes and tried again, calmer. “What I’m trying to say is, I think there’s things we haven’t talked about and that could be manifesting in other ways. So, we should. And, um… I think…” Her eyes reached for Sunset’s in the dark of the bleachers, the sounds of the game starting up again behind them. “I think until we’re back in the bodies we belong in, we should put things on pause.”

Sunset breathed in.

Twilight must’ve seen the look in her eyes, the one she no doubt had when all the world around them and their friends might not last the night. Twilight lurched forward and rushed out, “Only until then! A-and it wouldn’t be a break! No one has to go on break!” She shot a look toward Timber and Flash then looked up at Sunset despite being taller than her in Flash Sentry’s body. “Just... pause.”

Flash and Timber hovered on the edge of this conversation, locked in a look with each other that they didn’t seem to want to end. Timber winced, and his voice came out much quieter than Sunset was used to. “It… probably makes sense. Would kind of be false advertising to start dating Timber and wind up with ‘Rainbow Dash’...”

“Yeah,” Flash said. His voice rumbled. “I guess it would be.”

Dammit. Sunset rubbed her face and managed to stall any welling behind her eyes before it could start. She couldn’t even get a proper kiss first. She breathed out. “You’re right. It sucks, but okay. Pause. What’s our next move?”

That at least got Twilight to smile. “We do what we do best: we make friends.”

7. The Heart-to-Heart of the Matter

Sunset Shimmer reminded herself that she was a friendship expert, which meant she had a high probability of making a single friend. Did she love that it had to be Timber Spruce? No comment. But at least she liked to think she wasn’t alone, even if she felt it. Twilight had the task of befriending Flash Sentry, who currently stood in between them.

In and of itself, befriending Flash would normally be as simple as taking the next breath. Even back when Sunset was as despicable and flagrantly evil as they came, Flash gave her a chance. And then after everything she’d done, knowing that darkness in her better than anyone, he told her that she’d deserved a second. It was why she’d defend the kid in everything⁠—except maybe when they were playing one v. one in Street Kombat III.

In that case, he would perish under her pixelated boot.

But even those hang out sessions she’d admittedly kept separate from Twilight. Okay, maybe that also had to do with wanting to spend some one on one time with Twilight even before they were together, but it also also had to do with the awkwardness that came with Twilight being a parallel of the person who never really gave Flash closure.

Sunset heaved a sigh. She knew, as one of the two friendship experts here, she should take charge. Get it over with, Shimmer. You’ve got this. Friendship is magic and whatever. “Twilight’s right. Better to face this head on.”

As if to spite Sunset specifically, the referee’s whistle beckoned the players back toward the field. Timber cast a glance through the slats of the bleachers, likely noticing Rainbow Dash’s stressed dance-in-place, and left to rejoin the game, walking backwards. “Sounds like a plan, Sergeant Major Sparkle.” And then grinned to Sunset. “Catch you after the game, new best friend?”

He didn’t wait for her answer. Couldn’t, really. Emerging from beneath the bleachers, they could see him getting chewed out by Dash for not rallying the troops during halftime like she always did. From across the way, they caught her asking, “Dude! No peptalk? What kind of Rainbow Dash are you?”

One hand on a nearby support beam, Twilight turned to Flash. “Well, looks like Timber might be occupied for a while, but you and I can get a headstart on this new friendship, if you’d like.”

Flash brightened, nodding. “Uh, yeah, okay. That sounds great!” He managed to make Sunset’s river teal eyes as wide-eyed and unassuming as the baby fawn’s that Sunset once saw on a diplomatic trip with Princess Celestia to Thicket, the kingdom of the deer. He rubbed the back of his head as they returned to the stands. “How do we… do that?”

Back in their seats for the final half, Twilight twiddled her thumbs in her lap. “Oh! Um. I suppose it’s easiest to begin with an ice breaker, and from what I’ve studied about conversationalism, a common topic of conversation is your current shared situation, such as a party or the weather.” Sunset thought it was foul play to be this adorkable while they were on pause, but she also knew that there wasn’t a switch Twilight could turn off. She’d have to save up her kisses for later. (She hoped they’d come in handy…) “Do you like sports, Flash?”

Flash flinched, eyes flickering from Twilight to the field. “Uh, well, music is kind of more my thing. And baking. Sometimes knitting. Um. I’m not really a sports guy.” He winced, pushing his mouth to the side. “I guess you can sort of tell, huh?”

Twilight brightened as if she’d been given a pop quiz. “Oh, that’s perfect! I know nothing about sports, either! We already have something in common!”

Arms stretching behind her head, Sunset rested her feet on the railing in front of her. “Well, that, and you’re both big gay dorks.” Saying it out loud brought the connection together in her mind, and she frowned. “Wait, does that mean I have a type?”

“Did you hear that, Flash?” Twilight pumped her fists up and down as genuine enthusiasm oozed from her voice. “We’re the same type!”

He smiled awkwardly, confirming Sunset did indeed have a type. Huh. You learn something new everyday.

Down on the grass, Rainbow Dash lost the remainder of her mind to the tune of Lightning Struck blasting over the loudspeakers. She danced from foot to foot and likely not just to keep warm in the gathering snow. “We’re tied?! How can we be tied?!”

Pinkie Pie leaned over the railing of the bleachers—so far, in fact, that Sunset would be worried she’d flip right over if she wasn’t Pinkie. “We have the same score as the other team, so that makes us equal! Yay, we’re all winners!”

Rarity hummed, tapping her chin. “Actually, dear, I think that would result in sudden death today. I believe draws this late in the season require a resolution, especially with the early snow this year. They do tend to like their winners in sports games.”

Rainbow Dash threw up her hands, maybe in lieu of just throwing up. “Somebody score a goal! You’re killing me over here! Wait, no, not the other team—not the other team! I shouldn’t have to say that!”

Applejack clapped her on the shoulder, if for no other reason than to let her know she was right despite what reality seemed to think.

Hollow Shades High trampled across the snow-woven field. Black jerseys flaunting jagged green stripes dominated over Canterlot blue and gold. Their star forward wrestled the ball away from Timber, even when he’d gotten the hang of dribbling between his feet or passing off to his teammates (mostly just passing). In nearly every sense of the word, Canterlot High’s goalie carried the team tonight by defending against the Hollow Shades Bats and their lightning fast shots, but even Fleetfoot couldn’t stop everything.

The forward shot the ball—a direct hit with the net in the upper right corner with a decisive swish.

Rainbow Dash reacted as if she’d been kicked in the stomach, puttering out her breath. An eruption of cheers from the other set of stands seemed to shoot shrapnel directly into Dash’s heart, and a chant began that took Sunset a moment to parse as, LIGHT-NING DUST! LIGHT-NING DUST! LIGHT-NING DUST!

Lightning Dust pounded her fists in the snow-spinning air. “Yeah, baby! Who’s number one?”

Scootaloo, the Wondercolt team’s water-girl, grimaced up at Coach Hothoof, who pounded his large hands together. “Hey, good hustle out there, Dasher, good hustle!”

The actual Rainbow Dash buried her face into her hands. Anyone who didn’t know who that was must’ve thought Fluttershy had money on this game.

Sunset grimaced, watching Dash more than the game. “I don’t know if she can take much more of this. Timber needs to start winning fast.” The song over the loudspeakers paused to allow for a kickoff at centerfield to reset the players. From her properly decent seat, Sunset could see the exhaustion setting into Timber in his laboured steps back to position. But he shouldn’t be tired yet. He’s got Rainbow Dash’s stamina, he should be able to go as hard as she usually does.

It took the empath an embarrassing amount of time to realize exactly what was going wrong. Sunset hadn’t paid it much mind before then, but as she caught Timber’s pink eyes looking back to Rainbow Dash, who by this point was grieving on Applejack’s shoulder, she got it: he knew exactly how much responsibility weighed on his shoulders, and he thought he was blowing it.

It also probably doesn’t help that his boyfriend isn’t exactly his boyfriend right now, she thought and swore to high Mount Olympus.

The referee set the ball centerfield between Lightning Dust and Timber, and even with his team in position around him, the fear in his pink eyes made Lightning smirk. She said something to him Sunset couldn’t hear, but Timber winced. Watching him grimace twisted unpleasantly in her stomach.

“That’s it.” Sunset stood up and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Come on, Rainbow Dash! You can do this!”

Even if the real Rainbow Dash stared up at her like she didn’t understand what Sunset expected her to do about it, Flash caught on. He stood up next to her by the railing and started chanting, “Let’s go, Wondercolts! Let’s go!”

Twilight followed suit, smiling to him as her voice joined in. The rest of their friends joined after that, and the home crowd picked it up fast. Soon, half a hundred voices barked back into the night and Sunset shot Timber two thumbs up.

Out on the field, he grinned.

The ref blew his whistle. The song changed over the speakers: a guitar led the charge. Timber shot the ball away from Lightning Dust behind him, to the midfielder, Soarin. Every tiny win like that had Sunset and their friends cheering, but the game was far from over yet.

And Lightning Dust didn’t give up her lead so easily. It took nearly the rest of the second half to tie it up again, and by then, sweat rolled off every player. Every move was hard fought. Every inch a battleground. Fleetfoot and the Hollow Shades goalie launched themselves for save after save, and it was starting to look like neither would give.

At some point, Applejack had fetched Rainbow a paper bag to hyperventilate in, puffing it in and out like an indecisive balloon.

“Come on, come on...” Flash muttered under his breath as they leaned on the rail. All of them had long forgotten their seats, now collecting snow anyway, but they’d also forgotten the cold. His eyes flared for a moment, and he looked to Twilight. “Huh. How’s this for an icebreaker?”

“I guess cheering for Timber is another thing we have in common,” Twilight mused, and a smile grew on her face.

“Yeah! That’s really cool, by the way,” Flash spoke up, “that you can still cheer for him and be his friend after your breakup. Took me a while to get to that point.”

Sunset wrestled an arm around his neck, but it was more of an aggressive hug than a strangle-hold. “Hey, I was also a raging she-demon at the time, so no one blames you.”

Twilight smiled at the two of them, and there was almost a pride in her expression. “Of course Sunset was the first friend I’ve ever made besides my dog Spike, but Timber was the first friend I made myself, all on my own. He made it easy.”

Flash’s smile melted. “Yeah. He’ll do that.”

“Wow, is soccer always so good friendship-building? Hm. A shared experience to bring people together in support of a common goal... It’s kind of fun, actually. I think I understand sports now!” Twilight whooped. “Woo! Go, Wondercolts! Way to score those touchdowns!”

Flash smiled goodnaturedly to Sunset, and she would’ve laughed with him, but Sunset felt like supporting her girlfriend. The air was alive with support in the stands now. “What she said! Keep up the touchdowns, Rainbow!”

To Flash’s credit, he went along with it, too, swinging his arms. “Touch those downs!”

And touch those downs they did.

Soarin wrestled the ball away from Lightning Dust by passing it to Timber at the penalty line. All the rest of his teammates were guarded. The goal waited ahead. Winding back, Timber took a tumble backwards Sunset thought was an accident until she realized he was effectively pile-driving his entire weight into the ball as he booted it as hard as he could.

Barely scratching past the goalie’s gloved fingers, the ball connected with the net.

An uproarious cheer detonated in the Canterlot High stands, Sunset’s voice possibly the loudest among them as her fists shot up into the air. Flash and Twilight high-fived. Rainbow Dash jumped up and down, saying, “I knew you could do it!”

Back tinged green with grass-stains, Timber ran a victory lap by the stands for high fives.

After the soccer game, Sunset had to drag Timber away from a team lifting him up on their shoulders for “carrying the season,” even if Rainbow Dash did all the real work. Although Dash herself cheered for him the loudest, so Sunset didn’t feel like she could get too mad. He didn’t seem to know how to react to being treated like the school hero, hoisted up, patted on the back, and splashed with the sports drink from the team’s cooler.

“Uh, thanks everybody,” he said, but even his trademark enthusiasm sounded a little dimmed when he noticed Flash on the outskirts of the group.

She couldn’t blame the guy. You haven’t lost anyone, Sunset reminded herself. She fought down the feeling. Twilight’s right. We put our night on pause when Timber interrupted. This is just more of the same. We can’t exactly do anything like this anyway.

If that was the case, she reminded herself of what waited on the other side of that pause, and it was enough to light a fire under her.

But that fire would have to wait. Timber couldn’t possibly get out of the afterparty with the team or the celebration Coach Hothoof promised waited for “Rainbow” at home. Especially after Timber was approached by a figure from the crowd. “Nice playing out there. I’m a recruiter from Nightfall Reach Military Academy and I must say, you’d make a great soldier…”

After that point, Coach Hothoof squeezed his little girl in a crushing hug and there was no escape. Especially not when Rainbow Dash offered to buy Timber all the drinks and pizza he could handle (totally not squealing and running around the field yelling that she was going to college).

Sunset went back to her apartment alone for the first time in a few days that night. She almost missed him. Almost, of course, being the key word, but still. And she would have enjoyed a relaxing night alone had Scruffers not come through looking for Sunset.

That normally wouldn’t be a problem, but for one thing, Sunset didn’t look like Sunset, and for another, the cat quite literally came phasing through the window from the fire escape and hopped down as if nothing extraordinary happened.

Sunset gawked at the cat swerving his tail back and forth in front of her. She picked him up to stare at his little kitty eyes. “What? You can walk through walls? Since when could you do that?!”

“Mrreow,” Scruffers answered and in the next moment refused to be held, so he phased through her hands, plopping back onto the floor.

Sunset decided then that Equestrian magic and that rift in the sky had officially gone too far.

So the next day, the first thing Sunset did was pick Timber Spruce up from Dash’s one-story bungalow on her motorcycle. She tossed him a helmet, which she usually saved for Twilight.

He bounded back as he caught it, smirking. “Whoa. This really isn’t a look I’m used to seeing from Twilight.”

That was a fair point. Last night she’d grabbed her leather jacket from her place and her clothes were a bit loose on Twilight, but not comically so. The look still worked. Almost too well, really; it only stung more to see Twilight wearing her jacket the way she sometimes did over her shoulders when Sunset gave it to her on their dates.

All the more reason to hurry this up, Sunset thought.

She shrugged to Timber. “Rarity made a good point yesterday. It’s easier to tell who's who if we differentiate somehow. Now get on.” Holding out the beanie he’d left at her apartment, she offered a smile along with it. “We’ve got some bonding to do.”

If Timber thought he got the hero’s welcome as Sunset, being Rainbow Dash after scoring the winning goal for the last game of the season may as well have made their walk through the halls a parade route. As it was, as they walked in, Applejack steadied a ladder for Pinkie, so that she could hang a banner over the trophy case by the front entrance reading, Congratulations, Wondercolts!

When Scootaloo saw him walk in, she applauded. “Woohoo! Go, Rainbow Dash!”

The other students in the freshman and sophomore hall clapped along, offering their congrats. Sunset smirked and nudged Timber’s side, and he shrugged as if to say, Well, if you insist.

He waved like the queen, telling passersby, “Thanks! Go Wondercolts! Hey, thanks for coming out! I couldn’t have done it without my fans!” He winked Sunset’s way as he signed a glossy photo of Rainbow Dash that Scootaloo apparently just had in her backpack.

Doing her best not to roll her eyes, Sunset already felt much better about their chances. He had Twilight’s stamp of approval, clearly, and she’d learned her lesson from Wallflower: play nice. She could do nice. And it seemed like it was working: he had crowds of new friends all around now!

The only other crowd, they would come to find, was outside of Counsellor Solstice’s office. A sign-up sheet for hour-long slots in the day had already begun a small collection of names, and a number of students waited around for their chance to add to it. Sunset frowned at how many names she could see on that list. Mostly because she hadn’t expected more than one. Are there really that many students so traumatized by Equestrian magic that they need counselling?

Then again, the students waiting for their turn weren’t exactly a shock to the system. Bulk Biceps cried at the idea of someone else crying, and during every conflict Sunset could think of, Roseluck, Lily, and Daisy fainted in triplicate. Every single time. Sunset would have thought it would’ve gotten less shocking by now. Still, even if all the students here were especially sensitive, Sunset frowned. That was a lot of sensitivity…

Timber pouted his lip out mostly just in surprise, sending a look to Sunset. “Dang. Guess I’m not the only Mr. Popular around here.”

Solstice came out of his office protecting his coffee mug like a lifeline, and when he saw the number of students, his hooded eyes flared wide and round. He first assessed how much coffee he had left. Then, his grip tightened on the handle. “Are... all of you here for me?”

A number of them nodded, but Bulk Biceps looked so nervous he might break something in half (any emotion made him look ready to break things; or maybe that was just conditioning to know that he could, at any moment, break the vast majority of things in his vicinity). Instead he shifted from foot to foot. “What happens if you run out of appointments?! I need to talk about my magic feelings! They’re as strong as my muscles!”

“Run out?” Solstice stammered, as if that hadn’t occurred to him. “I don’t think—”

Roseluck and her friends, Daisy and Lily, were looking faint already. “What’s wrong with the sky?! What do we do about the crack?”

“Is a demon going to come out of it?!” Lily asked, a hand already raised just in case she needed to faint onto her friends. “That happens a lot at our school!”

Daisy moaned. “We never had demons at my old school…”

Solstice flinched back to the point that his coffee narrowly avoided a spill, plopping back into his mug. He attempted to steady his hand with the other. “A demon?”

“That’s just what we call it here,” said Wallflower Blush, signing her name onto the list beside him. Sunset felt a bit bad that she hadn’t noticed Wallflower until then, but in her own defence, Wallflower had an almost catlike ability to slink past crowds unnoticed, and in this case the girl managed to get to the sign-up sheet in all the commotion. Impressive, really.

Wallflower finished signing her name, and her eyebrows tightened over her eyes. “Devil, demon, horrible winged-monster. There’s not exactly a technical term for this stuff. It’s what happens whenever magic turns someone into a dark reflection of themselves, but... you don’t really need to transform into a demon for that.”

Sunset’s heart plunged into icy rapids. She thought Wallflower knew she could talk to her friends if she needed help coming to terms with what happened vis-a-vis the Memory Stone. More accurately and importantly, Sunset thought Wallflower already had.

Not long after restoring Sunset’s memory, the two of them went for ice cream together at Sweet Snacks Diner. By that point, it was already starting to become Sunset’s go-to spot for reconciliation with people who used to hate her (pushing aside the fact that most people didn’t need a regular place for that). She thought they’d had a good talk. She thought Wallflower was on her way to getting over it. I told her how her past is not today, right? Should I have sung a song about it?

And, okay, Sunset knew from experience that the guilt after something like what Wallflower did could be a tough demon to shake. But Wallflower knew she wasn’t alone in that fight, didn’t she? She’d met Juniper Montage, Gloriosa and her would probably really hit it off, Sunset definitely sort of remembered telling her about Vignette Valencia, and if those girls weren’t already Post-Crush fans…

“It’s more common than you think. That just means you have more new friends to depend on,” Sunset spoke up, passing along the same gentle smile to Wallflower that she had when she’d extended her hand in friendship. Bonus points for the fact that she currently resided in Twilight, who likely would have said something similar about trouble magnetism, which was starting to bother Sunset now that she thought about it. If they were themselves, would Twilight put her name up on that list instead of talking things out with her friends? “Us demons have to stick together, right?”

“It’s happened so much you have a name for it?” Solstice pushed his hand back into his hair, making his eyes look that much bigger. “How awful! I’m so sorry you’ve all had to deal with that even once, let alone…” He took a breath, stopping himself before he could send Bulk Biceps into tears. He laid a hand on Wallflower’s shoulder. “It sounds like you’ve all been through a lot. That must be hard to deal with.”

Wallflower nodded, and the rest of the gathered students looked ready to agree.

In the chaos, as the others began to speak over each other, Sunset noticed his eyes rise to find the sun on Principal Celestia’s door across the hall and a small smile formed. He drew in a long breath and out, took a sip of coffee, and greeted the students with an awkward but friendly wave. “Alright then. So who’s my 8:30?”

Wallflower smiled and followed him into his office.

The rest of the walk toward their lockers on the third floor dragged on longer than usual. Partly because Timber had so many new friends high-fiving or complimenting him it was easy to get distracted, but Sunset couldn’t stop her mind from stumbling over its own thoughts.

Inspiration manifestation wasn’t a spell Sunset had any measure of mastery over in Equestria, but it seemed like she had a decent grasp of the concept in the human world since the moment they came across Flash Sentry in the athletics hall; he appeared every bit as distressed and overwhelmed as she felt. Now that was a face she’d seen on herself before.

If Timber remembered he and his boyfriend were on pause, he didn’t let that stop him. “Whoa, hey, are you ok—”

Flash rushed over to them, pushing Timber back as a downpour of shushes overflowed from his lips. His eyes bulged. Casting glances backward, he made Sunset look feral and at no point did contracting rabies cross her mind as something to be worried about—until now. He kept his voice just between them, and his eyes instructed them to do the same. “Sunset, help. You said we’d be changed back before my gym class.”

Timber’s eyes plinked onto Sunset’s.

“I said we’d try, but making friends takes time, okay?” Sunset bent her neck to the side. “Why do you need us back by your gym class?”

As she said that, Twilight emerged from the boys’ locker room in the blue and gold gym uniform every CHS student was required to have. Seeing her, Flash made a high-pitched whine that didn’t sound too different from the yelp Spike made whenever someone stepped on his tail. He mouthed the words, FIX THIS barely whispering, and turned back to Twilight. “O-oh! You changed fast…”

Twilight wrinkled up her nose. “Yeah, I didn’t want anyone to talk to me or notice that I shut my eyes. Plus, it really stinks in there.”

“Ah, eau de teenage boy.” Timber smirked, nodding. Wafting air towards himself, he took a deep breath as if taking in the icy altitude air of the misty mountains back at Camp Everfree. “Don’t you just love the smell of testosterone and puberty in the morning?”

Twilight stuck out her tongue and made a quiet, “Bleh. I guess I’m going to have to love it for first period.”

Flash’s eyes darted to Sunset since Timber’s powers of distraction weren’t doing the job. She shook her head just slightly, hands upturned, like Dude, what do you expect from me here???

She wanted to help, but if he was asking her to magically conjure up a counter spell for their little swap conundrum, Flash would be shit out of luck. If he wanted boyfriend comfort, that was Timber’s territory these days, but even then, she couldn’t work out what exactly was so frightening about Twilight taking his gym glass for him. He wasn’t exactly a varsity athlete. Even if he was scared she’d trip over her own gym shoes, that… not to be mean to Flash, but that sounded more like him than anyone else.

Whatever the issue was, Timber either understood or was going along with Flash’s panic, as he leaned on one of the double doors to the gym, playfully pushing the push bar in and out behind him. “Orrr we could skip class and have some quality bonding time as new best friends!”

Sunset’s eyes flared when he mentioned the words skip and class so close to one another. She slashed her hand back and forth in front of her throat where Twilight couldn’t see, and Flash shook his head, mouthing the word no over and over.

Twilight gasped. “Timber Brambleton Spruce! Cut class? Cut class?!”

Sunset sighed quietly. Flash bowed his head miserably.

She threw her arms out. “You’re homeschooled! You have to know the importance of education, and we can’t just—just— you can’t be serious!”

Timber blinked. “I can’t?”

Sunset had seen Twilight’s lecture face enough to recognize one was coming on, but to everyone’s surprise, possibly including Twilight, she let out a breath instead. “I didn’t mean to explode, it’s just, um. No. No thank you. I promise we can talk more about magic and bonding later, but we should all be getting to class if we don’t want to be tardy.”

Timber stepped aside as to not make a scene about it, sending an apologetic look to his boyfriend who, right now, trembled next to Sunset. She raised an eyebrow at that but couldn’t say anything. Is something really that wrong?

Twilight walked toward the gym, and her hand reached the push bar.

“Wait!” Flash scrambled over and pawed a hand over hers. His cheeks simmered a startling red hot. “Don’t.”

Wide-eyed, Twilight stared at him. “Why not?”

Groaning like he was in serious physical pain, Flash buried his flushed face into his other hand in one large full-body wince. The concern really set in when she noticed his legs shaking in spasms from the knee as if he’d been locked in the walk-in freezer at Sugarcube Corner. He sighed his eyes shut, then dared to peek them open to mutter, “I... I don’t want you to feel what I feel in gym class.”

His eyes met hers in earnest now. “If you haven’t already noticed, it’s going to be really obvious if you have to run laps or climb the rope.” Flash drunk in air, but it came in staggering. Sunset was worried he might choke. His cheeks smoldered the colour of construction paper cards on Hearts and Hooves Day. “I don’t want you to know I eat when I’m stressed.”

Perplexed, Twilight’s eyes flickered on him as what he said clicked into place. “You…?”

Timber looked ready to throw the pause out the window and Sunset wouldn’t have blamed him. “Flash—”

Twilight glanced down at Flash’s body, which only made him cringe and rush to explain, “I know, I know it’s getting bad. I’m trying to cut back! It’s just, after I broke up with Sunset, things were rough for a while. I didn’t know how to deal! I started in with the comfort foods, and it didn’t bother me as much at first, but then we had all these huge magic disasters on the regular and you all started rushing into danger and it all sort of just caught up with me! It really doesn’t help that I like baking so much. So I started wearing hoodies to hide how chubby I’m getting, and that kind of worked for a while but now you’re me and I can’t hide anything.”

“But... you don’t have anything to hide.” Twilight told Flash in his own voice, “There’s nothing wrong with your body, Flash. I know I haven’t been you for very long at all, but I really don’t think you should be so hard on yourself.”

Timber smiled, albeit gently, and held out a hand. “That’s what I’ve been saying. Total hottie!”

“Aww, dude.” Sunset’s eyebrows held so tightly to her eyes she could feel a headache forming between them. A carousel of memories whirled. Fun-house circus lights coloured all the times she didn’t think twice about Flash turning down milkshakes with the girls at Sugarcube Corner, leaving her the last slice of pizza during game night, or keeping his shirt on at the beach.

She felt sick thinking of all the times she didn’t notice one of her best friends hiding from her—hiding because of her and her stupid magic stressing him out even more. She was supposed to be good at reading people. What kind of friend missed all that? “You’ve been that stressed this whole time, and you never talked to me? I would’ve told you you’re fine.”

Flash’s expression remained pained as if he’d stepped into an animal trap and couldn’t escape. “No, guys, it’s seriously bad. I’ve got love handles, my pants don’t fit right. Arrgh, you can see it!” He covered his eyes.

As the resident pony in a human’s body, Sunset didn’t want to say it out loud, but she didn’t totally understand what the problem was.

Well, she did, humans made a problem out of everything, but at the same time, all ponies had some softness to them in Equestria. Then she came to the human dimension, and everyone looked malnourished to her—Sunset originally assumed there was a famine there before she caught on that no, human bodies were just weird like that.

So even if she had noticed Flash filling out before now (and if she squinted, okay, yeah, now that he’d pointed it out she could see a bit of a pudge around the middle that wasn’t there when they were dating), she wouldn’t have thought anything bad of it. But she knew her standards were a touch different, so she didn’t want to make a comparison Flash would find embarrassing. I’m pretty sure I lose one whole Flash Sentry just by going through the portal from Equestria.

So like she usually did when she wasn’t sure what humans were supposed to think about things, she studied her friends. Timber kept mostly quiet, but there was a kind, patient smile free from judgement. She got the sense they’d had this conversation before.

Meanwhile, Twilight didn’t look nearly as horrified as Flash seemed to think she should be. At worst, she looked concerned, but from the way her eyes were trained on him, Sunset could tell a few pounds wasn’t what had her worried.

“Gym class is always the worst with the uniform since I… I really don’t want to have to ask for a size up.” Flash sunk into himself, as if hoping to disappear, or failing that, make himself as small as possible. “I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know, but especially not you.”

Twilight dipped her chin slightly to hold his gaze since he was insistent on shrinking away. “...You mean because I look like her?”

He winced and his river green eyes filled to bursting. A slight nod came first, and then he shook his head at himself. “Sorry,” he sighed, “I don’t want to make things weird. You don’t deserve that! But well, yeah, if I’m being honest, I guess it’s always been weird, and I don’t know how to get around that. I know you’re not the Princess. And I’m over her, or as over her as I can be.”

“But I remind you of her?” Twilight finished and smiled through a shrug when he looked ready to apologize again. “It’s not like I don’t see the resemblance. That’s probably been hard for you. I don’t exactly know how to deal with it, either. I’ve kind of just dodged the issue whenever it comes up.”

“No, that’s fair, though! It’s not your baggage to deal with,” he said and pressed a hand to his chest. “It’s mine. She left without looking back. That’s not something I should hold against you. Or her, that much, but especially not you! Maybe I should start to get to know you for you instead of a Princess of Equestria.”

“Well, that’s going to be easy,” Twilight told him, and the giggle hidden in her voice was so slight it was almost imaginary. “There’s no comparison. She’s saved the world countless times against mind-boggling odds and earned a crown twice-over! Apart from helping out my friends with magic, my biggest claim to fame is being Crystal Prep’s top mathlete three years running. Or, well, was.” A haunted look possessed her. “Oh gosh, all my academic records have probably broken by now! Wow, that’s… humbling, I suppose...”

Flash’s smile quirked to the left. “Hey, that’s still pretty impressive if you ask me.”

“Not like her, it’s not.” The air left her in one fell swoop, shrugging. But she then returned his smile and upped the ante with a wink. “That’s the point.”

He chuckled, rubbing his hand through the curls at the back of his head. “I guess so. That’s… honestly maybe a good thing, though. It clearly messed me up when she left without saying goodbye. She has her own life to live in the other dimension, so it’s not her fault, but...”

“Yeah. I don’t blame her either, or try not to anyway, but you’re right, sometimes it feels like she left everyone behind to fulfill her grand magical destiny back home, and then all you had left was... me. I know I have people who care about me now, but I’m no magical pony princess. I’m not eloquent. I’m not graceful. I stumble over myself just trying to get to class. I can’t imagine how someone like me could ever become someone like her,” Twilight said, holding herself. “It hasn’t been easy standing in my own shadow.”

A short-lived snicker interrupted the rebuttal that Sunset was about to jump into. Flash leaned his head to the side. “Sorry, it’s just—I know what you’re doing. You’ve had her up on this pedestal for so long it’s hard to take her off, right?”

“Oh.” The corner of Twilight’s mouth lifted. “You do get it.”

“I think so, yeah,” Flash said nodding. “For what it counts, I know I still have a lot to learn about who you really are, but whoever you are, I promise I don’t expect you to be some amazing demigod princess. Not to mention I’d be pretty hypocritical if I judged people for being kind of klutzy.”

“Or clumsy,” Sunset added, smirking. “Bumbling is a pretty good word, too.”

“Oh don’t forget blundering!” Timber chimed in. “It’s super cute when you blunder.” It only just occurred to Sunset to wonder if Timber had the same type as her, even though they’d both only ever dated the same two people. So yes, she thought, he absolutely does.

Flash raised a hand, grinning quite happily, as if exhibiting evidence for the court.

Twilight giggled in kind. “Well, it would be really nice to have a friend who babbles as much as I do.”

“Yeah! By all means, babble away! If you stammer, all the better! I’m an expert stammerer.” Flash waved his hands as if to wipe the slate clean. “No unrealistic expectations going forward. Does… that sound good?”

“I’d really, really like that,” she told him and took the opportunity to aim an eyebrow his way. “Just as long as that applies to you and your body, too.”

Flash blushed anew. “Oh. I, uh—”

The late bell for first period rang, and, squawking, Twilight jumped to open the gym door, but she hesitated. She looked back toward Flash. “Oh gosh, would you be okay with me taking your gym class? I promise I won’t think any of you any differently either way....”

Taking a breath, Flash’s hands found the pockets of his jeans. “If we’re really going to get to know each other, that’s a pretty good way to do it, I guess.” He half-heartedly swung an arm. “Touch those downs.”

Twilight smiled at him, flashing a thumbs up before disappearing into the gymnasium.

Timber bumped a shoulder into Flash’s. “Hey. Proud a’ you.”

Sunset nodded, offering a fist bump, which Flash reciprocated in kind.

“Also, okay, I know we’re paused right now, but I’m sorry, you have to know now that you’ve got a cute butt—you saw it, I saw it, we all saw it.” Timber jabbed an accusatory finger in Flash’s face. “You can’t deny the facts, Sentry!”

He shoved Timber’s finger away and laughed, but Timber seemed to take the tinge of pink on his cheeks as a declaration of defeat: he did in fact have a cute butt.

A small, if shaky smile rose on Flash's face. "Well, it feels pretty good to get all of that out in the open. You know,” he said leaning toward the two of them, “I'd totally recommend it. Emotional openness. Making friends. Having conversations about things. It’s good stuff.”

“Tcht. Read you loud and clear.” Timber clapped a hand on Sunset’s shoulder. “Our turn, new best friend.”

After Twilight’s Physics and Law classes, Sunset could’ve used a mental break. Instead, she met up with Timber by the yearbook office. If she were in anyone else’s body at the moment, she wouldn’t have thought twice about cutting class to hash things out with Timber and get this all over with, but Sunset wasn’t in the business of giving her girlfriend panic attacks.

Twilight had told her once, cuddled up to her in the aftermath of one, that it wasn’t on her or their friends to cure her anxiety, and as much as Sunset wanted to be her hero, she promised she wouldn’t try to “fix” Twilight. What she could do, though, was to understand what led to it. That in all likelihood included finding out Sunset ditched class and ruined her perfect attendance record.

So she told Timber to meet her at lunch instead, and instead of the privacy she’d expected (since she was one of only two students who had keys), she found Juniper Montage locked in a staring contest with a computer monitor. Juniper replayed the same five seconds of footage over and over again and idly gnawed on her finger. She leaned in, squinting at a particularly lovable pixel.

Sunset waved her hand so as not to appear threatening. “Hey Juniper?”

The threat was received, evidently. Juniper jumped, whirling the computer chair around. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t see you there, and I’m not used to anyone besides Wallflower sneaking up on me. Do friends always do that?”

“Yes,” Timber Spruce reported, and the fact that he was currently Rainbow Dash gave him too much authority. “Friends are excellent startlers. Be very afraid.”

Sunset shoved him aside so that the grown-ups could talk. She wanted to (politely) tell Juniper to vacate the editing bay so they could have the room to themselves, but she thought Wallflower would have a thing or two to say about dismissively shooing people away, so Sunset did her best to be cordial first. “How’s the retrospective coming along?”

“Ha, better than I ever expected!” For a girl who didn’t go to this school, Juniper’s enthusiasm over what was essentially supposed to be a video yearbook would’ve weirded Sunset out. If it was anybody but Juniper. She spun herself back around with a dramatic flair. “I never thought it’d be so rewarding to be behind the camera in the director’s seat, but uh, don’t tell my Uncle Canter I said that.”

Coming up behind Juniper as she clicked around the editing program, a smirk slid into place on Sunset’s face. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Juniper bit her teeth into her untrounceable smile. “There’s so much more emotional depth to this story than I ever would have dreamed! I went in expecting a lighthearted, silly slice-of-life, but oh-ho-ho, there’s so much more to it than that! Battles between good and evil! Emotional heart-to-hearts and stakes so sky high they take place literally floating in the sky! Interviewing students on their perspectives was interesting enough, but I didn’t think I could possibly have any real footage until people started showing me what they’d taken on their phones over the years.”

Juniper grinned in the blue light of the monitor, dragging the cursor back to a certain point in the editing timeline. When she pressed play, it brought Sunset back to the worst day of her life from someone else’s perspective.

The frame shook in the trembling hand of its operator. Students scrambled back inside the safety of the school and shut the double doors to the front of the school, but that only drew the attention of the dark-eyed demon and her crackling, flaming hellfire. She floated far above the courtyard, but her cruel sneer could be seen through the top of the glass.

Presently, Timber Spruce leaned forward over Juniper’s shoulder. “Whoa, what is that?”

Juniper grinned, leaning back in her seat. “The beginning of our story. It all starts with her.”

In the footage, the sounds of panicked students contended with the demonic form descending down on them with bat-like wings.

“I’ve had to jump through so many hoops tonight just to get my hands on this crown, and it really should’ve been mine all along,” the demon Sunset snarled, muted by the glass. The bestial rage on her face collapsed back into a smirk. “But let’s let bygones be bygones. I am your princess now and you will be loyal—” The cameraperson noticed a sickly glow form around the upper interior of the front facade. As soon as the she-demon closed her fist, the brick and concrete above crumpled like paper. “—to me!”

Screaming, the students scattered away from where the entrance the demon made for herself. Flash Sentry, Lyra Heartstrings, Microchips, the Crusaders—the horrified faces rushing past were all people Sunset would later call friends. At the time, her demonic self loomed down on swift wings to the point that she could now be seen in full view even as the camera person staggered back.

Juniper pressed pause on the playback. “And this is just the start. Once we know that Sunset Shimmer’s okay with the demon angle, with a careful selection of video, we can tell the real story of Canterlot High! From nightmarish attacks to redemption to a school united against the forces of evil! Terror in the face of interdimensional danger!”

Sunset’s eyebrows fell like a drawbridge. The air was punched out of her lungs, and she wondered if this was how Twilight felt when her asthma acted up. “Is that… really what it’s been like for the other students?”

Juniper let a few other clips play. A shot of the stage from the Battle of the Bands from the crowd, Midnight Sparkle breaking open the fabric of space-time and obliterating the Wondercolt statue, Gloriosa as Gaia Everfree growing trees and vines from the ground to blot out the camera—Timber winced at that.

Juniper caught on and stopped the footage. “If it’s too much, absolutely let me know. I’ll make the cut. The point is to be true to the students’ real high school experience, not open old wounds. Wallflower thinks it’s healthy. And, well, I’m starting to agree. She doesn’t want to hide from who she became, and if we do this right, maybe it can be cathartic for everyone.”

Sunset did her best to twist her grimace up into a smile. “Yeah… maybe give us a minute to think it over? Alone?”

Juniper stood up, hands up in a say no more position. “Gotcha. I’ll leave you to make any edits you need to! Take your time. I should check on how Wallflower’s doing after her shrink appointment thingie, anyway.”

She left the two of them with the image of Gaia Everfree on screen between them. The door clicked shut. Sunset kept an eye on Timber, who folded his arms over the back of the computer chair. She’d never seen Rainbow Dash this contemplative. Or this able to stay in one place, really. “Been a while since I’ve seen her like that….”

Well, this is as good a place to start as any. Sunset’s arms settled over her chest. “It must’ve been hard to see your sister like that. I reached out to Gloriosa after camp was over, but I guess I never thought to check in on you. I have to imagine the existence of magic and its ability to corrupt the people you care about most was kind of a lot to take in.”

“Nah.” Timber shrugged, pushing off the back of the chair. “Well, okay, was it terrifying? Hundred percent. Did it leave behind mental and emotional scars? Oh you know it! And sure, it kept me and my sister up for a few nights afterwards, buuut—” He made sure to grin, probably noticing the brooding look on Sunset’s face. “—a lot of good came from it, too. You girls saved the camp. Still can’t thank you enough for that, by the way. And, honestly, the heart-eyes I had for Twilight at the time sort of made the whole Magical Pony Girls are Real and a Threat to Everyone thing go down a little easier.” He popped a shrug. “Pretty girls do that.”

Sunset laughed, leaning back against the island where they stowed the camera equipment for the yearbook committee. “I can attest to that.”

Although she didn’t say anything further, because she could attest too much to that. There was no way on this earth or any other that Sunset would have spoiled their well-deserved fun at the time. Still, watching Twilight slow dance with Timber at the crystal cave ball stung more than she expected it to—and she couldn’t even place why until Flash told her he was so happy to be getting over Twilight but... how weird it still felt to see those two together. It took hearing her oldest friend pining after the girl (or, as she found out not much later, the guy) for Sunset to finally recognize a terribly late fact: she had it bad.

If nothing else, it led to her and Flash stuffing their faces with regret together and bonding over their shared devastation. Good times.

Sunset pushed the thought aside. She won the girl in the end anyway. It was the mature thing to move on like adults, wasn’t it? She could be mature. She smirked, thinking it over. “You never did get to ask much about magic, did you?”

Timber shook his head. “At first, it was all Twilight and I could talk about but then, well, we kind of moved onto other topics. Geology, art history, inter-spatial physics and the existentialism of existing in a multiverse. Got to know each other better, you know? I… didn’t really know you well enough yet to demand a guide on Everything You Ever Wanted to Know about Equestrian Magic.”

“Huh. That’d be pretty useful.” She pointed a finger his way. “Mind if I steal that? It kind of seems like the least I could do is give people a pamphlet when I reshape their entire worldview with demons and magic fights.”

They both laughed, and Sunset wanted to pump her fist. It actually started to feel like they might be getting somewhere with this. She clapped her hands. “Alright, shoot. Ask me anything.”

Taking a seat in the swivel chair, Timber used it to turn dramatically as he asked, “Anything?”

Leaning back on the counter, Sunset smirked and gestured towards herself as if to say bring it on.

Timber held his chin, and it made him look like Rainbow Dash trying to figure out how to get out of her math test. Not solve the equations, just a distraction. He brightened in a way the actual Rainbow rarely did when solving for that particular variable. “So the universe you come from, the one with ponies and dragons, that’s parallel to this one, right? So everyone has a double over there?”

“As far as I can tell, yeah. There’s another Twilight, another Flash Sentry, another Celestia—”

His eyes enlarged. “So there’s another me? And another Gloriosa and Camp Everfree?” The idea of more than one Timber Spruce existing terrified and exhausted Sunset already, but she knew it logically had to be true.

Sunset opened her mouth to answer, but a thought struck her before she could. “Oh, uh, well, yeah, there’s probably another you and Gloriosa in Equestria somewhere. I haven’t met them, but then, I’ve also been here for a few years now, so I haven’t really had the chance to run into them around Canterlot. But as for camp… probably not?” She saw his crestfallen expression and felt the urge to build a camp there herself. “It’s not anything the other you did. The Everfree Forest is a dangerous, lawless place in Equestria⁠—and by lawless I mean the laws of nature. It doesn’t follow the same rules as everywhere else. Not exactly a vacation spot where most ponies want to pitch a tent.”

“Whoa. No Camp Everfree?” He let the words pass over his tongue, feeling out the taste, and set his hands on his knees. “That Timber’s gotta be, like, a totally different guy.”

Sunset chuckled. “You’d think so, but the multiverse has a funny way of working out like that. Princess Twilight grew up in Canterlot Castle as Princess Celestia’s pupil, and trust me when I say that’s the lap of luxury, but through it all, she turned out to be just as big of a dork as our Twilight.”

Timber laughed in stunned delight. “Talk about nature vs. nurture! Wow. So, wait, I thought you were Princess Celestia’s student? Were you in the same class or something?”

“That… would have taught us about friendship much earlier, but no.” The idea of becoming the Princess’s pupils at the same time lit a ball of warmth in Sunset’s stomach. Growing up together. Learning about friendship early. Not turning into a bratty megalomaniac who destroyed everything she touched for a crown. Then again, Sunset was never good at sharing, so she probably would have shoved filly Twilight’s face in the sandbox at best. “Princess Celestia takes on remarkable foals as her protege for very specific reasons. Twilight and I were both supposed to stop a war.”

“A war?” He jerked his head back. “In fluffy, sing-songy ponyland? With who?”

“Princess Luna. Well, Nightmare Moon which is basically like Gaia Everfree, but instead of protecting a camp, she was prophesied to bring about everlasting night and rule in tyranny.” Sunset waved a hand. “Solar-lunar war. It was a whole thing. I obviously didn’t end up defeating her or taking my place by Celestia’s side like I thought I was destined for, but Twilight figured out how to bring Luna back instead. Worked out way better than any of us ever dreamed. But that’s Princess Twilight for you. She finds a way...”

She winced internally at the tone of her voice. What? Did she think she could have done any better? It worked out for the best without me. And I’m glad it did! Princess Celestia seems so much happier now that she has her sister back—she has a sense of humour now. Who knew she could have one of those?

To her surprise, Timber took all of that in better than she expected. But he did look a little concerned. “Are you okay? That’s… really impressive, but I feel like stopping a war is a lot of pressure to put on a kid. It’s like the responsibility of maintaining a camp with your sister to the power of one hundred.”

Sunset fought the tensing in her shoulders. “It’s what the Princess needed me to do. So I did what I could to do it.” All the times well-meaning teachers, members of the royal staff, or even guardsponies told her it was too much for her got irritating after a while. She used to be able to shut them up by naturally out-performing her upperclassponies. That was an undeniable fact: Sunset Shimmer was a natural born mage.

It eventually got to the point where defeating Nightmare Moon was an unmitigated certainty in her mind, and she just wanted to skip ahead to the part where she and Princess Celestia got to spend their days ruling together. In hindsight, Sunset loathed the arrogance that led her down that path and only got worse as time went on. She decided to avoid the subject, shrugging. “The point is that I didn’t do it, and now I’m here in the human dimension causing magical disasters for me and my friends to save people from. Life’s funny like that, I guess.”

Timber nodded. “I kind of know how you feel. Not the child of a prophesied war part, but well, having this life path set out for you and realizing that might not be your thing after all.” He took a breath, rubbing the back of his head. “I don’t know. Gloriosa and I have always had Camp Everfree to take care of, like our parents did, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. Over the years Gloriosa always tried to convince me she could do it herself, and I knew that was baloney, so I always helped her out. But now, she’s an adult, the camp’s got financial backers… I’m starting to believe her when she says she’s got this. So where does that leave me?”

Sunset gave the most Twilight response she could think of: “College?”

But neither of them jumped on the idea.

It wasn’t like Sunset hadn’t given any thought to the future. Senior year wouldn’t last forever. She shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t really know what I want to do, either. Nothing really measures up to Destined to Defeat a Great Evil and Rule a Kingdom in a yearbook, but something more lowkey is probably good for me, anyway. You saw the clipshow. Turns out me and power don’t go very well together…”

It was at that point in time that Timber Spruce asked a question that caught Sunset totally off-guard. “Well, what does the other Sunset do?”

Sunset stared at him, working out what he said. “You mean the human Sunset Shimmer?” He nodded. “No clue. I’ve kind of stopped looking for her.”

Timber scoffed and stood up from his spinning seat. “You know there’s another you right here in our very own dimension, and you haven’t been curious to find out what she’s like? She’s the fully human you! If anyone can tell you what more ‘lowkey’ human things you should be getting up to, it’s her!”

Sunset’s eyebrows lifted. He’s… actually not wrong. Sweet Celestia, maybe if I knew what I was meant to do here, I could stop feeling so jealous over Princess Twilight’s coronation. A rejuvenating thrill flew through her. She could actually find out her place in this world! Sunset laughed and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Timber, that’s perfect!”

“What are friends for?” He smirked, far too proud of himself, but this time she allowed it. “And hey, we haven’t exactly switched everyone back yet. I think we’re making some real progress, but looks like we still have some bonding to do if Twilight’s theory’s right. But knowing her? It totally is.” He lent her a smile and extended his hand. “So?”

The winter storm darkened the day outside, but some light broke through the clouds, falling on their hands as Sunset grabbed Timber’s in hers. “You know what? I’m in,” she said. “Let’s find the human Sunset.”

Author's Notes:

END OF PART I