If you will meet me at the Red Barn, as sure as I have life,

I will take you to Canterlot, and there make you my wife.

I then went home and fetched my lamp, my pickaxe and my spade,

I went unto the Red Barn, and there I dug her grave.

The story was what fascinated Twilight the most. The happy stallion, due to be wed. The joyful parents, anticipating a beautiful partnership. The poor filly, killed in cold blood in what was a mere fit of psychotic rage. Why? What in Celestia's name was the motive for the whole ordeal?

She listened to the song just one more time, for time's sake, and then got to work. She headed downstairs into the cellar. There were some important chests here. After having a tough time levitating them back to the ground floor, she dumped them on the ground and opened them up.

The chests were full to the brim of old newspapers; a perfectly preserved window into the past. What was she looking for? Murders were so incredibly rare, but with tens of thousands of weekly tabloids in here, the chances of finding it was slim.

Time period. The song used some reasonably old language, but not too far in the distant past. Twilight picked out all of the chests containing papers before two hundred years ago and put them to one side. Unfortunately this was not a large number, as very few newspaper editions existed before then.

But by extension, the most recent years could go to one side too. This was not an event in living memory; Twilight was sure Granny Smith would have told this story if it happened in her lifetime. She would have told it if it was her grandparents' story too. So the last hundred and fifty years could go. Yet still a large pile remained.

Location. One verse mentions Canterlot. But they obviously never went there as the marriage never took place. The courts of law are in Canterlot too, but just because the trial took place there doesn't mean the murder did. However there could have been a story on it. But Canterlot newspapers came out daily, so their pile was massive. Yet there was the Red Barn. Twilight struggled to make a conclusion until she had a revelation.

Sweet Apple Acres has existed for generations, and Ponyville Town Hall has been used as a court in years gone by. Plus it has a red barn... So Ponyville was where Berry Cordial lived and where the murder took place. So Twilight picked out the manageable pile of Ponyville papers, and began sifting through from the top.

The pile took over two hours to work through, and in that time Spike had returned from wherever he had been. Twilight had no intention of asking, and Spike had no intention of telling. While he went to bed, she finally found the issue she was looking for.

THE CONFESSION AND EXECUTION OF BERRY CORDIAL

flooded the front page, accompanied by a pencil drawing of the courtroom. In the witness stand was the distraught mother, desperately and uncontrollably tearing her hair out. The father stood tall and stoic, giving a glare like daggers to the defence lawyer.

The jury was frantically muttering to one another, and the enormous crowds that had gathered to watch a once in a lifetime spectacle were in a total uproar. The guards and officers were up and shouting at the mob to gain control, and were rushing about the place like scurrying mice.

And stood still and solemn amongst the utter chaos was the accused. Berry Cordial, the murderer. Yet the way his ghostly eyes stared at the floor in front of him said otherwise. He looked so desperately sorry, that an ordinary pony would argue he didn't do it. Twilight certainly agreed, and felt sorry for the stallion.

But that feeling felt strange, too strange in fact. How can you feel sorry for a cold blooded killer, she asked herself over and over. She read on.

Since the tragical affair Thurtell and Weave, no event has occurred connected with the criminal annals of Equestria which has exited to much interest as the trial of Berry Cordial, who was justly convicted of the murder of Willow Marten on Friday last.

Cordial entered a plea of not guilty. The exact cause of death could not be established. It was thought that a sharp instrument, possibly Cordial's short sword, had been plunged into Marten's eye socket, but this wound could also have been caused by her father's spade when he was exhuming the body.

He admitted to being in the barn with Willow but stated he had left after they argued. He claimed that while he was walking away he heard spell being cast and running back to the barn, found Maria dead with his hoofkerchief beside her.

After several meetings with the prison governor, entreaties from his father, and pleas from the family of Willow, he finally confessed.

The confession was read over carefully to the prisoner in our presence, who stated most solemnly that it was true, and that he had nothing to add to or retract from it.

Judge Justice Judge then issued the sentence: “That you be taken back to the prison from whence you came, and that you be taken from thence, on Monday next, to a place of Execution, and that you there be hanged by the Neck until you are Dead; and may Celestia Almighty, of her infinite goodness, have mercy on your soul.”

A plea of 'not guilty' then an instant confession? The story did not add up, neither in the paper nor in the song. Twilight needed to know more. She knew exactly what to do. Out of the drawer came a roll of parchment and a quill. She was going to make a list.

First question. Why did Willow have to die?

Second question. How did this spur Berry Cordial on to kill her?

Third question. Why did he plead guilty when the governor came forward?

She sat pondering, and came to a conclusion her better instincts did not like. If no books will tell me what I want to know, then I must go back and find out for myself. So to the bookshelves it was; Twilight needed a spell to send her back in time, but not an ordinary one. That was far too dangerous, she only needed to observe the events unfolding.

In a handy tome entitled 'All One Needeth To Know About Time' she found a good selection of spells that would get the job done. One would create a separate time stream that you could alter without consequence to your own universe, but the energy needed for that was phenomenal.

The second put you in the viewpoint of anyone from history, yet you would retain your consciousness. You would just not be in control of the host. The third put an ethereal projection of yourself at ant point in time. You could safely view events from your own body, without having to interact with anyone or anything.

Despite the third being a darn sight more complicated that the second, it was easier than the first, and preferable to the two. And so she got to work. She needed a simple selection of oils and herbs to draw a protective ring and anaesthetize herself respectively. Then the magic itself was uncomplicated, just strenuous.

She drew an oval in primrose oil on the floor, and drew six lines like spokes on a wheel to the centre in lavender. She drank more herbs in water, and felt her body's senses release from her. She made her way to the centre of the oval and lay flat on her back, legs splayed outwards. She charged some pure magic in her horn, and gently touched the floor. A ring of yellow light entombed her in the circle, and the lines of lavender detached themselves from the floor, and wrapped Twilight like she was in chains.

Next came the time spell proper. The date. No. Not the date. Five months before. She must know how Willow and Berry met. It would be January. Location. Ponyville. Where? Not the Library, there could be nothing here. The Red Barn? Yes. Nopony can see me anyway. Okay. Here we go.

The pure magic stored in her horn evolved into the spell. Her head was crushed under the strain as the horn pulsated, sending shockwaves down her body. The pulses grew larger and faster until a screaming solid light emitted from the horn. She was ready. She slowly leaned her head backward, and lightly touched the floor with her horn.

Her body instantly felt like it was being wrenched into pieces. She was not in pain, presumably because of the numbing potion, but the feeling was excruciatingly uncomfortable. Piece by piece, she was put back together in the black void she was travelling through faster that the speed of magic and burst into a cold and dark barn. The red barn.

She picked herself up off the floor and went to brush herself off, but nothing had stuck. She galloped to the door and pushed, but it would not move. Her quick theory was correct. No straw could have stuck to her because I cannot interact with anything here. I am a ghost. The great barn doors didn't even rattle when she thumped them hard.

She sat on a bale of hay that was very uncomfortable, as the straw wouldn't budge to accommodate the shape of her flank; she may well have been sat on rough concrete. She then had a fleeting thought minutes later that she cursed herself for not coming up with earlier. She cast a spell that allowed her to pass through walls.

She threw up on the ground after squeezing through the barn doors. Her insides felt they had been turned inside out and pulverised, and she could still taste old wood and paint. Just like the Ponyville she had left, there was a small spattering of snow on the ground, and the sun shone bright in a cloudless sky.

The barn hadn't obviously changed for hundreds of years, no wonder Applejack was keen to see it restored exactly as it was after the parasprites chomped it to the ground. She turned round again and had another look at Ponyville. The town looked so much the same, except it was smaller. Many buildings were missing, such as her library, and Fluttershy's and Rainbow's houses. The town hall was also much... bigger.

This old town hall had an entire wing tacked on the side that was the same shape and size as the present hall. Which was rather amusing. And so to business. Twilight only had a pencil drawing to go off, but it shouldn't be too hard to pick out the important faces if they were right in front of her. Lo and behold, one did appear in front of her.

Cantering quickly towards the barn was a rather distraught looking Willow Marten. She recognised the long flowing hair and large eyes from another drawing in the paper. Twilight panicked. No, this wasn't the day, was it? Have I got my date wrong? But no, she looks too sad. 'If you meet me at the Red Barn...and there make you my wife'. So she's here for another reason...

Willow stopped in front of the doors and turned around to look at the town behind her. A solitary tear fell down her face as she turned full circle and made her way inside the barn. Twilight prepared for another squeeze.

Willow cried and moaned for an hour. Twilight gave herself a kick after she started being bored with the whole ordeal. It's much more difficult to sit and watch somepony in pain than to go and talk to them. Suddenly the great door creaked open. Willow and Twilight snapped their heads round to see a head peek around the door. She was a cream coloured pony with a small face plastered in freckles, wearing a rather crude pear of spectacles. Her dark straight hair covered part of her face, and she looked out of place for two hundred years in the past.

“Verity, you should not be near me. If my father sees me in your company, especially after recent events...”. She broke into an unstoppable torrent of tears. “Oh, how can it possibly get any worse than this, Verity?” she sobbed.

“Ah don't know friend... but what if your father was wrong..?” Verity said as she came closer and sat beside Willow.

“It means nothing whether my father was wrong or not, he will have his way, and I cannot see how I can have my life back the way it was... I wish I never met Berry at all...”

Twilight was just as shocked as Verity. “Now come on, Willow... you really don't mean that.” she said matter-of-factly. “It was fate you two were meant ter be together... It was chance that... ye'know...”

“YOU KNOW, WHAT?” screamed Willow. “YOU THINK I WANT TO FORGET?”. She exhaled and gathered herself up again. “I love my father too much to let him down like this. I shall remember I was foolish enough to do so, and I sincerely hope that Berry has the decency to understand that. If he wants to start again proper, I am willing to forgive him, and I think my father will too. We after all can have more children, but it was never about that... I hurt my father's pride. And their death has put that to rights. We can start over.”

“Willow, I love you like you were my own sister. But you seriously don't believe that your children... died... naturally?”

“What the hay are you suggesting.”. Twilight shivered from the ice cold sincerity, things could only get worse from here.

“You know perfectly well what I'm suggesting.”

“Get. Out.”. No more was said. Verity stood up and brushed the tears of her friend's cheek and left. Willow put her head in her hooves and wept until the bell tolled the hour. She brushed herself down, and made her way outside.

Twilight was shaking. Things were getting complicated indeed. Willow had children five months before she was killed?